Phisicke against fortune. De remediis utriusque fortunae

Phisicke against fortune, aswell prosperous, as aduerse conteyned in two bookes. Whereby men are instructed, with lyke indifferencie to remedie theyr affections, aswell in tyme of the bryght shynyng sunne of prosperitie, as also of the foule lowryng stormes of aduersitie. Expedient for all men, but most necessary for such as be subiect to any notable insult of eyther extremitie. Written in Latine by Frauncis Petrarch, a most famous poet, and oratour. And now first Englished by Thomas Twyne.
De remediis utriusque fortunae. English
Petrarca, Francesco, 1304-1374.
1579
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14998
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Phisicke against fortune, aswell prosperous, as aduerse conteyned in two bookes. Whereby men are instructed, with lyke indifferencie to remedie theyr affections, aswell in tyme of the bryght shynyng sunne of prosperitie, as also of the foule lowryng stormes of aduersitie. Expedient for all men, but most necessary for such as be subiect to any notable insult of eyther extremitie. Written in Latine by Frauncis Petrarch, a most famous poet, and oratour. And now first Englished by Thomas Twyne.
De remediis utriusque fortunae. English
Petrarca, Francesco, 1304-1374.
Twyne, Thomas, 1543-1613.
[8], 342, [4] leaves
Printed by [Thomas Dawson for] Richard watkyns,
At London :
An. Dom. 1579.
A translation of: De remediis utriusque fortunae.
Actual printer's name from STC.
With three final contents leaves; the last leaf is blank.
Reproduction of the original in the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery.
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PHISICKE againſt Fortune, aſwell proſperous, as aduerſe, conteyned in two Bookes.
Whereby men are inſtructed, with lyke in differencie to remedie theyr affections, aſwell in tyme of the bryght ſhynyng ſunne of proſperitie, as alſo of the foule lowryng ſtormes of aduerſitie. Expedient for all men, but moſt neceſſary for ſuch as be ſubiect to any not able inſult of eyther extremitie. Written in Latine by Frauncis Petrarch, a moſt famous Poet, and Oratour.
And now firſt Engliſhed by Thomas Twyne.
At London, printed by Richard watkyns. An. Dom. 1579.
To the right woorſhypful Maiſter Richard Bertie Eſquier. &c. quietneſſe of Conſcience, health of Body, continuance of Lyfe, with encreaſe of worldly VVoorſhyp.
PEtrarches remedies agaynſt both Fortunes in Latine, Right woorſhipful, were, as it appeareth, dedicated vnto Azo, an honourable Gentleman of Italy. Azo had good cauſe to enterteyne them thankefully, for that being ſtrangely wounded with aduerſitie, and caſt downe from the dignitie of a Lorde, to the ſtate of a wretched forlorne man, he myght receaue thereby no ſmall comfort in his ſorowes. The ſame woorke now called Phyſicke agaynſt Fortune in Engliſhe, and intituled vnto your Woorſhypful name, who are no meane perſonage of this our Realme of Englande, but in this reſpect farre exceeding the degree of Azo, in that you haue gained ſurpaſſing prefermentes at the handes of Fortune, is ſemblably preſented vnto your fauourable acceptation. Not that it is doubted, the infirmitie of your minde any way to be ſuch, that you ſtand in neede of theſe, or the lyke Medicines, to mittigate the ſugered Bankettes, or ſower ſauces of eyther Fortune, that is to ſay, proſperitie or aduerſitie: Although, whoſo lyſt to examine your right worſbypfull eſtate, ſhall well perceyue thereby, that yf your minde coulde be caried away by any of theſe two affections, the ſame by lykelyhood ſhould be it which is quite contrarie to that which troubled Azo: ſince it hath pleaſed Fortune, or GOD rather, to bleſſe you with ſuche valure of Minde, Vertue, Godlyneſse, Wyſedome, Grauitie, and Learnyng generally in all Faculties, Good letters, and Tongues, as fewe or none the lyke farre and wyde to be founde in this our age. Adde herevnto moreouer the commendable cumlineſſe of your perſon, with integritie of health, and good conſtitution of bodie: And laſtly, the acceſse of a noble Ducheſse to your Wyfe, of an honourable Counteſse to your Daughter, of a Lorde apparant to your Sonne and Heyre, beſides large
Reuenues and fayre Houſes, and which maketh not ſmally to the accomplyſhment of worldly felicitie, the fauour of a moſt vertuous and louing QVEENE, and a moſt flouriſhyng Commonwealth to lyue in. Theſe, albeit I confeſſe they be very great, yet are they not ſuche, but that your wiſedome of it ſelfe is able to beare them with ſufficient moderation, and as in deede they be, ſo to eſteeme of them. But rather in reſpect of theſe your rare giftes, and the loue that you beare vnto learnyng, and the fauourers thereof, I haue been induced to exhibite the medicines of Petrarch againſt Fortune, vnto you, that as many of our Countreimen as ſhall haue occaſion hereafter to reade or vſe them, may the more freendly accept them for your Woorſhypfull name ſake. In conſyderation whereof, and lykewyſe yf it ſhall pleaſe you not diſcontentedly to accept them at my handes, I ſhall not onely thynke my trauell well requited, but alſo in regarde of other benefites receyued, acknowledge my ſelfe muche bounden vnto you, and to remaine your Woorſhips euermore readie at commaundemente:
Thomas Twyne.
❧ The Epiſtolare Preface of Francis Petrarch, a moſt famous Poet and Oratour, written vnto Azo, concerning the Phiſicke and remedies of both Fortunes, aſwell aduerſe, as proſperous.
WHEN I thinke vpon the affayres, and fortunes of men, their vncertaine and ſudden chaunces and changes, truely I finde nothyng almoſt more fraile, nothing more vnquiet, then the lyfe of man. For I perceiue howe nature hath prouided well for all other liuing creatures, by a woonderful kind of remedie, to wit, a certaine ignorance of them ſelues: but in vs only ſhe hath conuerted our memorie, vnderſtanding, prouidence, and moreouer the diuine giftes of our minde, vnto our owne toyle and deſtruction. For being alwayes ſubiect not onely vnto vayne and ſuperfluous, but alſo hurtfull and peſtiferous cares, we are both greeued with the preſent time, and alſo vexed with the time paſt, and that is to come: ſo that we ſeeme to feare nothyng ſo muche, as not to ſeeme at all tymes to be in miſerie. Our ſtudie is ſo great, whereby we heape together cauſes of miſeries, and nouryſhmentes of ſorowes, whereby we make our lyfe, whiche yf it were wel gouerned, were the moſt happie & pleaſaunt thyng that we poſſeſſe, a wretched and wofull toyle, whoſe entraunce is blindneſſe, going forwarde toyle, ende ſorowe, and the whole courſe errour: Whiche he ſhall fynde to be ſo, whoſoeuer with diligent eye conſydereth the whole race of his owne lyfe. What day doo we paſſe ouer in reſt and quietneſſe? or rather doo we not finde more painefull and troubleſome then other? What mornyng haue we euer paſſed ſo merie and pleaſaunt, that hath not been ſurpriſed with ſorowe and heauineſſe before night? Of whiche euyll, although a great cauſe doo reſt in the thinges them ſelues, neuertheleſſe vnleſſe our ſelfeloue deceyue vs, a greater cauſe, or to confeſſe the trueth, the whole cauſe conſiſteth
in our ſelues: and to let paſſe all other thinges whereby we are troubled on euery ſyde, what war, and how perpetuall is it which we maintayne agaynſt Fortune, wherein Vertue only can make vs conquerours? But willingly, & wittingly we reuolt from her. We only being weaklinges & vnarmed, encounter a moſt fierce foe in vnequall fight: whom ſhe againe, as lightly as thinges of nought, toſſeth vs vp, and throweth vs downe, & turneth vs round about, and plaieth with vs, ſo that it were better for vs to be quite ouercome, then continually to be had in ſkorne. And what is the cauſe hereof, but only our owne lightnes & daintines: for we ſeeme to be good for nothing els, but to be toſſed hither & thither like a Tenniſe bal, being creatures of very ſhort life, of infinite carefulneſſe, & yet ignorant vnto what ſhoare to fal with our ſhyp, or vnto what reſolution to apply our mindes, whoſe determination is alwayes to hang in doubt: and beſides the preſent euil, alwayes to haue ſomewhat to greeue vs behind our backe, & before our eyes to make vs afeard. Which thing hapneth vnto no creature beſides man, for vnto all other it is moſt perfect ſecuritie to haue eſcaped that which is preſent. But we, in reſpect of our wit, and the vnderſtanding of our minde, are in continual wraſtling & ſtrife with an enemie, as it were a three headed Cerberus. So that it had ben almoſt better for vs to haue wanted reaſon, ſince we turne the force of our heauenly nature againſt our ſelues: for it were now an hard matter to reſiſt & ſubdue this euil, being ſo deepely rooted through age & cuſtome. Notwithſtanding, we muſt endeuour to doo what we may, vnto which purpoſe beſides the induſtrie of a couragious minde, to whom nothing is hard, nothing inexpugnable, it were moſt conuenient to adioyne the ſundrie ſpeeches of wyſe men, although this kinde be now alſo very rare, and eſpecially continual and diligent reading of the woorkes and monumentes of good auctours, ſo that there want not in vs a willing minde to conſent vnto their holſome inſtructions, which I may boldly tearme in earth to be the only & liuely fountaine of good and fruitfull aduice. Wherfore, ſince we know that meane writers ſomtime are commended for their bare affection, or for that they haue ſeemed to haue broken the Ice vnto thoſe that haue followed them: howe greatly are we beholden vnto the great and famous writers, who
being conuerſant many hundred yeeres before vs here vpon the earth, in their diuine wittes, and moſt godly ordinances, doo yet lyue, dwel, and talke with vs? And among the perpetuall ſurges of our mindes, like ſo many bright ſhining Starres fixed in the firmament of Trueth, like ſo many ſweete and pleaſant gales of winde, like ſo many induſtrious and expert ſaylers, do both point vs to the hauen, and direct the flittering ſayles of our barkes thither, and guyde the ſterne of our flitting minde, vntyll ſuch tyme as our conſultations, which haue ben toſt and driuen to and fro by tempeſtes, doo ſtay their courſe, and qualifie their motions. And this is the true Philoſophie, not which is lifted vp with deceiptfull winges, and vainely caſteth about, moſt proudly boaſting it ſelfe in vnprofitable diſputations, but that by aſſured and modeſt degrees leadeth the redieſt way vnto ſafetie. To exhort thee vnto this ſtudie perhaps it were freendly done, but truely it is not neceſſarie: For Fortune hath made thee greedie to reade much, and to knowe many thynges, who, as they ſay, beareth a great ſtroke in the worlde, expoſing thee to be toſſed in the troubleſome and deepe ſea of cares and troubles. Howbeit, as ſhe hath taken from thee the leaſure to reade, ſo hath ſhe not the deſire to knowe, but that beyng delighted alwayes in the frendſhyppe and familiaritie of learned men, and vpon the moſt buſieſt dayes, as often as opportunitie ſhall ſerue to ſteale idle houres, thou myghteſt haue a wyll to be euery day better inſtructed, and learned in moſt excellent matters: wherein I am a witneſſe that thou haſt often vſed thy memorie, wherein thou art inferiour to none, in ſteede of bookes. Wherevnto yf thou were prone enough in thyne youth, thou art nowe to be deemed ſo muche the more proner: as the wayfaryng man that ſettech foorth late, may ſeeme to be freſher and redier to trauayle, then he that ſet foorth in the mornyng, foraſmuche as this is a common complaint among them, that the way waxeth longer, and the day decreaſeth: the whiche thing hapneth vnto vs in this courſe of our lyfe, whileſt we trauayle towardes the euenyng, and ſee that we haue yet a long way to walke. I neede not therefore to exhorte thee to doo that, whiche thou haſt alwayes
doone moſt greedily of thine owne accorde: It ſhall ſuffice me to haue admoniſhed thee, that thou bende thy minde in ſuch ſort, that no care of humane and worldly affayres remoue thee, which in the very finiſhing of great and moſt excellent workes, haue turned many away, after their woorthie and commendable traueiles begun. Adding this moreouer, that ſeeing it is impoſſible for thee to reade, or here, or remember all thinges at once, thou repoſe thy ſelfe vpon the moſt profitable, and, for that breuitie is freend to Memorie, ye moſt briefeſt of them. Not that I perſwade thee to neglect the more buſie and great concluſions and reſolutions of wiſedome, whereby thou mayſt defende thy ſelfe in the ordinarie conflict with Fortune, but that thou mighteſt be lightly furniſhed in the meane while with theſe ſhort and preciſe ſentences, as it were with certaine light and continual armour, againſt al aſſaultes and ſudden inuaſions hapning on any ſide whatſoeuer. For we wage double war with Fortune, and in both there is in a manner equal danger: wherof there is but one part cōmonly knowē by yt name, to wit, yt which is called Aduerſitie. The Philoſophers although they knew both, yet they iudged this to be the harder. And therfore ye ſaying of Ariſtotle in his boke of Ethikes is receiued as true, wherein he thus defineth, concerning this matter: ſaying, That it is an harder matter to endure aduerſitie, then to abſtaine from pleaſures. Whom Seneca following, and writing to Lucillus: It is a greater matter,
ſayth he, to paſse ouer difficult matters, then to moderate the proſperous. What ſhall I ſay? May I preſume to gaggle among ſuch woorthie men? It is an hard matter, & breedeth no ſmal ſuſpition of raſhnes, for a new man to medle wi
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h olde matters. And therfore on the one ſide I am moued by auctoritie, on the other by antiquitie. But there commeth vnto my mind, the auctoritie of an other great & auncient man: For it cannot be otherwiſe, but that euery man conceiue an opinion of a thing, according as it appeareth vnto him. They are the woordes of Marcus Brutus, writing vnto Atticus, which I ſuppoſe to be ſo true, that nothyng can be more true. For what can I iudge of any thyng, otherwyſe then I thynke? vnleſſe perhappes I be conſtrayned to iudge by other mennes iudgementes, whiche who ſo dooeth, he iudgeth not of hym ſelfe, but reporteth the iudgementes of other.
I therefore thus with reuerence paſſing ouer the iudgementes of ſuche notable men, beyng in ſuche manner affectioned, if I woulde ſay any thyng concernyng myne owne iudgement, I knowe wel that ſome haue diuerſly diſputed otherwyſe of the vertues, and that the preheminence is not alwayes geuen to the moſt difficult, neyther that it hapned by chaunce that modeſtie, or whether thou had rather cal it temperance, poſſeſſed the laſt place. But as touchyng our purpoſe whereof we entreate, I ſuppoſe it an harder matter to gouerne proſperitie, then aduerſitie: and I playnely profeſſe, that in mine opinion, and alſo in mine experience, flatteryng fortune is more to be feared, and farre more perilous, then threatnyng fortune: vnto whiche opinion, it is not the fame of writers, nor the ſubtiltie of woords, nor the falſe ſillogiſmes of ſophiſters, but true experience it ſelfe, and the dayly examples of this lyfe, and the ſcarcitie, whiche is a great argument of the difficultie, whiche enforceth me. For why? I haue ſeene many that haue indifferently ſuſteyned loſſes, pouertie, exile, impriſonment, punyſhment, death, and great ſickeneſſes that are more greeuous then death: but that could wel beare ryches, honoures, and power, I neuer yet ſawe any. For oftentymes, euen in my ſight, thoſe that haue ſtoode inuincible agaynſt al violence of aduerſe fortune, proſperous fortune hath ouerthrowen with ſmal force, and her flatteries haue ouercome that valiencie of mans minde, whiche her threatnynges could not ſubdue. It commeth to paſſe, I wot not how, that ſo ſoone as fortune waxeth more milde, the ſoftned mindes of men beginne lykewyſe to growe proud, and by enioying proſperitie, to conceyue forgetfulneſſe of their owne condition. Neyther is it ſpoken without cauſe, and vſed nowe among our countrey men as a prouerbe, that it is an harde matter to beare proſperitie. Neyther was it ſpoken by Horace vnaduiſedly, Learne to beare wel good fortune: For he iudged it to be an hard matter, and not knowen without diligent ſtudie. But Seneca very breefely diſcourſed of that part of fortune, which ſeemed vnto hym to be moſt difficult, and is doubtleſſe at the firſt ſight the more rough and hard of the twayne. Whiche booke is commonly abrode in mens handes, whereunto it is not my meaning
to adde or detract any thyng at al, both for that the woorke, being wrytten by ſo great a wit, diſdayneth to come vnder our cenſure, & alſo being buſied about mine owne affayres, am not purpoſed to correcte or carpe other mens doinges. But foraſmuche as Vertue and Trueth are publique thinges, there is no reaſon that the ſtudie of antiquitie ſhoulde be any hindrance to the induſtrie of poſteritie, for whoſe cauſe we knowe that it was vndertaken, to the ende we ſhould thereby be ſtyrred vp and holpen. And therfore I purpoſe to entreate with thee ſomewhat concernyng the ſame matter, that that whiche he dyd then for his freende Gallio, I may nowe do in lyke ſort for my freende Azo, whiche I am determined ſo farre foorth to accompliſhe, as ſhal lye in this my buſied and werie wyt to do: and ouer and beſides alſo, to touche the other part, whiche eyther of forgetfulneſſe or purpoſe was by hym pretermitted. I haue moreouer of ſet purpoſe mingled a fewe matters, not touchyng the defectes of any fortune, but the excellencie of vertues or vices: whiche although they be beſides the purpoſe, yet are not vnlyke in effect, & ſeeme to be ſuche as are able to make mens mindes glad or ſorowfull. Wherein how I haue behaued my ſelfe, thou ſhalt be iudge, being mindeful of my buſineſſe and the ſhortneſſe of the tyme, who with great admiration ſaweſt the whole woorke begunne and ended in a very fewe dayes, I only am iudge of the credite. I haue endeuoured not to ſet downe whatſoeuer ſeemed beſt lykyng to my ſelfe, but that myght be moſt profitable vnto thee and others, whoſoeuer els haply hath touched the ſame. To be ſhort, the ende whiche I alwayes propoſed to my ſelfe in this kynde of ſtudie, was not ſo muche the commendation of the wryter, as the commoditie of the reader, yf ſo be there may be any hoped for or receiued by me, hauing a ſpeciall reſpect hereunto, that it ſhould not be needeful for thee to toſſe and turne ouer thy whole armorie at euery alarme and doubt of the enemie: but rather to the entent thou myghteſt haue in a redineſſe agaynſt euer miſcheefe, and hurtful good, & eyther fortune, a ſhort medicine, but freendly confected for a double diſeaſe: ſo that thou mayeſt alwayes haue at hande, as they ſay, in al places, & at al times, as it were, an effectual remedie conteyned in a litle boxe. For as I haue ſaid, both Fortunes
faces are to be feared, but notwithſtandyng both muſt be endured, whereof the one hath neede of a bridle, the other of comfort: in the one, the pride of the minde of men is to be repreſſed: in the other, their werineſſe and greefe to be ſuccoured and relieued. Wherefore, when I thought vpon this varietie, and purpoſed with my ſelfe to wryte ſomewhat concernyng this argument, not only thou cameſt into my minde woorthie of that gyft, which both of vs may vſe indifferently, as ſayeth Cicero, but alonely moouedſt me to wryte it, not onely in woordes, as beyng priuie of al mine enterpriſes whatſoeuer, but alſo in deedes, being of ſufficient
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bilitie to perfourme them both. For we knowe how that Fortune hath tormented many vpon the racke, & many ſhe hath lulled aſleepe in delites, and many ſhe hath ſwinged vp & downe in her wheele: neyther want we examples of ſuch as clymbe, nor of ſome that fal, neyther am I ignorant that ſome haue been throwen downe from the top of high dignitie. Howe many Emperours of Rome, how many forren Princes, being plucked out of their regal thrones, eyther by their owne handes, or the handes of their enimies, haue been depriued both of their lyues & Empires at one inſtant? Shal we borowe al our examples of antiquitie, ſince we our ſelues haue ſeene of late dayes ſome kynges taken priſoners, and ſome ſlaine in battayl, and ſome beheaded at home, and (which is moſt extreame of al) ſome hanged by the necke, & ſome moſt ſhamefully mangled in peeces? Thou art one vnto whom Nature hath geuen a princely hart, but Fortune hath not geuen a kyngdome, nor yet taken it away: yet whom in other reſpectes ſhe hath more diuerſly toſſed and turmoyled, I ſuppoſe there is none to be found in our age. For being ſometyme in excellent good health, and enioying very great ſtrength of body, it is ſtrange to recount howe not many yeeres ſince, to the great wonder of al that know thee, being thrice geuen ouer by the Phiſitions, thrice thou repoſedſt thy life & ſafetie in the onely helpe of the heauenly Phiſition, & at the length waſt by hym reſtored to thy former health, but in ſuch wiſe, that thou haſt vtterly loſt thine accuſtomed ſtrength of body, with no leſſe wonder of thy excellent dexteritie, & rare grauitie: yt thou who before time haddeſt moſt ſtrōg & valiant legges, & feete almoſt as hard as braſſe.
art nowe growen ſo weake, that thou muſt be lyfted vp to thy horſe backe by thy ſeruantes, or leanyng vpon their ſhoulders, art ſcarcely able to tread vpon the ground. Thy countrey almoſt at one tyme ſawe thee both a lord, and a banyſhed man: but ſo notwithſtandyng, that thou ſeemedſt to be nothyng at all blemiſhed by thy baniſhment. There was neuer any almoſt of our countreymen, that ſtoode in lyke fauour of noble men and princes, and neuer any that ſuſteyned lyke iniurie. And whereas not long before they ſtriued in ſhewyng thee tokens of curteſie, afterward the ſame men conſented in nothyng ſo muche, as in conſpyring and laying their heades together howe to procure thy deſtruction. Of whom ſome ſought meanes to take away thy lyfe, who before tyme had honoured thee the ſpace of many yeeres with golde and precious ſtones, and many other large giftes, duryng the tyme of thy proſperous and fauourable fortune, and, whiche is moſt greeuous of al, to ſpoyle thee of thy freendes and clientes, and thy whole familie, by afflictyng them with ſundry greeuous tormentes, and ſtrange kyndes of death. But ſuch as were of the more curteous ſort, inuaded thy great patrimony, thy landes, thy people, thy houſes, thy townes: inſomuch as they that ſawe thee not long before, and perceyued how ſuddeinely thou waſt fallen from great wealth into extreame pouertie, wondred as it had been at ſome ſtrange miracle of fortune. Some of thy freendes, as I haue ſaid, are periſhed, & in thoſe that remaine, their faith is decaied, & the goodwil of men, as yt cōmon maner is, flyeth away with proſperitie: ſo that thou art brought into a doubt which to bewaile firſt, either the death of thy freends that are peryſhed, or the loſſe of their aſſuredneſſe that are liuing. Now in the middeſt of theſe troubles there happened vnto thee a moſt deſperate and dangerous ſickeneſſe, wherein thou waſt brought ſo neare vnto death, that when euery man ſuppoſed thou couldeſt not eſcape, it was generally reported that thou waſt dead. Which ſickeneſſe, which pouertie, which heape of troubles, in that thou waſt driuen out of thine owne countrey, and farre from thine owne houſe in a ſtrange lande, and warre rounde about thee, and thou on euerye ſyde oppreſſed, gaue occaſyon that in the meane whyle thou couldeſt haue no entercourſe,
eyther of letters, or conference with thoſe thy frendes, whiche eyther thy vertue had purchaſed, or fortune had reſerued. There was no extremitie wantyng, ſauing impriſonment, and death: although we cannot ſay neyther, that thou waſt quite free from impriſonment, whileſt thy moſt faythful wyfe, and al thy ſonnes, beyng part of thy bowelles, and thy daughters alſo were taken priſoners by thine enimies, and there was no comfort remayning vnto thee of ſo many chyldren: N
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yther yet from death, whilſt thou thy ſelfe ſtriuedſt euery day with death, and at that tyme alſo one of thy ſonnes gaue vp his tender and giltleſſe ghoſt in priſon. To be ſhorte, we haue ſeene that fulfilled in thee, whiche we reade of two moſt excellent perſonagies, Caius Marius, and the great Pompeius, to wit, that fortune hath ſeuerally expreſſed in thee, and thy chyldren, what good and euyl ſhe is able to do, and neuer mingle any proſperttie with aduerſitie: whoſe flatteries in tymes paſt, although theu haſt not caſted ſo plentifully as many happie men haue done, notwithſtandyng thou haſt abidden her threates and force of late dayes, with ſo couragious and inuincible a mynde, that in this reſpect thou haſt geuen occaſion vnto many, who before hated thy name, to loue thee, and woonder at thee. For vertue hath this propertie, that it ſtirreth vp good men to loue it, and aſtunniſheth the euyl. Whiche propertie as it is common to euery vertue, ſo is it peculier eſpecially to fortitude, whoſe tranquilitie and vprightneſſe is the more acceptable, and lyght more conſpicable among the troubleſome turmoyles of fortune, and darkeneſſe of terrible thinges. For vnto me thou haſt not onely heaped vp much new good wyl, vpon the auntient loue whiche I bare towardes thee, whiche I thought to haue been impoſſible, but haſt alſo conuerted my quill, whiche made haſt towardes another matter, to wryte this woorke in tyme not purpoſed, both that thou mighteſt beholde the countenance of thy mynde in my wrytinges, as it were in a lookyng glaſſe: and alſo if herein there were any thyng that ſeemed vnto thee nothyng fine, but rather rude and barbarous, and whiche in deede dyd not lyke thee, that in this manner thou order and take it: that yf it ſhal chaunce that fortune hereafter varrie with thee in any ſtrange manner or deuice,
whereof ſhe hath great plentie, yea innumerable in ſtore, that thou be not troubled at al with any hope. But being prouided for al chaunces, and redye for what ſoeuer may happen, thou mayeſt deſpyſe both the ſweete, and the ſower, crying out moſt confidently theſe verſes of Virgil agaynſt them, O virgin, there is no newe or ſuddeyne ſhewe of troubles can aryſe vnto me, I haue forethought vpon al matters, and forecaſt them alredie in my mynde. Neyther am I ignorant, that as in the bodyes of men, ſo alſo in their mindes that are affected with ſundry paſſions, the medicines of woordes wyl ſeeme vnto many to be without effect. Notwithſtandyng I knowe wel enough, that as the diſeaſes of the minde are inuiſible, ſo are there remedies inuiſible alſo: For they that are ſeduced by falſe opinions, muſt be remedied by true perſwaſions, that they that fel by hearyng, may alſo ryſe by hearyng. Moreouer, who ſo wyllingly offereth vnto his freende, beyng in neede, that whiche he hath to releeue hym withal, howe ſmal ſoeuer it be, he hath fulfilled the duetie of perfect freendſhyp. For freendſhyp weigheth the mynde, and not the thing, whiche though it be but ſmal, yet may it be an argument of great good wyl. For my part, as I wyſhe vnto thee al honour, ſo haue I nothyng at this preſent more conuenient to geue thee: whiche yf thou thinke to be of any force, the commoditie of it, whiche maketh euery thyng to be regarded, ſhal ſufficiently commend it. But if thou perceyue it to be of no force, notwithſtandyng thy good wyl towardes me ſhal excuſe it. And thou ſhalt come to reade it, as though thoſe foure moſt famous and cooſinne paſſions of the mynde, to wyt, hope, or deſire and ioy, feare and ſorowe, whiche the two ſiſters proſperitie and aduerſitie brought foorth at equal byrthes, lay on eyther ſide moſt fiercely aſſaultyng the minde of man: howebeit reaſon, whiche gouerneth the cheefe caſtle, maketh anſwere vnto them al, and beyng furniſhed with her ſhielde and head peece, by her meanes and proper force, but ſpecially being aſſiſted with moſt myghtie power from heauen, defendeth of the weapons of the throngyng enimies. But I conceyue ſuche hope of thy wyſedome, that thou canſt ſoone iudge whiche part wyl haue the victorie. I wyl nowe holde thee
no longer, but to the ende thou mighteſt vnderſtand my purpoſe, it was needeful for me to wryte this epiſtle, as it were an argument to the booke: whiche yf thou cauſe to be ſet before the woorke, conſyder thou of theſe both, that an ouerlong preface trouble not a ſhort booke, none otherwyſe then an ouer great head burdeneth a lytle body: For there is nothing wel fauoured, without due meaſure and proportion of the partes.
¶ Of floorishing yeeres. The firſt Dialogue.
IOY. REASON.
MY yeeres are flooriſhyng, I ſhall yet lyue a long tyme.
Reaſon.
Loe, this is the firſt vaine hope of mortall men, whiche hath alredy, and wyll hereafter, deceiue many thouſandes.
Ioy.
My yeeres are flooriſhing.
Reaſon.
A vayne ioy, and a ſhort: & whyle we be ſpeakyng, this flowre withereth.
Ioy.
My age is ſounde.
Reaſon.
Who wyl cal that ſound, whiche wanteth much, and when that whiche remayneth, is vncertayne?
Ioy.
But there is a certaine prefixed terme, and lawe of liuing.
Reaſon.
Who made that lawe? or what is the prefixed time of lyfe? Surely it is a very vnequl law, that is not indifferent vnto al men: yea rather, it is ſo variable, that there is nothing more vncertayne in the lyfe of man, than the terme of mans lyfe.
Ioy.
Howbeit, there is ſome terme and meaſure of life, which the wiſe men haue defined.
Reaſon.
To appoynt the terme of lyfe, it is not in his power that receiueth it, but in his that geueth it, which is GOD. And I vnderſtande, howe that hereby you meane the terme of threeſcore & ten yeres, or if nature be ſomwhat ſtronger, foureſcore yeeres, and there you appoynt the ende: vnto whiche who ſo doth attayne, theyr lyfe is but payne and trauayle: vnleſſe he aduaunce your hope a litle further, who ſayth, The dayes of a mans lyfe are many tymes an hundred yeeres, vnto which age how few do attayne, we ſee: but admit that it happened vnto al, which happeneth but to fewe, notwithſtandyng I pray you howe muche is it:
Ioy.
Very much truely: For the lyfe of young men is more aſſured and farther of from olde age, and ſo from death.
Reaſon.
Thou art deceiued: for although there be nothing ſafe to a man, notwithſtandyng that is the moſt daungerous part of his lyfe, whiche to muche careleſneſſe maketh vnaduiſed. There is nothyng neerer to other, then death is to lyfe: when they ſeeme to be fartheſt a ſunder, then are they neereſt togeather, alwayes the one paſſeth away, and the other draweth nygh: whyther
ſoeuer ye flee away, death is at hande, and hangeth ouer your heades.
Ioy and Hope.
Wel, at the leaſtwyſe, youth is now preſent, and olde age is abſent.
Reaſon.
Nothyng is more flytting then youth, nothyng more deceyuable then olde age. Youth ſtayeth not, but in delightyng ſhe ſlyppeth away, olde age immediatly folowyng after ſoftly in darkeneſſe and ſilence, ſtriketh men at vnwares: and when ſhe is thought to be farre of, then ſtandeth ſhe at the doore.
Ioy.
My age is in ryſing.
Reaſon.
Thou truſteſt to a moſt deceitfull thing. This ryſing, is a goyng downe, this ſhort lyfe, this vnſtable tyme, ſtealeth away, yea without makyng any noyſe with the feete, euen whyle we ſleepe, and make merie. And, O that this ſwiftneſſe of tyme, and ſhortneſſe of lyfe were as well knowen in the beginning, as it is in the ende? whiche to thoſe that enter ſeemeth infinite, and nothyng when they goe out, and are ſcarce ſo many minutes as they appeared to be hundredes of yeeres. So then, at length deceypt is knowen when it can not be auoyded: whereby it commeth, that many tymes counſell is geuen in vayne vnto thoſe yeeres, they are both vnbeleeuyng, and vnſkylfull, diſdainefull of anothers counſell, and wantyng of their owne. And therefore, there is nothyng that diſcouereth the errours of youth, although they be innumerable and greeuous, and yet notwithſtandyng hyd and vnknowen to thoſe that committed them, better then olde age doth, and layeth them foorth before their eyes, who ſometyme diſſembled them, and winked at them. Neither doo ye ſooner perceyue what ye ought to be, then ye be made that whiche ye woulde be, and then ye can poſſibly be none other then ye be. But yf there were any that coulde vnderſtande theſe thynges in tyme, or by hym ſelfe, or beleeue when he is taught, ſurely hym woulde I accompt a woorthy and happie youth among many thouſandes, he ſhoulde not paſſe his lyfe through ſo many difficulties, whoſe onely courſe lyeth ſafe and ſtraight through vertue.
Ioy.
Myne age is nothyng ſpent.
Reaſon.
Howe is that vnſpent, whiche ſince the tyme it firſt beganne is euery day waſted, and whyle it is geuen, is alſo taken away by very ſmall portions. For Heauen turneth about with perpetuall motion, minutes conſume houres, and houres the day. That day thruſteth foorth another,
and that, the next day folowyng, and there is neuer any ceaſſyng. So doo monethes paſſe away, ſo yeeres, and ſo dooth an whole age make haſt, and runne, and as Cicero ſayeth, fleeth away. And as Virgil ſayth, It neuer waggeth the ſwifte winges. So lykewyſe, they that fare by Sea, they are caried away in the ſhyppe, and feele not howe, and many tymes are at their viage ende before they be ware.
Ioy, and Hope.
An age that beginneth, is far from the ende.
Reaſon.
Within the ſpace of a ſhort lyfe, nothyng is farre of.
Ioy and Hope.
But there is no part farther from the ende, then is the beginnyng.
Reaſon.
None in deede, but this ſhoulde be truely ſayde, yf all men lyued lyke ſpace of time. Howbeit, euen the very fyrſt age falleth ſundrie wayes into death: whereby it chaunceth many tymes, that he that ſeemed fartheſt of, is neareſt his ende.
Ioy and Hope.
Truely, I am of a moſt flooriſhing age.
Reaſon.
Although fewe do marke it, yet there is ſome change wrought ſince we beganne to ſpeake, and in the drawyng foorth of euery ſillable, there is ſome part of lyfe paſſed away, and ſome peece of tranſitorie flowre of youth decayed. And I pray you, what hath this deyntie and gallaunt young man, more then that rough and riueled olde man, beſides this ſhort and tranſitorie flowre whiche fadeth euery day? wherein what ſhoulde be ſo pleaſaunt and delectable I doo not finde, ſince he knoweth that almoſt ſooner then a man can ſpeake it, he ſhall hym ſelfe be ſuche an one as this olde man nowe is, or els is mad yf he knowe it not, vnleſſe of twayne whiche are led togeto be put to death, he is to be accompted the happier, whiche is commaunded laſt to lay downe his necke vppon the blocke to be cut of, who truely ſeemeth vnto me in a maner in the more miſerable ſtate for the deferryng of the death: Howbeit the condition of theſe men, and of the other of whom I ſpake before, is not all one, inſomuche as this man may haue ſome entreatie or meanes made for hym in the meane whyle to eſcape his fellowes execution, and to lyue. Onely death can preuent a young man, that he ſhall not lyue vnto olde age. To be ſhort, there conſiſteth no great felicitie in a ſmall proceſſe of tyme, and vnto loftie mindes there is nothyng that is ſhort accompted acceptable. Awake ye that ſleepe, it is now tyme, & open your dimme and ſlumbring eyes.
Accuſtome your ſelues at length to thynke vpon eternal thinges, to loue them, and to deſire them, and therewithal alſo to contemne tranſitorie thinges. Learne to depart from them willingly, which can not continue with you long, and to forſake them in hart, before by them ye be forſaken.
Ioy, and Hope.
My yeers are ſtable and greene.
Reaſon.
They lye whiche ſay that there is ſome age (I knowe not which) ſtable. There is nothyng more ſwift then tyme, and tyme is the charret of al ages, to carrie them away in: And doeſt thou then imagine that it is permanent? O vanitie, there is nothyng durable, for euen at this preſent thou art violently drawen away. &c.
Of the goodly beautie of the body. The ſeconde Dialogue.
Ioy.
THE beautie of my body is goodly.
Reaſon.
It is no more permanent then the tyme that commeth with it, with whiche alſo it flitteth away. Stay the tyme if thou canſt, and ſo perhaps thou mayeſt ſtay beautie.
Ioy.
The beautie of my body is ſinguler.
Reaſon.
Thou reſteſt vpon a brittle foundation. The body it ſelfe paſſeth away like a ſhadow: and doeſt thou thinke that a tranſitorie accident of the body wyll continue? Accidentes may periſhe, the ſubiect remaynyng, but when the body periſheth, they muſt needes decay. And among all the qualities whiche paſſe away with this mortall body, there is none ſwyfter then beautie, whiche ſo ſoone as euer it hath ſhewed it ſelfe as a pleaſant flowre, it vaniſheth euen in the ſight of them that woonder at it and prayſe it: it is quickely nipt with the leaſt froſt, and beaten downe with a ſmal winde, and eyther ſuddenly pinched of with the nayle of ſome enimies hande, or ouerthrowen with the heele of ſome ſickneſſe paſſing by. To be ſhort, vaunt and reioyce as muche as thou liſt, behold he commeth apace that wyl couer thee in a thin veile. How much the beautie of a liuing man is to be eſteemed, death declareth, and not death only, but olde age alſo, and the ſpace of a few yeeres, yea one dayes fit of a ſudden fetter. Laſt of all, to admit yt no outward extremitie do happen, by continuance it conſumeth of it owne accord, & turneth to nought,
neyther dyd it bryng ſo muche delyght when it came, as it procureth griefe when it departeth. The ſame, yf I be not deceyued, dyd the beautiful Romane Prince Domitian prooue ſometyme to be true, who writing vnto a certayne friende of his: Vnderſtand ſayth he, that there is nothyng more acceptable then beautie, nor more brittle. And although it were durable, and a gyft of nature that continued, yet do I not ſee what there is in this glitteryng beautie, whiche is no ſounde thyng, and which reſteth only vpon the vppermoſt part of a man, that ſhoulde be ſo muche deſired, whiche couereth many fylthy and horrible thyngs, flatteryng the ſenſes, and deludyng them with a ſimple and ſleight ouercaſtyng of the ſkin: And therefore it is better to take pleaſure in true and permanent good thyngs, then in ſuch as are falſe and tranſitorie.
Ioy.
The beautie of my body is moſt excellent.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt a veyle before thyne eyes, a ſnare before thy feete, byrdlyme vpon thy wyngs, thou canſt not eaſeſily eyther diſcerne the trueth, or folow vertue, or mount aloft with thy mynde: Beauty hath hyndred many from atchiuing honeſt exploites, and turned them to the contrary.
Ioy.
The beautie of my body is woonderfull.
Reaſon.
You ſay wel, to call it woonderful, for what is more woonderful then this vanitie? From howe many delectable thinges doo fayre young men abſteyne? what trauayles doo they ſuſteine? how muche doo they punyſhe them, to the ende they may (I ſay not be) but appeare the more beautiful, & that only to ſet foorth theyr beautie, not thynkyng vpon eyther theyr good health or pleaſure? How much tyme therewhile is there ſpent in eating and drinking? how many honeſt, profitable, and laſtly, neceſſarie buſineſſes are there neglected? And therfore kepe vnto thy ſelf this ſhort and tranſitorie good & vaine ioy, & that without enuie. Thou haſt thyne enemie at home, and that which worſe is, a delectable and pleaſant one: thou haſt that which wyl take away thy quietneſſe, and ſpende thy tyme, and is a perpetual torment: thou haſt the occaſion of payne and trouble, a plentiful matter to miniſter dangers, a maynteyner of luſtes & letcherie, & an entrance no leſſe to purchaſe hatred, then to procure loue. Perhaps thou ſhalt be amorous to women, but odious to men, or peraduenture ſuſpected: For ielouſie in wedlocke is by no meanes more kyndled,
then by bodyly beautie. And nothyng is more ardently coueted then beautie, nothing moueth the minde more forcibly, & therfore nothyng is ſuſpecied more vehemently.
Ioy.
The beautie of my body is great.
Reaſon.
The ſame is wont to enforce fooliſh young men to that which is not expedient for them, while they thynke that euen as they luſt, ſo alſo it is lawfull for them to vſe theyr preſent commoditie, not regardyng what is meete and conuenient: whiche thyng many tymes hath been the cauſe of a ſharpe and ſhameful ruyne to many.
Ioy.
The beautie of my body is alowable.
Reaſon.
It ſhalbe ſo but a very ſhort tyme, ſeeyng that this coomlyneſſe & colour of thy face ſhalbe chaunged. Theſe yellow lockes ſhal fal away, the other that remayne ſhal waxe hoarie, the ſkalie wrinkles ſhal plowe the lothſome furrowes vpon thy tender cheekes and glyſteryng forehead, a ſorowfull cloude ſhall couer the cheereful beames and ſhynyng ſtarres of thyne eyes, rotten raggedneſſe ſhal conſume and fret away the ſmooth and whyte iuorie of thy teeth, not changyng them only in colour, but diſorderyng them alſo in place, thyne vpright necke & nymble ſhoulders ſhal waxe croked, thy ſmooth throte ſhal waxe curled, thou ſhalt thynke that thoſe drie handes and crooked feete were neuer thyne owne: What neede many woordes? the day wyl come, in whiche thou wylt not knowe thy ſelfe in a lookyng glaſſe. Of al theſe thynges whiche thou thinkeſt to be farre from thee, to the ende that when they come thou ſhalt not be aſtonied at ſuche monſtruous bugges, ſay not but that thou haſt ben forewarned: And nowe I pronounce vnto thee, that yf thou lyue, theſe thynges wyll come vpon thee almoſt ſooner then it can be ſpoken: and if thou do now beleeue me, thou ſhalt then leſſe wonder to ſee howe thou art tranſfourmed.
Ioy.
In the meane whyle my beautie is noble.
Reaſon.
What can I ſay more briefly then that ſaying of Apuleius Mandarenſis? Stay a litle whyle, and there ſhalbe no ſuch thyng.
Ioy.
Hitherto the beautie of my body is excellent.
Reaſon.
I had rather the beautie of thy mind were excellent. For the beautie of the mind is a thyng far more precious, pleaſant, and ſure, then is the beautie of the body, conſiſting lykewyſe of ſemblable lawes & cumlineſſe of order, with apt and due diſpoſition of the partes. It is a woorthie matter to wiſh
for that beautie, and to imploy a mans trauayle in purſuyng the ſame, which neyther length of tyme ſhal conſume, nor ſickneſſe extinguyſhe, nor death it ſelfe ouerthrow. But now you haue mortal thynges in admiration.
Ioy.
Truely at the leaſtwyſe nowe my beautie is rare.
Reaſon.
In this, as in many other thyngs, a mediocritie is to be wyſhed. But yf thou neyther pleaſe thy ſelfe with this thy beautie, neither endeuour to pleaſe others but with that which is comely & conuenient, & ſhalt vſe it chaſtly, ſoberly, and modeſtly, thy commendation therby ſhal not be ſmally aduaunced.
Ioy.
A beautiful face honeſteth the mynd.
Reaſon.
Nay rather it prooueth it, and oftentymes draweth it into daunger: And why ſhouldeſt thou glory of that, ſince it is neyther thyne owne, neyther canſt thou keepe it long, which was neuer glorious vnto any to haue had it, but vnto many to haue caſt it of? I let paſſe to ſpeake of other: Spurina was renowmed, not for her natural beauties ſake, but for her procured deformitie.
Ioy.
I doe indeuour that vertue of the mynde, may be ioyned with the beautie of my body.
Reaſon.
If thou bryng that to paſſe, then ſhal I ſay that thou art truely and in al reſpectes fortunate: then ſhal thy beautie appeare more excellent, and thy vertue more acceptable. And although Seneca doo write, that he ſeemeth vnto hym to be deceyued, who ſayth,
And vertue founde in body fayre, the greater grace it beares: yet me thynks he myght haue ben more worthyly reprehended yf he had ſayde that it had been in deede greater, or perfecter, or hygher. But nowe ſynce by ſaying it is more acceptable, he reſpected not the thyng it ſelfe, but the indigent of the beholders: ſurely Virgil ſeemeth vnto me to be deceiued in ſo ſaying. To conclude, as the grace of beautie hath in it no ſoundnes, & nothing to be deſyred? ſo if it be wyllyngly added to vertue, neyther the one be impayred by encreaſe of the other, I wyl ſuffer that this be termed an ornament to the other, or a thyng not vnpleaſaunt to ſyght, howbeit ſhort and frayle. But yf it be alone without vertue, I wyll then cal it a burden to the mynde, and an vnluckye ſigne of ſorowful deceipt.
Of bodily health. The thirde Dialogue.
IOY.
MY health is proſperous.
Reaſon.
Whatſoeuer I ſayd er
•
while concernyng beautie, imagine that it were now agayne repeated.
Ioy.
My bodily health is ſtrong.
Reaſon.
Behold howe olde age commeth againſt thee, garded with a thouſande kindes of ſundrie diſeaſes to inuade good health, and in the meane whyle pleaſure fighteth agaynſt thee a familyar combat.
Ioy.
The health of my body is ioyfull.
Reaſon.
An vnaduiſed ioyfulneſſe, which vſeth to make the poſſeſſours thereof careleſſe and necligent, and many tymes to procure thoſe diſeaſes, whiche the diſtruſtful careleſneſſe of the party hath feared, as redie to impaire his good health.
Ioy.
The health of my body is good.
Reaſon.
Vſe it well, els it is but a ſmal good: Yea, it is a great euyll, yf (as it is woont,) it miniſter cauſe of ſome offence. Good health hath been dangerous and hurtfull to many, that myght with more ſafetie haue been ſicke in their beddes.
Ioy.
I am in very good health of body.
Reaſon.
A very good thyng truely, and muche profitable, whether a man hath ought to doo with the body, or with the minde. But lyke as there reſteth the force of poyſon in the rootes of certayne hearbes, whiche being corrected by minglyng of other thinges with them, there is an holſome drinke made of many things togeather, which before conſiſtyng but of one thing, wo
•••
e haue been hurtfull: So lykewyſe bodily health, to the ende it be not harmefull to him that hath it, ought to be tempered with none other thing, then by adioynyng thereunto the good health of the minde. A ſicke mynde dwelleth in no place woorſe then in an whole body.
Of reſtored health. The fourth Dialogue.
IOY.
I IOY
that I am deliuered of a long ſickeneſſe.
Reaſon.
Reſtored health I confeſſe, is more pleaſant then reteined. Moſt vnthankefull men, ye ſcarce knowe your goodes otherwyſe then
by looſyng them, and therefore when they be loſt they greeue you, and when ye recouer them, they make you meery.
Ioy.
A moſt ſharpe feuer hath forſaken me.
Reaſon.
Phiſitions cal thoſe feuers moſt greeuous, whiche frie with heate within the bones and marow: Howe much more greeuous are they whiche lye hyd within the mynde, whereof I would wyſh thee ſpecially to be delyuered?
Ioy.
My ſickneſſe is gone.
Reaſon.
Preſent ſickneſſe hath oftentymes doone good, while weakenyng the ſtrength of the body, it hath procured health to the mynde. Conſequently therefore when this is wantyng, it hurteth and diminiſheth the light of the mynde, and augmenteth the pryde of the body: albeit then, ſickneſſe ſeeme to be naught, yea, very euyll, notwithſtandyng that euyl is to be embraſed whiche bringeth remedie to a greater euyl.
Ioy.
At length my long ſickneſſe hath an ende.
Reaſon.
Oh thou moſt foolyſhe man, doeſt thou thynke thou haſt thus eſcaped death, to whom thou runneſt dayly? Thou art now nearer vnto hym, than then, when thou thoughteſt thou waſt hard at hym: your iourney is vnreturneable, and ye ſtay in no part thereof, ye haue no Inne to reſt in, ye cannot ſlow your pace, your ſleepe and watchyng, your toyle and reſtyng, your ſyckneſſe and health, are ſteppes a lyke vnto death.
Ioy.
I am ryd of a perilous diſeaſe.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt a creditour whom thou canſt not deceyue, thy day of payment is deferred, but thou art not diſcharged of thy band: for thou muſt needes be ſicke agayne, and dye.
Of bodyly ſtrength. The .v. Dialogue.
IOY.
THere hath happened vnto me ſtrength yenough, yea very much.
Reaſon.
Reade ouer that which is ſayd touching beautie and good health: Of lyke thyngs, like is the doctrine.
Ioy.
I haue much ſtrength.
Reaſon.
Beware thou attempt nothing truſting in thine owne ſtrength, whereby thou mayeſt appeare weake.
Ioy.
I haue great ſtrength.
Reaſon.
This is a glorie, as if it were for a Bul.
Ioy.
I haue plentie of ſtrength.
Reaſon.
An Eliphant hath more.
Ioy.
I
haue much ſtrength.
Reaſon.
I beleeue that wel: to much, turneth to ſtarke naught, or is it ſelfe a fault.
Ioy.
I haue ouermuch ſtrength.
Reaſon.
If this ouermuch be brought to a mediocritie, it is wel. But what yf it turne to a want? what if this great force be conuerted into a notable weakneſſe? Beleeue me, there was neuer yet any ſtrength of body ſo great, but that it was broken either with immoderate labour, or ſharpe ſicknes, or with olde age, that conſumeth al thyngs. The force of the mynde only is vnfatigable and inuincible.
Ioy.
The ſtrength of my body is mightie.
Reaſon.
None was more ſtrong then Milo, but many more noble.
Ioy.
My body is hugie, and of great force.
Reaſon.
Vertue, which is of all thyngs the moſt worthieſt, hath no neede of the bygneſſe of the body, but dwelleth in the mynde.
Ioy.
There is nothyng hard to this ſtrength.
Reaſon.
Yes, there are many thynges impoſſible for thee to do, and this one thyng eſpecially, that who ſo putteth his truſt in his body, ſhould be avle to clymbe on high.
Ioy.
My ſtrength is aboue the ſtrength of a man.
Reaſon.
Whoſoeuer in this behalfe ſurpaſſed al other men, yet in the ſame he was inferiour to many lyuing creatures.
Ioy.
There is nothyng that with this ſtrength I can be afrayde of.
Reaſon.
Yes truely very much: for agaynſt ſo great confidence in a mans owne ſtrength, fortune armeth her ſelfe with great force, and many tymes diſdayning to encounter in equal fight, to the entent ſhe may ſhewe how weake a creature man is, yea, when he thynketh hym ſelfe moſt ſtrong, in ſlender conflict ſhe hath ouerthrowne Giantlike perſonages. Hercules, whom none coulde ouercome, the force of lurkyng poyſon ſubdued. Milo, who was knowne and renowmed at al exerciſes of ſtrength and valiencie, one poore tree caught faſt, & held him there to be torne in peeces by wyld beaſts. And ſo that valiant ſtrength of his without example, was found to be inferiour to the force of a clouen Oke: And wilt thou truſt to thy ſtrength?
Ioy.
I am of an hugie ſtrength.
Reaſon.
Euery hugie thing, is troubled with his owne mole & bignes.
Ioy.
My ſtrength encreaſeth.
Reaſon.
This is for the moſt part the nature of al thyngs, that when they be come to the higheſt, then they fal downe againe, & that not with lyke leyſure as they gate vp. For theyr ryſing is ſlow, but theyr
fallyng is ſodayne. This ſtrength alſo whereof thou vaunteſt, when it ſhall leaue to encreaſe, wyl not continue, but fyrſt wyll priuily begin to decay, and afterwarde at length wyl openly fal. Al mortal thyngs do equally flyt away, except the mynd only, but the ſignes and footeſteps of theyr departure doo not appeare alike, vnleſſe a man wyl ſay, that thoſe lyuyng creatures do go leſſe or ſloweſt, which eyther go in the dark, or make no noyſe in their creeping, and put out the prynt of theyr goyng with the preſſing of theyr tayles.
Ioy.
I boaſt in the ſtrength of my body.
Reaſon.
What wouldeſt thou then do in thyne owne? Thynke how great thyne owne ſtrength is, for this is not thyne, but the ſtrength of thy harborow or Inne, or rather thy pryſon. It is a vayne thyng for thee, beyng thy ſelf weake, to glory of thy ſtrong dwellyng, or to ſpeake more aptly, of a ſtrong aduerſarie.
Ioy.
I reioyce in my ſtrength.
Reaſon.
What other ſhal I ſay, then that ſaying of the Poet? Thou ſhalt not reioyce long, and in ſteede of myrth, complaintes ſhall come in place. Dooeſt thou remember howe he that was ſo ſtrong, of whom I made mention twyce erewhyle, complayneth of his ſtrength in olde age?
Of ſwiftneſſe of the bodye. The ſyxth Dialogue.
IOY.
BVt I am very ſwyft.
Reaſon.
Tel me whyther thy runnyng
•
endeth? Many haue ben deſtroyed through their owne ſwyftneſſe.
Ioy.
My ſwyftneſſe is wonderful.
Reaſon.
Run ye mortal men whither ye luſt, the ſwiftnes of heauen outrunneth you, and leadeth you vnto olde age, and death. The one of theſe wyll take away your runnyng, the other your mooueyng.
Ioy.
My ſwyftneſſe is very great.
Reaſon.
It tendeth thyther, where it ſhal haue an ende.
Ioy.
My ſwiftnes is ſ
•
e
•
, as
•
he lyke hath not been heard of.
Reaſon.
It tendeth thither where there ſhalbe great ſlowneſſe.
Ioy.
My ſwiftne
••
is infinite.
Reaſon.
Be it as great as it liſt, it ſhal haue no place where to exerciſe it ſelfe: for the whole earth is as is were
a ſmal pricke or poynt.
Ioy.
My ſwyftneſſe is ineſtimable.
Reaſon.
This cōmendation is due vnto wit, vnto which the ſeas, and heauen, and eternitie, & the ſpaces of nature, the hydden places, and ſecretes of al thynges lye open. As for this body, which is circumſcribed and compaſſed about with a prick and ſmal moment of ſpace, whyther wyl the ſwiftneſſe thereof bring it, and where wyl it leaue it? Admit this ſpace were very wyde & great, eyther in reſpect of tyme, or of place, notwithſtandyng whyther ſoeuer it turneth, it maketh haſt to the graue. This narrowe roomth, and place of neceſſitie, is knowne without Aſtrologicall coniecture, or Geometrical demonſtration. So then ye runne thyther, where in deede there is no runnyng at all.
Ioy.
My ſwyftneſſe is incredible.
Reaſon.
Although thou excel al men, yet thou art not able herein to match an Hare.
Ioy.
My ſwiftneſſe is marueilous.
Reaſon.
The ſame accompaniyng many vpon hanging hilles and broken mountaynes ſydes, hath diſapoynted them of the playne grounde: and many alſo that woulde runne, or as it were, flie, by vautyng, or otherwyſe, vppon the walles and battlementes of towres, vpon the tacklynges of ſhips, vpon the cragges of hilles, without hurtyng them ſelues, ſhortly after by ſome litle tripping or ſlyding of the foote, haue in this outrage been found dead in the hygh wayes by fallyng. It is a dange
•
us thyng, and agaynſt the courſe of nature, that there ſhould be ſuch lightneſſe in heauie bodies, and the practiſe thereof wil make a man not to be nimble long: For, although he eſcape without hurt, yet he ſhall ſoone leaue it of through weeryneſſe: for the ſtrength of a man is but ſhort, and his ſwiftneſſe ſhorter.
Ioy.
I am nowe very nymble.
Reaſon.
An Aſſe alſo is nymble in his youth, & a Parde waxeth ſlow with age. In tyme nimblenes wyl waxe ſtyffe. The firſt age hath ſpurres, the laſt hath bridles: whatſoeuer thou art thou ſhalt not be long, & if thou deſire to be good, indeuour to be ſo. Only vertue is not afrayde of old age.
Of wit. The .vii. Dialogue.
IOY.
MY wit is alſo quick.
Reaſon.
I pray God it be vnto vertue: Otherwyſe look how much the quicker, ſo much the nearer to deſtruction.
Ioy.
I haue a redy wit.
Reaſon.
If it be alſo appliable vnto good artes, it is a precious furniture of the minde: If otherwyſe, it is burdenſome, perilous, and troubleſome.
Ioy.
My wit is very ſharpe.
Reaſon.
It is not the ſharpeneſſe, but the vprightneſſe and ſtaiednes of the wit, that deſerue the true and perpetual commendation. The ſharpneſſe of ſome wittes is rebated with ſmal force, and wil faile at the firſt encounter, and the moſt ſtrongeſt thinges if they be ſtretched foorth to the vttermoſt, become feeble, and ſo likewiſe weakenes ouercommeth all ſtrength.
Ioy.
I haue a moſt ſharpe wit.
Reaſon.
There is nothing more odious vnto wiſdom then to much ſharpnes: Nothing more greeuous vnto a Philopher then a ſophiſt: & for that cauſe, in old time the auncient fathers feigned that Pallas could not abyde ſpyders, whoſe curious worke, and fine webs are brittle, & ſerue to no purpoſe. Therfore let the edge of the wyt be lyke the edge of a weapon, that it may not only pearſe, but alſo ſtay from going further.
Ioy.
My wyt is prompt, and redy to euery thyng.
Reaſon.
This was ſometyme attributed vnto Marcus Cato Cenſorius, that he was as redy and apt to learnyng, as to the warres, to matters concernyng the fielde, as the citie, and alſo to the exerciſe of huſbandrie: whiche thyng in part the Gretians doo aſcribe to theyr countreyman Epa
•
inundas, and the Perſians to theyr Cyrus. Take herde whereunto this thy redie wit be enclined, that it be not craftie, and that it be not only not quicke and pliant, but rather lyght and inconſtant. For it is one thyng to be able to ſtay, and another to be able to go whyther ſoeuer a man luſt.
Ioy.
My wyt is excellent.
Reaſon.
It ſkilleth much in what kynd a man do excel: For the ſignification of that woorde is vncertayne: and true it is, that a mans wit is of force, if he do throughly bende it. And therefore geue me rather a good wit, then an excellent: for the one cannot be conuerted to euill, the other is flexible vnto many thinges. For Saluſt writeth, that Lucius Catiline was a man of notable courage, but of a corrupt naughtie wit and diſpoſition.
Ioy.
My wit is great.
Reaſon.
I requyre a good and a modeſt wit, the greatnes only is ſuſpected: For a great wit hath many tymes ben the beginnyng of great euylles. And ſeldome were there any great errours, but they ſprang from great wittes.
Of Memorie. The .viii. Dialogue.
IOY.
MY memorie is very great.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt then a large houſe of loathſomeneſſe, and a gallery ful of ſmoky images, among which many thinges may diſpleaſe.
Ioy.
My memorie conteyneth many thinges.
Reaſon.
Among many thynges there be but fewe that do delight a man, the more part of them do moleſt him, and oftentimes the remembrance of pleaſant thinges is greeuous.
Ioy.
My memorie comprehendeth ſundrie thinges.
Reaſon.
If they be good, it is wel: If they be euil, why art thou glad therof? Is it not greeuous yenough, either to haue ſuffred or ſeene euils, but that they muſt continually come into our minde, or alwayes lye forth before our eyes:
Ioy.
My memory conteyneth diuers thyngs.
Reaſon.
That is to ſay, diuers both faults, & offences, & heinous treſpaſſes, and reproches, & ſhames, & repulſes, & ſorowes, & trauailes, and dangers, although (as ſome ſay) there is pleaſure in the remembraunce of this whereof I ſpake laſt: wherein notwithſtanding we muſt this vnderſtande, that not ſo much the remembraunce of the forepaſſed euyls, as the delyght of the preſent good ſtate, procureth the pleaſure. And therfore no man taketh delight in the remembrance of his labour and danger, vnleſſe he be at quyet and in ſecuritie: no man can gladly thynke on pouertie, but he that is rytche? on ſickneſſe, but he that is in health: on pryſon, but he that is at lybertie: on bandes, but he that is free: on banyſhment, but he that is returned home agayne: Only the remembraunce of ſhame is greeuous, yea, in the midſt of honours. So that there is nothyng that is holden more deare, or is more incurable, then is a mans honour and good name.
Ioy.
My memorie is manyfolde, and conteyneth much tyme.
Reaſon.
In manyfold remembrance, are manyfolde troubles. For ſome doo nyp the conſcience, ſome pricke it, ſome wounde it, ſome confounde it, ſome terrifie it, ſome ouerthrow it, wherby it commeth to paſſe, that when men cal them to remembrance, red bluſhyng and wan palenes enterchangeably poſſeſſe theyr faces in ſilence, which thing chaunceth ſometime to the vileſt & wickedſt perſons, cauſing theyr going to be vncertaine, theyr ſpeach doubtful, with
many other ſuch paſſions moe, ſignifiyng that the mynd is troubled with to wel remembryng.
Ioy.
My memorie is prompt.
Reaſon.
I had rather thy wyl were godly, thy deſire chaſt, thy counſels honeſt, thy deedes innocent, and thy life without rebuke.
Ioy.
I haue a very firme memorie.
Reaſon.
How ſhould you men then forgeat the heauenly precepts, which are ſo few in number: How ſhould you forgeat the only God? How ſhould you then forgeat yourſelues:
Ioy.
My memorie is paſſyng firme.
Reaſon.
I thinke wel it be ſo, of earthly and vnprofitable things. But whyther and to what purpoſe tendeth this vagabounde and flickeryng memorie? Which wanderyng through heauen and earth, and forgettyng to returne to it ſelfe, calleth not to remembrance that one thing which is neceſſarie and healthful: in which yf perhaps ſometyme it find any ſmal pleaſure, moſt times it findeth plentie of griefe. And therefore not without cauſe, when one offered to teach Themiſtocles the art of memorie, which at that tyme was inuented by Simonidis, anſweared, that he had rather learne the art of forgetfulneſſe. And although he ſeemed iuſtly to anſwere ſo, as one that aboue al credite excelled al other in that gyft of nature, and whoſe memory was ouerwhelmed with innumerable repreſentations of matters & wordes, notwithſtandyng it agreeth almoſt with al men: for ſo al of you learne the thynges that you ought to forgeat, and forgeat the thinges that ye ought to learne, exerciſing your memorie in ſuch matters as were profitable to forgeat, & therin not contented with the limitatiō of nature, ye ſet forth your madnes in art.
Ioy.
My memory is almightie.
Reaſon.
This title is proper to God only. You would haue ſaid perhaps that it is of great power, notwithſtanding if an excellent memorie be of any force, which in deede is better then al othervaine curioſitie, let it reiect ye hurtful, & embrace the profitable, & not ſo diligently purſue the things that delight, as the things that profite.
Ioy.
My memory is the beſt that can be.
Reaſon.
There is nothing better then the beſt, & therfore if thou wilt ſeeme to ſay true, it behoueth thee to ſhew thy ſelf mindful in ye beſt Remember thy ſinne, yt thou maieſt be ſorie for it: remember death, that thou maieſt leaue to ſyn: remēber the iudgment of god, that thou maieſt be afraid: remember his mercy, yt thou do not diſpaire.
Of Eloquence. The .ix. Dialogue.
IOY.
BVt mine eloquence is notable.
Reaſon.
I graunt it is a great inſtrument of glory, but doubtful, with two points. It ſkilleth very much how a man do vſe this alſo.
Ioy.
Myne eloquence is flowing and ſwift.
Reaſon.
Some, not amyſſe, do compare the eloquence of a foole or a lewd perſon, to a mad mans ſwoord, both whom it is meete when they goe abrode, to be vnarmed.
Ioy.
Mine eloquence is famous and bryght.
Reaſon.
A thyng is ſayd to be bright many wayes, the Sunne is bright, a fire is bright.
Ioy.
Myne eloquence is very ſhynyng.
Reaſon.
The ſorowful cometes, and hurtful ſwordes, and hateful helmets of our enimies doo ſhyne: but that the ſhyning of eloquence may be glorious, it muſt be tempered with holyneſſe and wyſedome.
Ioy.
The plentie of myne eloquence is very great.
Reaſon.
If it be ioyned with modeſty, I doo not denie but that it is an excellent thyng, and ſurpaſſyng the common meaſure of men: otherwyſe it were better to be dumbe.
Ioy.
I haue eloquence yenough.
Reaſon.
That there was eloquence yenough and but litle wyſedome in that moſt wicked man, thou readeſt in Saluſt, yet ſought he not for any glorie by his eloquence: how be it, if it be more deeply conſydered, it was not eloquence, but vnprofitable babling. For no man can be a true oratour, that is to ſay, a maiſter of eloquence, vnleſſe he be a good man And if thou, beeing a good and a wiſe man, diddeſt ſuppoſe that this ſtreame and readineſſe of woordes, which for the moſt part doth moſt abounde in the fancie and impudent crue, was ſufficient for the commendation of the Oratorie, and the perfect duety of eloquence, or that this cunning in ſpeache only was yenough, thou waſt deceiued. The redines of the tongue, & plentie of wordes, & the art and ſkil alſo to vſe them, may be indifferent to the wicked and the godly: but that which thou ſeekeſt apparteineth to the beſt ſort of men, & not to al of them, but to very few: ſo that euill men are baniſhed frō this cōmendation, being a thing wherunto the good gifts of yt minde, as vertue & wiſdome, are required, whiche they do want. Which, if thou do not vnderſtand to be ſo, I wyll
ſhewe thee howe. And remember theſe two thinges whereof I ſpeake, & imprint their diffinitions in thy minde, whereof the one is Catoes, the other Ciceroes. The fyrſt ſayth thus: An Oratour is an honeſt man, ſkilful in ſpeaking. The other: Eloquence, ſayth he, is nothyng els but wiſedome, ſpeaking copiouſly. By theſe woordes thou ſeeſt, that to the eſſence and ſubſtaunce of an Oratour, and of Eloquence, is honeſtie and wyſedome required, whiche notwithſtanding are not ſufficient, vnleſſe there be cunning, & copie. So that the two firſt thinges do make a man good and wiſe only, the other make hym neither good nor wiſe, nor eloquent, but full of woordes. Al theſe ioyned togeather, do make a perfect Oratour, and his cunning which truely is a more rare and high thing, then they ſuppoſe that hope that it conſiſteth in multitude of woordes. And therefore if thou couet the name of an Oratour, and ſeeke for the true prayſe of Eloquence: fyrſt ſtudie vertue and wyſedome.
Ioy.
Myne eloquence is full and perfect.
Reaſon.
To that whiche is full and perfect, nothyng is wanting, but there wyll be muche lacking if the premiſſes be away. And therefore before thou pronounce of the whole, recount this one thyng ſecretely with thy ſelfe.
Ioy.
Mine eloquence is the chiefeſt.
Reaſon.
There is nothyng aboue that whiche is chiefeſt, and therefore if theſe ceaſe, it cannot be chiefe, but a certaine tranſitorie and miſhapen thing, that hath neither roofe nor foundation.
Ioy.
Myne eloquence is pleaſaunt and comely.
Reaſon.
This pleaſauntneſſe & comlyneſſe, I knowe not what flatterie and craft, not profite or vprightnes it reſembleth. Howbeit, ye pleaſant & comly pleading of a deceiptful man, is of no more force before vpright iudges, then is the payntyng of a harlot, or ſugred poyſon, or the ſtrength of a frentike perſon, or the gold of a couetous miſer. Whatſoeuer it be, although it appeare to be ſomwhat, and doo delyght, yf it want the eſſential beginning, it ought to ſeeme nothing at al, or almoſt nothing.
Ioy.
I haue great confidence in mine eloquence.
Reaſon.
Great confidence hath oftentymes opened the way to great dangers. To the intent it may lift vp the mind, and helpe it, let a man bridle his affection, & know him ſelfe, and examine him ſelfe what he hath to do: let inſolencie & diſdaine be far of. But yf, going yet farther at libertie, it begin to forget it owne ſtrength,
it is no lenger confidence, but raſhneſſe and boldneſſe, a thing of all other fartheſt of from wyſedome. This, as in all affayres it ſeemeth more pretious to ſight, ſo in affection it is more dangerous then cowardiſe. For this keepeth men at home flouthfull and deuoyde of glory, and boldneſſe pricketh them foorth in heate, and whom it was thought it woulde preferre, it caſteth downe headlong, it maketh moſt valiaunt men to appeare daſtardes, it hath cauſed moſt warie men to proue vnaduiſed: and that I may now come nearer to thee, it hath made them that appeared moſt eloquent, to be founde without ſpeeche.
Ioy.
Myne eloquence is exceeding great.
Reaſon.
Yf we may beleeue the Hiſtorician, eloquence hath dwelt among infinite vices: and holde thou faſt his aucthoritie for an vndoubted trueth, and doubt not of that which the prince of elequence writeth in his rethorikes, That eloquence cannot be without wiſdome, which as it appeareth, is plainely repugnant to that which goeth before. And in deede this eloquence, howſoeuer it be taken, the greater truely it is, the more noyſome and hurtful it is, yf it be alone.
Ioy.
Myne eloquence is ſinguler.
Reaſon.
That ſame is the thing which led the moſt ſinguler men both among the Greekes & Latines into deſtruction: Which to be ſo, Demoſthenes, and Cicero, and Antonius, wyl not deny.
Ioy.
Myne eloquence is plauſible.
Reaſon.
If thou vſe it vpryghtly without boaſtyng, there is no one meane whereby thou mayeſt ſooner get the goodwyll of the multitude, and purchaſe glory, without whiche it can not be gotten, but by meere exerciſe of vertue. But if thou abuſe it arrogantly & wickedly, thou ſhalt ſoone bring thy ſelfe into danger, and heape vp the hatred of many vpon thy head. It is the ſaying of a certaine wyſe man, that life & death are in the power of the tongue. The tongues, not of one man onely, but of a certaine many, haue ouerthrowne whole commonwealthes, & wil ouerthrow hereafter. The tongue, is the worſt and moſt hurtful member of an euil perſon. There is nothyng ſofter then the tongue, and nothing harder.
Ioy.
Mine eloquence is ratlyng.
Reaſon.
Thunder and lightning ratle alſo.
Ioy.
Mine eloquence is floriſhing.
Reaſon.
The poyſonyng hearbe Aconitum floriſheth likewyſe. To be ſhort, turne and returne it whiche way ſoeuer thou canſt, thou haſt both a narrowe
way to glory, and a very prone path vnto enuie.
Of Vertue. The .x. Dialogue.
IOY.
IS it not then lawfull for me to boaſt of vertue?
Reaſon.
Admit it be lawful, yet it is lawful to boaſt in him only, who alone is the auctour and geuer of vertue, and al goodnes.
Ioy.
The vertue of my minde is great.
Reaſon.
Take heede, leſt the greater it be ſuppoſed, the leſſe it be in deede.
Ioy.
My vertue is tryed in doubtful ſtate.
Reaſon.
It is the propertie of vertue, to weigh not what is doone, but what ought to be doone: not what we haue, but what is wanting: whereby it commeth to paſſe, that we ſee it not vaunt of that whiche is alredy gotten, but careful for that which is to get. I would ſay, if I might ſo ſpeake, that vertue is couetous, or truely lyke vnto couetouſneſſe. It thirſteth continually, it burneth dayly, and the more it ſeeketh, the poorer it ſeemeth to it ſelfe, and the more it coueteth. It hath no ende of deſiryng, it hath no ſufficient recompence of deſartes.
Ioy.
My vertue is greater, then is accuſtomable for men.
Reaſon.
I feare me leſt this boaſtyng proceedeth rather from pride, then from vertue.
Ioy.
My vertue is very muche renowmed.
Reaſon.
Humilitie is the foundation of true vertue: neyther is there any renowme ſo great, which pride wyl not obſcure. This doth he knowe to be true, who beyng created bright, ſhinyng, and renowmed, and aduauncing himſelfe, deſerued not onely to be made darke and obſcure, but alſo the prince of darkenes. Whiche thing if it hapened vnto him, what may other hope of themſelues?
Ioy.
My vertue is excellent.
Reaſon.
It is not accuſtomable for vertue to boaſt or wonder at it ſelfe, but to imitate that which is in other. And therefore alwaies breathing higher, & alwayes aſpiring farther, in compariſon of it ſelfe, it litle regardeth any other.
Ioy.
My vertue is abſolute.
Reaſon.
Vertue neuer iudgeth ſo of it ſelfe, it truſteth not in it ſelfe, it is not arrogant, it knoweth that this is a time of warfare, & not of triumph, & therfore it neuer ſleepeth, but is alwaies buſie. It is alwayes redy, as though it began but now, which notwithſtanding thinketh not yt it hath accompliſhed al thing, or yt it is perfect & abſolute. Beleeue me, it is not vertue, errour is obuerſant vnto vertue, & contrary vnto it: whoſoeuer
thinketh that he is come to the toppe, in this he is firſt deceyued, that he is not where he thinkth him ſelfe to be. Moreouer, in that by wandring that way, it forſaketh the path that leadeth thither, & while it preuenteth that which it hath not, it neglecteth that which it myght haue had of it owne accorde. For why? there is nothyng ſo contrarie to profite, as the opinion of perfection. No man endeuoreth to doo that whiche he ſuppoſeth he hath doone alredie. This errour hath often tymes hindred ſuche as haue attempted great matters, and that were nowe redie to reache to the hygheſt.
Ioy.
My vertue is abſolute, as touching the capacitie of man.
Reaſon.
If thou lay downe al thy lyfe before thyne eyes, and being an vncorrupt Iudge in thine owne cauſe, thou require of thy ſelfe an accompt of thy woordes, deedes, and thoughtes, through euery day, then ſhalt thou ſee howe muche there is voyde in thy minde, and howe great a roomth vices doo poſſeſſe.
Ioy.
At the leaſtwiſe my wiſdome is commune & ordinarie.
Reaſon.
In the higheſt thinges a meane hath ſcarcely any place: but admit it haue, notwithſtanding that is not the matter of ioy, but of traueile and ſtudie: For that whiche tendeth to the higheſt, is not in quiet vntyl it attayne thereto.
Ioy.
I haue ſome vertue.
Reaſon.
Leaue the iudgement hereof vnto other. And yf thou haſt any vertue, the ende of the ioy is not there, but in him vnto whom true vertue leadeth by the narrowe way: For we profeſſe that Philoſophie which teacheth vs not to enioy, but to exerciſe vertue: And therefore nowe this is not the f
•
l time of reioycing, being beſette rounde about with ſo many dangers of death, but rather of wiſhing and hoping. Thou mayeſt hope that thou ſhalt reioyce, but ſo, that thou feare that thou mayeſt be ſorie.
Ioy.
If I haue any goodnes, I knowe from whence it commeth, and I reioyce therein: If I lacke any thyng, I knowe from whence to require it, and therein is my hope.
Ioy.
This is vertue, and nowe thou haſt founde an aſſured path vnto true ioy.
Of the opinion of Vertue. The .xi. Dialogue.
IOY.
WHatſoeuer I am, men haue a good opinion of me.
Reaſon.
Opinion changeth not the thing it ſelfe.
Ioy.
The common opinion is, that I am a good man.
Reaſon.
What yf thou be nought, is not then the opinion falſe? For him that knoweth a thing, & falſely reioyceth, it is a madneſſe.
Ioy.
In the opinion of the common people, I am called good.
Reaſon.
There is nothing which opinion can not imagine to it ſelfe. But whatſoeuer good or euyll dwelleth in the minde, it is not altered by diuers opinions, nor ſpeeches. And therefore, if all the men in the worlde doo ſay thou art a good man, thou art in dede made neuer awhyt the better.
Ioy.
At the leaſtwiſe I haue a good name.
Reaſon.
The wiſe man among the Hebrewes ſayth, that a good name is better then great riches. And agayne in another place, A good name, ſayth he, is letter then precious oyntmentes. By theſe wordes he hath expreſſed the value of a good name, and the ſmel of good report, in comparing them to golde, & to an oyntment: But howe can a name or any thyng els be good, if it be falſe? And therefore whatſoeuer name a wicked man hath, his wickedneſſe notwithſtanding is not the leſſe. Then let hym not glory in his vaine name, but let hym heare the ſaying of the ſame wyſe man, The name of the vngodly. ſayth he, ſhall rot away: and that ſaying alſo of another man, This is our glory, to wit, the teſtimonie of our conſience. If that doo grudge within thee, what wyl the whiſperyng of flatterers auayle thee? what good wyl that name doo thee, which is gotten by feygning and flatterie? there ſpringeth no good out of an ill roote: Neyther mayeſt thou ſay that a good name ſpringeth hereof, ſeeyng in ſo ſaying thou canſt not ſay trueth.
Ioy.
My citizens thinke well of mee.
Reaſon.
It ſkilleth not what other men thinke of thee, but what thou thy ſelfe thinkeſt.
Ioy.
My citizens ſpeake well of mee.
Reaſon.
Beleeue them not, they know not what they ſpeake, & they lye willingly, by reaſon of a certaine itche they haue in their tongues, to ſpeake doubly and on both ſides, whoſe continual cuſtome is turned into nature.
Ioy.
Very many ſpeake well of mee.
Reaſon.
To beleeue thoſe that are ignoraunt, what is it other, then willingly to be deceiued?
Ioy.
The
countrey rounde about ſpeaketh wel of mee.
Reaſon.
Perhaps allured by meanes of fayre ſpeache, or gyftes on thy part, or lookyng for ſome commoditie at thy handes N
•
uer beleue him that loueth, or him that hopeth.
Ioy.
My neighbours renoume my name.
Reaſon.
One of them abuſeth another, and all of them abuſe thee.
Ioy.
My citizens geuen
•
e a good report.
R aſon.
Within thy minde there is a more incorrupt and aſſured witnes: Demaund of thine owne conſience, and beleeue that.
Ioy.
Men haue a good opinion of mee.
Reaſon.
Opinion is the name of a doubtful thyng Vertue is a thing moſt aſſured.
Ioy.
I ſeeme vnto my ſelfe to be a good man.
Reaſon.
Then art thou euyl: For good men doo miſlyke and accuſe them ſelues.
Ioy.
I ſeeme good vnto my ſelfe, and to others.
Reaſon.
What if thou be euyll, and they fooles?
Ioy.
My citizens hope well of mee.
Reaſon.
Endeuour that their hope be not deceiued. It is a ſhame to delude them that hope well of a man, in that whiche he may doo of hymſelfe.
Ioy.
I thynke I am ſuche an one of whom many doo not hope in vayne.
Reaſon.
It thou were ſo, thou wouldeſt not beleeue it. It is an euyll thyng for a man to deceyue others, but woorſt of all to deceyue hym ſelfe.
Ioy.
All men thinke that I am good.
Reaſon.
But what yf thou know the contrarie?
Ioy.
All men call me good.
Reaſon.
And doeſt thou beleeue them all? Art thou not aſhamed to be called that whiche thou art not? But among many other thynges, this is a ſtrange qualitie which is engraff
•
d within you, concernyng your ſelues and your affayres, yea, although they be ſecrete, to beleeue euery one better then your ſelues. And
•
ccording to Horace ſaying, Both to feare hing infamie, and to be d
•
lighted in falſe glory.
Ioy.
The whole common people prayſe me with one voyce.
Reaſon.
There is no way more prone to errour, and to fallyng downe headlong, then by the common peoples ſteppes: For almoſt whatſoeuer the common people doth prayſe, is rather woorthy of reprehenſion.
Ioy.
I pleaſe all men.
Reaſon.
God deſpiſeth thoſe that pleaſe men, and to pleaſe men, is to diſpleaſe God: and the contraries, reioyce in theyr contraries.
Ioy.
I haue the name of a good man.
Reaſon.
That m
•
ſt be preſerued by conſtancie and honeſtie of lyfe, otherwyſe it loyl ſoone vaniſh,
for it waxeth ſtale.
Ioy.
The people doth muche aduaunce my prayſe.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt planted wythered trees in a drye ſoyle.
Ioy.
My commendation alſo is great among the learned.
Reaſon.
If it be true commendation, it wyll continue, and as Cicero ſayth, it wyll gather roote, and ſpreade foorth. But if it be falſe, it wyl quickly tall as doth a flowre.
Ioy.
Al men, as it were with one mouth, doo ſet foorth my vertue.
Reaſon.
Ye ought not to glory in the ſtate of men, nor in your owne vertue, although it be true, but in hym that is auciour of all vertues: who ſo doth the contrarie, he ſhall not onely not obteyne by the teſtimonie of men that whiche he hath not, but ſhall diminiſhe or looſe that which he hath.
Ioy.
Al the whole common people ſpeake well of mee.
Reaſon,
I haue alredie ſayde, and nowe I repeate it agayne: Whatſoeuer the multitude thinketh, is vayne, whatſoeuer they ſpeake, is falſe, whatſoeuer they diſlyke, is good, whatſoeuer they like, is euyll, whatſoeuer they commende, is infamous, whatſoeuer they doo, is foolyſhe. Then goe thy wayes nowe, and vaunt thy ſelfe of the foolyſhe ſpeache of madde men.
Of wyſedome. The .xii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue obteyned wyſedome.
Reaſon.
A great thyng yf it were true, and whiche can not be ſeparated from vertue. And therefore yf thou haddeſt imbraced that, this were to be allowed: but both of them are more eaſie in opinion, then in effecte.
Ioy.
I am wyſe.
Reaſon.
Beleeue mee, yf thou were ſo in deede, thou wouldeſt neuer ſay ſo: For a wyſe man knoweth howe muche it is that he lacketh, and therefore he boaſteth not, but ſuſpecteth.
Ioy.
I profeſſe my ſelfe to be wyſe.
Reaſon.
It were well, yf there were ſo many wyſe men, as there are profeſſours of wyſedome: But the one of theſe is verie harde, the other verie eaſie.
Ioy.
I am wyſe.
Reaſon.
If thou wylt be a wyſe man in deede, ſuppoſe not thy ſelfe to be ſo. It is the firſt ſteppe of folly, for a man to thinke hym ſelfe wyſe: and the next, to profeſſe hym ſelfe to be ſo.
Ioy.
By my ſtudie I haue artained to wiſedome.
Reaſon.
In deede by that meanes men attayne vnto it: but whether thou haſt attayned vnto it, recount with thy ſelfe. It is not a matter of ſmall ſtudie, requiryng a ſpace of tyme as other Artes doo: it requireth the whole lyfe of a man, be it neuer ſo long. If a man, as they ſay, runnyng all the day, come to the euenyng, it is ſufficient. That moſt notable ſaying of Plato, as many other alſo of his is wel knowen, wherein he pleaſeth Cicero well, and me alſo: to wit, That he is happie, to whom it hath chaunced, yea in his olde age, to attaine vnto wyſedome, and true opinions. Theſe, whether thou haſt met withall halfe way, or rydyng vpon ſome fleeyng Horſe haſt attayned vnto before thy tyme, it may be doubted, for that thou art ſo ſoone be come wiſe.
Ioy.
I haue receyued the perfection of my wyſedome from heauen.
Reaſon.
I confeſſe in deede, that wyſedome is an heauenly gyft, but truely he was a great man, and a friende to heauen, that ſayde theſe woordes, Not that I haue nowe receyued it, or am perfect.
Ioy.
I learned wyſedome with a greedie mynde.
Reaſon.
As the deſyre of money and many other thynges is euyl, ſo the thyrſt of wyſedome is good: But whether thou be capable of ſo great a thyng, conſider: Surely he of whom I ſpake before: As for mee,
••
yth he, I doo not thinke that I haue atteyned it. And doubeleſſe he was a great man, who talkyng with God of hym ſelfe ſayd thus, Thine eyes haue ſeene myne imperfection. This is the propertie of a wyſe man, to acknowledge and confeſſe his owne imperfection.
Ioy.
I am called a wyſe man.
Reaſon.
Neyther thine owne nor any other mans ſaying can euer make thee a wiſe man, but the thyng it ſelfe.
Ioy.
I am commonly called a wyſe man.
Reaſon.
The common people hath learned, as it were by their owne aucthoritie, to call mad men wyſe, and wyſe men mad, that is to ſay, to eſteeme falſhood for trueth, and trueth for falſhood. There is nothyng ſo far of from vertue and trueth, as is the opinion of the common people.
Ioy.
All men call me wyſe.
Reaſon.
This perhappes maketh ſomwhat to thy
fame: but nothyng to thy wyſedome. But I perceyue that thou cleaueſt to the titles of learnyng, then which there is nothing more liberal: Howbeit they are not ſufficient to make them wyſe men that are not, but they make them ſynguler, and notable, and honeſt, and honourable, and excellent, ſo that they are aſhamed of the ſimple tytle of wyſedome, whiche vnto how fewe in deede it is due, it is ſtraunge to vnderſtande: notwithſtandyng cuſtome hath ſo preuayled, that it is numbred vp among excellent ſtyles and tytles, whiche they that heape them togeather in ſuche wyſe, do knowe that them ſelues do lye: But they are wyllyng to be counted ciuil, yf it were but by lying. You that reade them, and thynke them not only to be true, but ſomewhat inferiour to the trueth, are deceyued by a common errour. No man wyll enquire of his owne matters: Euery man beleeueth other men of hym ſelfe. Wouldeſt thou knowe how wyſe thou art? caſt thyne eyes behynde thee. Remember howe often in this lyfe thou haſt ſtumbled, how many tymes thou haſt erred, howe often thou haſt tripped and fallen, howe many ſhamefull thynges, howe many ſorowful thynges, how many irkſome thynges thou haſt committed, and then cal thy ſelfe a wiſe man yf thou dareſt: but I ſuppoſe thou wylt not dare.
Ioy.
I know my ſelfe to be wiſe.
Reaſon.
Learned perhaps thou wouldeſt ſay: For there be ſome in deede that are learned, although but fewe: but none almoſt that are wyſe. It is one thyng to ſpeake wyſely, and another thyng to lyue wyſely: one thyng to be called, another thyng to be wyſe in deede. There haue been ſome that haue ſayd that there is no man wyſe: which ſaying, howe true or falſe it is, I doo not diſpute: Truely it is to peremptorie an opinion, and prone to diſpayre, and repugnant to the ſtudie of wiſedome. The Hebrues do much commend of theyr wyſe Solomon: who, howe wyſe he was in deede, his number of wyues and concubines witneſſeth, but moſt of all his woorſhyppyng of falſe gods. The Romanes vaunt of theyr wyſe Laelius and Cato. Greece, whyleſt it flooryſhed, is ſayde to haue had ſeuen wyſe men. Theſe ſeemed vnworthie of that title vnto thoſe that came after. They that excuſe them, ſay that they dyd not take vpon them that title, but that it was attributed vnto them through the errour of the people. There was
one onely, that by his owne poſſeſſion, and in his owne iudgment, was wyſe, the moſt foole of them all, Epicurus. Whiche title he woulde perticipate with Metrodorus, neyther dyd he refuſe ſo honourable a gyft at his friendes handes, and toke it in good part to be called w
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ſe, that the ſame glory of his, what euer it was, might be the errour of the other. Socratis only was iudged wyſe by the Oracle of Apollo: Perhaps for this purpoſe, that by a falſe teſtimony, the falſe God might mooue hym to m
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oneſſe and pryde, who came neare in deede to a wyſe man. This much I haue ſayde of the auncient wyſe
〈◊〉
. As for our age, it is more happy, wherein there are not reckoned one, or twayne, or ſeuen, but in euery towne are numbred multitudes of wyſe men, as it were flockes of ſheepe
•
nd it is no marueyle that there are ſo many, ſeeyng they are ſo eaſily made. There commeth a foolyſh young man to the Churche, his maiſters prayſe and extoll hym, eyther vpon loue or ignorance, he ſwelleth, the people are aſtunned, his kinſfolk and friendes reioyce at hym: He (beyng wylled) getteth vp into the pulpit, & ouerloking al from an high, confuſedly murmureth I can not tel what Then the elder ſort of Strines extol him with praiſe to heauen, as one that hath ſpoken like a God. In the meane whyle the belles iangle, the trumpets rattle, rings flye about, kyſſes are geuen, and a peece of a blacke round cloath is hung on his ſhoulders: When this is done, the wiſe man commeth downe that went vp a foole. A ſtraunge Metamorphoſis, which Ouid neuer knew. Thus are wyſe men made now a dayes: but a wiſe man in deede, is made otherwyſe.
Ioy.
I am wyſe.
Reaſon.
They that thynke very magnificently of themſelues, boldly do attempt thynges aboue theyr power, and faylyng in the myddes of theyr indeuour, do learne by their owne peryl or ſhame, howe partial iudges they haue ben in theyr owne cauſes. It were better, beleeue me, to reiect falſe opinions, to behold a mans owne inſolencie, & to wiſhe that thou neuer haue occaſion to trie thy wiſdome, which may declare how that thou haſt gloryed in nothyng. This is a more direct & ſafe meanes to ſeeke wiſedome.
Ioy.
I thinke that I haue atteyned to wiſedome.
Reaſon.
But if thou wilt hearken vnto me, thou ſhalt ſooner atteyne therunto by ryſing vp & indeuouryng, then by beleeuyng.
There is nothyng that ryſeth higher then painful humilitie.
Of Religion. The .xiii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Glory in my perfect religion.
Reaſon.
There is but one moſt excellent and perfect religion, whiche is eſtabliſhed vpon the name of Chriſt, and vpon that moſt aſſured rocke: al other are vayne ſuperſtitions, and goinges out of the right way, and errours whiche
•
eade vnto hel and death, not this which is tranſitorie, but the euerlaſtyng. Howe many, and what notable men, (thynkeſt thou) haue ſuffered this miſerable want of true religion, who in al other thynges haue excelled the reſidue? They haue cauſe to lament eternally, and thou whe
••••
to glory and reioyce, not in thy ſelfe, but in hym, who hath vouchſafed to preferre thee in ſo great a matter before thoſe that were far greater then thou, then whiche thyng there can no greater nor better be geuen vnto thee in this lyfe. Of whiche I would not ſticke to ſpeake ſomewhat more at large, vnleſſe it were now by heauenly illumination almoſt knowne to al.
Ioy.
I am entred into holy religion.
Reaſon.
Holy orders and ceremonies belong only to this religion, and of all other they are madneſſe, and ſacrilegious ſuperſtitions, neyther is it ſufficient to be entred. Perhaps it is a greater matter then thou thynkeſt for, although it be a pleaſant trauayle to a deuout mynd: neyther is it yenough to know God, which the deuyls doo, that hate hym: Loue, and worſhypping are required, whiche conſiſt of thoſe thynges, whiche I woulde were by men ſ
•
well fulfylled, as they are knowne.
Ioy.
I pleaſe my ſelfe in my true religion.
Reaſon.
To pleaſe a mans ſelfe, is to be proude: As for this true religion, which tyeth thee vnto God, & GOD vnto thee, it engraffeth humilitie in godly mynds, and rooteth out pryde. In this maner therfore it is lawful for thee to reioyce, that by how much the more mery and religious thou art, by ſo much the better thou art, & more abounding in good workes, geuing thanks vnto him, who ſheweth thee a direct path from this mortal life, vnto the life euerlaſting.
Ioy.
I thanke God for it, I haue obteyned true religion.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt ſaid wel, god be thanked; keepe
•
wel then frō erro
••
s,
from negligence, from ſinnes. And perſwade thy ſelfe thus, if thou haue obteined it, and exerciſe thy ſelfe therein, as it behooueth thee to do, then ſhal the controuerſie ceaſe wherof we contended erewhile, foraſmuch as it is written in holy ſcripture, Godlyneſſe is true wyſedome: and by an other alſo, The feare of God, is the begynning of wyſedome, neyther is the ſame ouer paſt with ſcilence by prophane wryters. Of which matter Lactantius maketh mention in the ſeconde booke of his inſtitutions. Hermes affirmeth,
ſayth he, that they that knowe God, are not only ſafe from incurſions of Deuyls, but alſo that they are not tyed by deſtinie. Only godlineſse, ſayth he, is their keeper and defence, For a godly man, is neyther ſubiect to the wicked deuyl, nor to deſtinie. God delyuereth the godly from all euyll: For godlyneſſe is the only good and felicitie of man: And what godlyneſſe is, he ſheweth in an other place by theſe woordes: Godlineſſe is the ſcience and knowledge of God. He affirmeth alſo, that Aſclepius dyd expounde at large the ſame ſaying in a certayne princely Oration. Thus thou ſeeſt, howe two moſt obſtinate Paganes doo grope about your trueth. Such is the force of trueth, that oftentymes it draweth the tongues of the enimies vnto it.
Of Freedome. The .xiiii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Was borne in freedome.
Reaſon.
He is not free that is borne, but he that dyeth; fortune hath great power ouer hym that is commyng into the worlde, but none ouer hym that is dead: She ouerthroweth ſtrong Cities: She vanquyſheth valya nt armyes: She ſubuerteth mightie kyngdomes. The graue is an impregnable caſtle: there the wormes beare rule, and not fortune. Who ſo therefore haue ſtept into that lybertie, of al men they are free from the inſultes of this lyfe. Thou boaſteſt thy ſelfe to be free, and knoweſt not whether thou ſhalt enter this bay a free man, I ſay not into thy graue, but into thy chamber. Your libertie whiche hangeth by a weake threede, as all your thynges els doo wherein ye truſt, is always waueryng and bryttle.
Ioy.
I am a free man.
Reaſon.
For this cauſe, I ſuppoſe, thou calleſt thy ſelfe a free man, becauſe thou haſt no maiſter: but heare what Annaeus Seneca ſayeth, Thyne age is proſperous, ſayth he, perhaps it wyll ſo continue: knoweſt thou not at what age Hecuba,
and Craeſus, and the mother of Darius,
and Plato, and Diogenes came into bondage?
By theſe examples he admoniſhyth thee. There be many other examples of Seneca, eyther concealed or not knowne. Dooeſt thou not remember how Attilius Regulus (though vnworthy) yet ſuſteyned this reproche? Haſt thou forgotten Valerianus that was of latter yeeres? whereof the one, of whom I ſpake laſt, was a captayne, and the other a prynce of the people of Rome, and anon the one made ſlaue to the Carthagians, the other to the Perſians, and this man cruelly put to death, the other conſumed with long and miſerable ſeruitude. What ſhall I ſay of the kynges of Macedonia, and Numidia? Perſes on the one ſide, and Siphan on the other: who both fell downe from the top of theyr kyngdomes into the Romanes fetters. I omit the auncient fall of kynges and princes. Thyne age hath ſeene ſome thruſt out of the court into pryſon, and the ſame man alſo both firſt a kyng, and laſt a bondſlaue. For euery one is by ſo muche the more miſerable in bondage, by howe much he was the more happy in freedome. Be not proude therefore of thy libertie, foraſmuch as bonde men are made ſo ſoone, not only of free men, but of kynges: And maruayle not at it, ſeeyng that according to the ſaying of Plato, Kinges are no leſſe made of ſeruauntes: humane thynges are chaunged dayly.
There is nothyng vnder heauen permanent: who wyl hope that any thyng can be fyrme or ſtable, in ſo great an vncertayntie? Neyther thynke thy ſelfe to be a free man in this reſpect, becauſe thou haſt no maiſter, becauſe thou art borne of free parentes, neyther waſt euer taken pryſoner in warre, nor ſolde for a ſlaue. Ye haue inuincible maiſters of your myndes, and there is a ſecrete poyſon and infection whiche lurketh in the firſt Original of man. The generation of you in the very byrth is ſubiect to ſinne, a greater bondage then which cannot be imagined. Ye haue hydden enemies, and priuie warres. There be ſame that ſel miſerable ſoules, whiche (alas) for to ſmall a price,
ye make ſale of. Yea, ſome of you are ſubiect to outragious miſtreſſes, to wyt, moſt fylthy pleaſures, whereunto you are tyde with an vndiſſoluble knot. Goe your way now, & vaunt of your freedome: But you, beyng blynde, ſee nothyng but that which belongeth to the body, ſo that ye iudge hym to be bounde that is ſubiect to one mortal maiſter: As for hym that is oppreſſed with a thouſande immortall tyrantes, ye accompt to be free, euen finely as ye doo all other thynges. Veryly, it is not fortune that maketh a man free, but vertue.
Ioy.
I am a free man.
Reaſon.
In deede thou art ſo, if thou be wyſe, yf thou be iuſt, if thou be valiaunt, yf thou be modeſt, if thou be innocent, yf thou be godly: If any of theſe be wantyng, knowe thou, that in that reſpect thou art bonde.
Ioy.
I was borne in a free countrey.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt alſo knowne in thine age certayne free cities, which in ſhort tyme haue become bonde. But yf auncient examples be more knowne and renowmed, the moſt free cities of Lacedemon and Athens, firſt ſuffered a ciuil, and afterward a forraigne yoke. The holy citie of Ieruſalem, and the mother of euerlaſtyng libertie, was in temperall ſubiection to the Romanes, and the Aſſyrians, and at this preſent is in captiuitie to the Egyptians. Rome it ſelfe, beyng not only a free citie, but the Lady of nations, was firſt bond to her owne citizens, and after to other moſt vyle perſons: ſo that no man can euer truſt to his owne freedome, or his owne Empire.
Of a gloryous Countrey. The xv. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Was borne in a glorious countrey.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt the more trauayle to come into the lyght: For the ſmal ſtarres do ſhyne by nyght, and the Star Bootis, and the day ſtar lykewyſe, are dull, in comparyſon of the beames of the Sunne.
Ioy.
I am a citizen of a famous countrey.
Reaſon.
It is wel if thou be an harborer of vertues, and an enimie to vice: the one of theſe proceedeth of fortune, the other of thy ſelfe.
Ioy.
My countrey is fortimate and noble.
Reaſon.
It ſkilleth much by what nobilitie. For, a countrey is made noble by the number of inhabitauntes, by the aboundaunce of rycheſſe, by the fertilitie
of the ſoyle, and the commoditie of ſituation, holſome ayre, cleere ſprynges, the ſea nygh, ſafe hauens, conuenient riuers. A noble countrey is commonly called ſuche an one as is fruitful of Wyne & other commodities, as corne, cattayle, flockes of ſheepe, heardes of rudder beaſtes, mynes of golde and ſiluer. Ye cal that a good countrey wherein are bread ſtrong Horſes, fat Oxen, tender Ryddes, and pleaſant fruites. But where good men are bred, ye neyther enquyre after, neyther thynke it woorth the enquiryng, ſo excellent iudges of matters ye be. Howbeit, only the vertue of the inhabitauntes is the chiefe commendation of a countrey. And therfore dyd Virgill very wel, who in deſcribyng the Romane glory and felicitie, dyd not ſo muche as touche one of theſe thynges, whiche ye doo only reſpect, but declared the mightineſſe of the Citie and Empire, and the valiantneſſe of the peoples myndes: He called them men alſo happy, in reſpect of theyr chyldren and iſſue. This is the true felicitie and nobilitie of a Citie.
Ioy.
My countrey is famous for good Citizens.
Reaſon.
What if thou thy ſelfe be obſcure? But what yf thine owne fame bewray thee, and bryng thee out of darkneſſe, and leade thee abroade into the lyght: thou ſhalt then be the ſooner noted.
Ioy.
My countrey is very famous.
Reaſon.
Catiline had not ben ſo infamous, vnleſſe he had ben borne in ſo famous a countrey Vnto Gaius and Nero, there happened another heape of infamie, to wit; an Empyre: & fauour aduaunced the worlds children vnto the top of fortune, that they might be the farther knowen.
Ioy.
I lyue in a moſt noble countrey.
Reaſon.
Eyther ſufferyng the contempt, or enuie of many: For without one of theſe a man cannot lyue in a great Citie: the firſt is the ſafer, the other the more famous euyl, and the nobleneſſe of the countrey, whereof thou ſpeakeſt, is cauſe of them both: Among ſo many eyes there is no lurkyng.
Ioy.
I am of a well knowen countrey.
Reaſon.
I had rather that thy countrey were knowen by thee, then thou by thy countrey, vnleſſe thou gliſter of thy ſelfe: what other thing will the brightneſſe of thy countrey bring vnto thee but darkeneſſe. A famous Citie hath accompted of many as obſcure perſons, who if they had ben in ye darknes of ſome poore corner
of the countrey, had been ſufficiently famous and noble.
Ioy.
My countrey is renowmed.
Reaſon.
It hath then it owne peculyar commendation, and it taketh part alſo of thyne: What ſo euer thou dooeſt wel, the chiefe prayſe thereof redowneth in a maner to thy countrey. There was one that went about to aſcribe Themiſtocles glory vnto the citie of Athens, who anſwered very grauely, and as it became ſuche a man to doo: For when a certayne felowe called Seriphius, an inhabitour of a certayne ſmal and obſcure Ilande, in heat of wordes, obiected hym in the teeth, that it was his countreys glory, and not his owne, that made hym famous: Veryly anſwered he, neyther ſhoulde I be obſcure if I were Seriphius, neyther thou be renowmed yf thou were an Athenian. He truſted not to the glory of his countrey, but to the glory of his owne vertue: muche more manlyke then Plato, although he were the greater Philoſopher. Howbeit ſometymes in great wits, there be great and wonderful errours: He therefore among other thinges aſcribeth the renowme of his countrey to his felicitie. And that thou mayeſt knowe the whole mynd of this moſt excellent man in this reſpect, Plato ſayd that he gaue thankes for many thynges. Truely this was wel ſayde, if ſo be that he vnderſtood to whom, and for what gyftes he ſhould geue thankes. He gaue thankes to nature. Firſt, for making hym a man, and not a dumbe beaſt, of the male kind, & not a woman, a Greeke, & not a Barbarian, an Athenian, & not a Thebane, & laſtly, that he was borne in the tyme of Socratis, & not at any other, to the ende he might be taught & inſtructed by hym. Thus thou ſeeſt, how among his cauſes of gratulation and glorying, he putteth in alſo that he was borne in Athens. What I wil ſay herein, perhaps thou attendeſt. Although our talke be begun concernyng this poynt onely, notwithſtandyng foraſmuch as it hath chaunced vs to make mention of ſo excellent a man, I wil declare what other men, and what I my ſelfe alſo, do thinke of this his whole talke. I know that there be ſome famous & eloquent men, which do boldly affirme, that there was neuer any thing ſpoken by any man more fooliſhly: vnto whoſe opinion there lacketh litle but I do agree. For, I pray you, to what purpoſe is it to reioyce in theſe thynges: what if he had ben borne a Barbarian, or
made a woman? Haue there not ben many Barbarians, that haue excelled many Grecians, both in vertue and wit? Are there not ſome women, that both in glory of many thinges, & inuention of Artes, are more commendable than certayne men? To be ſhort, what if he had been borne an Oxe or an Aſſe, what ſhould that haue belonged to Plato of whom we ſpeake? who then ſhould not haue been Plato, but that thing rather which dame nature had framed him. Vnleſſe perhappes he gaue credite to the madnes of Pithagoras, to wit, that ſoules paſſed out of one body into another: whiche opinion is ſo fonde, that truely there was neuer any thing ſpoken more foolyſhly or more impudently, I ſay not by a Philoſopher, but by a man nothing more diſſonant to the trueth and godlynes, or that religious eares doo more abhorre. Farther then, What, was it ſo noble a matter to be borne at Athens, that it coulde not be ſo good to be borne elſwhere, no not at Thebes? Were not Homer, and Pythogoras him ſelfe, and Democrates, and Anaxagoras, and Ariſtotle, and thouſands other, borne eſwhere then at Athens, and as highly eſteemed, as they that were borne there? And that I may not now depart from Thebes, which the Grecians are vſed to diſpiſe: If ye ſeeke for a wit, was not the Poet Pindarus borne there? who as Horace ſayth, Can not poſsibly be matched by imitation? If ye require renowme of excellent deedes, Bacchus, and Hercules, were ſo famous, that Alexa
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der kyng of Macedonie, that contemned almoſt al men, propoſed thoſe twayne to him ſelfe to imitate, as the higheſt and chiefeſt paternes of glorie. But if ye looke for both theſe in one, is there not freſh in memorie, and as it were before your eyes, Epaminundas of Thebes, an excellent Philoſopher, and a moſt valiaunt Captaine, and in the vpright iudgement of all men, prince and chiefe of the Grecians in al ages? The ſame is he that almoſt vtterly ſubuerted the Lacedemonians, and put Platoes cuntreymen the Athenians in ſuche feare, that when he was dead, beyng delyuered of a great terrour, immediatly they gaue them ſelues vp to licentiouſneſſe and flouth: And whyle he flooryſhed at Thebes, howe many thouſandes of idle perſons and fooles lyued at Athens, who is able eaſily to recount in his mynde? He ought therefore to haue geuen thankes, not for that
he was borne at Athens, but for that he was borne ſuche an one, that is to ſay, with ſuche a witte, and ſuche a mynde, and finally in ſuche good lykyng of his parentes, and in ſuche plentie of temporall goodes, that he myght be ſet to ſchoole and inſtructed in all goodnes: For theſe thynges, I ſay, it was behouefull for ſo learned a man, ſo zelouſly to haue geuen thankes vnto that GOD, whiche had beſtowed them vppon hym: not for Socrates, nor for Athens, in whoſe ſchoole, and in whiche citie howe many vniuſt and vnlearned perſons there were, it is an eaſier matter to geſſe, then to knowe. But to ſpeake no more of the citie: In that ſchoole among many other, were Alcibiades and Critias, the one an emmie to his countrey, the other a moſt cruell tyrant: to whom howe muche theyr maiſter Socrates auayled, let Plato hym ſelfe aunſweare mee, or thereby let hym vnderſtande howe vayne a thyng it is whiche the doctrine of an earthly ſchoolemaiſter ſoundeth in the eares of his ſchollars, vnleſſe the grace of the heauenly Maiſter be inſpired withall into them, without whiche, Socrates coulde doo nothyng: although, as we haue ſayde before, he was iudged to be the wyſeſt man by the oracle of a lyuyng God. But notwithſtandyng, let hym excuſe hym ſelfe, or ſome other man for hym, what euer he be, of his moſt foolyſhe conuerſation with his two wiues, moſt tatter and teſtie olde women. But this and the reſidue, we haue ſpoken, as it were by the way, except this one thing only, whereby thou ſhouldeſt vnderſtand, that Plato being ſo great a man as he was, notwithſtanding was led with the vanitie of his gloryous countrey: Not to this ende, that thou ſhouldeſt couer thyne errour, with the buckler of ſo great a companion, but that thou mighteſt more diligently eſchewe him, vnto whoſe example and aucthoritie thou ſeeſt that great wittes haue yeelded.
Ioy.
I lyue in a large countrey.
Reaſon.
The diſcommodities of a large citie are many: the churche is farre of, the market fatte of. The one of theſe is hurtful to the minde, the other to the body:
•
he artificers, & our freendes be farre of. There is no harder diſtance then this is, whom it is paynfull to goe viſite, and diſcourteſie to neclect. Doeſt thou heare how Horace complayneth of this matter? One of my freendes, ſayth he, lyeth vppon the
byll Quirinus, the other at the farthermoſt part of Auentine, and both of them muſt be viſited. Whither ſoeuer thou determineſt to goe, or to traueyll abrode, diſpoſe the affayres of thy houſe, foraſmuche as thou art vncertayne whether thou ſhalt returne or not, and the returne it ſelfe is painefull: Some tyme menne wander in ſuche wyſe, that they neede to direct their courſe by the Loade ſtone and Iron: this way is the eaſieſt way, and that is the readieſt way: this way thou mayeſt auoyde the place of iudgement, and that way the theatre, and this way the market. Theſe and a thouſande moe are the rockes and daungers of Cities, through whiche when thou paſſeſt to thyne owne houſe, thou goeſt, as it were, to an other worlde, ſcarce hopyng that thou ſhalt come thyther. This diſcommoditie alſo thou readeſt in Horace, howe that Philip the Oratour when he came home, complayned, beyng in yeeres, that the ſhyppes were too farre of from the place of iudgement. Theſe troubles are wantyng in a ſmall towne, or whatſoeuer diſcommoditie otherwyſe is alleaged.
Ioy.
I am remooued from a ſmall Towne, into a great Citie.
Reaſon.
Wyllyngly to launche out of a quiet Hauen, into a tough Sea, is raſhneſſe. But I maruel the leſſe, for that the euentes were proſperous. Notwithſtanding, the familie of the Claud
••
did the like in comming from the Sabines to Rome, Marcus Cato from Tu
•
culum, Marius and Cicero from Arpine, and it proſpered well with them. But where ſhall a man fynde ſuche men? It is not ſafe to drawe into an example whatſoeuer hath been attempted by rare and ſinguler wittes: But when thou haſt once determined, to endeuour with all diligence among great difficulties, to ryſe vp among them that are hygh, gouernyng thyne enterpriſe with iudgement, whiche here I name in good part, thou ſhalt haue the moe prouocations to vertue. Perhappes there are ſome whom thou wylt folowe vnto glorie. Thou ſhalt haue a place where thou mayeſt exerciſe thy ſelfe, where thou mayeſt concend for prayſe with thine equalles, and where thou wylt be aſhamed of ſo many witneſſes. Vnto many, not ſeldome, that which the courage of the minde did not geue, the force of ſhame hath ſupplied, and to abandon cowardice, often times a looker on hath doone more good, then courage:
Both theſe men truely of whom I ſpake erewhyle: And Numa Pompilius alſo, who was ſent for from the Cures, and Seneca that came from Cordub
•
, and Seuerus that came from Leptis, and many other that came from other places, who ſhoulde haue been great men where euer they had been: that they were the greater at Rome, both the emulation of vertue, and the plentie of woorthie examples, brought it to paſſe. Endeuour therefore, that that whiche is only good, doo not peryſhe in this thy remoouyng, and that in thy wandryng, thou ſeeke none other thyng, then that the beautie of thy newe countrey may aduaunce thee in the ſight of many.
Of an honourable Familie. The .xvi. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Come of an honourable Familie.
Reaſon.
Doeſt thou returne againe vnto follie? What belongeth that vnto thee?
Ioy.
My ſtocke is auncient, and glorious.
Reaſon.
To glory in that which is another mans, is a ridiculous bragging. The woorthy deedes of the Grandfathers, are blemiſhes to the degenerating chyldren: And there is nothyng that mere be wrayeth the ſtaynes of the poſteritie, then the bryghtneſſe and glory of the auncetours. Many times the vertue of one man, hath ben profitable to another. Vnleſſe thou winne true prayſe of thyne owne, looke not to haue it from another.
Ioy.
Myne auncetours haue been of great nobilitie.
Reaſon.
I hadde rather other ſhoulde be knowen by thee, then thou by other: But doo thou ſome notable deede, that thou mayeſt alſo be noble: For vnleſſe theſe men had doone ſome thyng woorthy prayſe, they had neuer been noble.
Ioy.
My blood is of great cleereneſſe.
Reaſon.
All blood is for the moſt of lyke colour, but yf there be any cleerer then other, nobilitie hath not cauſed it, but health.
Ioy.
My parentes are of great cleereneſſe.
Reaſon.
What yf thyne obſcuritie be the greater? your bodyes alwayes, and your patrimonie often, ye receyue of your parentes: But who ſo hath integritie and cleereneſſe, he ſeldome tranſporteth it to his ſonne: and he that hath it not, ſometyme beholdeth
it in his chyld. How much more noble then his father was Caeſar? How muche more obſcure then his father was the ſonne of Africanus? Who, yf clearenes and nobilitie could haue been delyuered by ſucceſſion, how noble he ſhoulde haue been, thou knoweſt. Howbeit, his father myght loue hym, but make hym noble he coulde not: For he ſuffered an infinite eclipſe of his lyght in his ſonne. So that whiche is moſt precious in the heritage, is by the teſtatours iudgement exempted, and all the ſolemnitie of makyng teſtamentes, is but for the beſtowyng of the vileſt ſubſtance. If I had leyſure, I coulde nowe reſyte a thouſande ſuche obſcure heyres of moſt noble parentes, and alſo if it were expedient. Thou knoweſt my meaning.
Ioy.
The nobilitie of my ſtocke is
•
ery great.
Reaſon.
This nobilitie wyll doo thee none other good, then that thou canſt not lye vnknowen, if thou wouldeſt: So that thereby thou art depriued of the moſt pleaſaunt ſtate of lyuing in ſecrete and out of knowledge. Whatſoeuer thou doeſt, the people wyl talke of it: How thou liueſt at home, and how thou faceſt at dinner and ſupper thy neyghbours wyll couet to knowe, as though thy Father and thy Grandfather had ſent ſpyes vnto thy houſe, to ſuruey the ſecretes of thy familie, and the order of thy dayly dyet. Enquirie ſhalbe made what thou doeſt with thy chyldren, what with thy ſeruauntes, and what alſo with thy wyfe, yea whatſoeuer thou doeſt, and the leaſt woorde thou ſpeakeſt of the ſmalleſt matter that can be: and they wyl moſt ſtomacke thee, that haue leaſt to doo with thee. This is the fruite of thy cleareneſſe and nobilitie, that if thou tread thy ſhooe neuer ſo litle awrye, thou ſhalt be called the ſhame of thy ſtocke, and a foule forſaker of that path whiche was troden before thee vnto honour and dignitie. This I ſay, happeneth alwayes vnto them that come of a noble familie. Other common matters almoſt whatſoeuer, doo ſtayne the glory whiche is alredie gotten, for that it is an harde thyng to couer that whiche is cleare and ſhynyng.
Ioy.
I am borne moſt nobly.
Reaſon.
Thou foole, nobilitie is not gotten by byrth, but by lyuyng: and many times alſo (whereat thou mayeſt woonder) by dying.
Ioy.
I was borne in great lyght.
Reaſon.
Beware of ſhame, whiche by the bryghtneſſe of lyght
is more notable, and eaſier to be ſeene. Vnleſſe thou doo ſo, it were better to haue been borne in darkneſſe. Whooremongers, and theeues, and all the crue of lewde perſons, doo ſeeke darkeneſſe: onely this foule and falſe nobilitie fleeth not the lyght, but coueteth to be knowen, to whom I woulde geue this counſell as beſt to auoyde infamie, not to be knowen at all.
Ioy.
The nobilitie of my ſtocke is auncient.
Reaſon.
The vertue then belike was auncient, without which there is no true nobilitie.
Ioy.
My nobilitie is very auncient.
Reaſon.
Too muche antiquitie, taketh away brightneſſe of thynges, and breedeth forgetfulneſſe. How many noble families haue there been, whereof at this day there is no memorie? How many moſt flooriſhyng families haſt thou thy ſelfe leene, whiche in fewe yeeres haue come almoſt to nothyng? Whereby thou mayeſt make a coniecture of thoſe whiche nowe flooriſhe, and of thoſe whiche nowe beginne to aryſe, and to lyft vp the head. Tyme deminiſheth and conſumeth all thing. Families doo not onely waxe olde, but cities alſo: yea, the worlde it ſelfe, vnleſſe we be deceyued, draweth to an ende. Thou whiche vaunteſt of thyne antiquitie, beware that antiquitie extinguyſhe not thy glorie, and that the roote be not wythered, with whoſe flowres thou wouldeſt be odorned. Whatſoeuer is made in tyme, decayeth in tyme: And your nobilitie beganne in tyme, and ſhall ende in tyme, and that whiche long tyme brought foorth, and longer dyd encreaſe, the longeſt dooeth ouerthrowe. It may be that nowe whyle thou imagineſt of thy nobilitie, it ſurceaſſeth: and thou ſhouldeſt perhappes haue been more noble, yf thou haddeſt begunne later.
Ioy.
My nobilitie is of olde tyme.
Reaſon.
A vayne ambition, and whiche reſteth not on it owne merites, but vppon the forgetfulneſſe of other: For all thynges are confounded, and the lyne of ſucceſſion is doubtfull. Among whiche thynges it happeneth vnto thee, not to be the more noble, but the more knowen. The begynnyng of all menne is all one. There is but one Father of mankynde, all flowe from one fountayne, whiche paſſeth ſome tyme troubled, and ſome tyme cleere vnto you all: on this condition, that that whiche a litle before was cleere, anon be made
obſcure, and that whiche was obſcure, be made cleere. So that there is no doubt concernyng the fountayne, but by meanes of what ſmall channell the water of this your noble blood (as
•••
crme it) flowed vnto you. Hereof it commeth, that he that went to plough yeſterday, goeth a warfare to day, and he that was woont proudly to ryde through the myddes of cities, managing his fierce courſer with a golden Brydle, nowe dryueth his flowe Oxen vp and downe the flabbie fieldes with a ſimple Goade. And I thinke that ſaying of Plato to be true: That there is no king, but he came of a lowe degree, and none of lowe degree. but he came of kinges. This change and condition of mans ſtate, is ſo chaungable and inconſtant, that it is ſundrye tymes altered from the one to the other: ſo that thou canſt not marueyl yf a Ploughman goe to warre, or a Souldiour returne to the Plough. Great is the wheele of mortall thynges: And becauſe the courſe thereof is long, this ſhort lyfe perceyueth it not: Which vnleſſe it were ſo, both the ſpades of kinges, and ſcepters of clownes myght be diſcerned. But nowe tyme deceyueth mens memories, whyle they be buſyed about other matters. And this is all your nobilitie, wherefore ye ſwell, and proudly aduaunce your ſelues, lyke a vayne generation as ye be.
Ioy.
The diſcent of myne aunceſtours is noble.
Reaſon.
Howe farre wylt thou wander? We ſpeake of thy ſelfe. Thou goeſt about to ſubſtitute others, I can not tell whom, in thy ſteede: who perhappes maye aunſweare ſomwhat for them ſelues, but nothyng for thee, vnleſſe thou furnyſhe out the cauſe with thyne owne witneſſes. But admitte that theſe thy Graundfathers, and great Graundfathers were noble, to wit, when as they beganne by the wynges of vertue to lyfte them ſelues vp aboue the common multitude: that is the fartheſt roote of nobilitie. But goe then farther, ſeeke out more narrowly, thou ſhalt fynde theyr Grandfathers, and great Grandfathers, obſcure and vnknowen men: To be ſhort, this nobilitie of names and images, is both ſhort, and howe muche ſoeuer it is, truelly it is not thyne owne. Leaue of therefore to colour thy name with other mens vertues, leſt if euery one require his owne, thou be laughed at, for thine owne nakedneſſe.
Ioy.
I am noble.
Reaſon.
How muche a valiant clowne is more noble then a cowardly noble man, thou ſhalt then knowe, when thou haſt conſidered how muche better it is to founde, then to ouerthrowe nobilitie. If thou want examples, there be plentie at home, and in the warres, and are commonly founde in reading, ſo that thou maieſt by thy ſelfe be vmpire and iudge of the reſidue: And among all, it ſhalbe ſufficient to conſider of two couple of men. Into one ſkale of the Ballance put Marius and Tullie, into the other, ſet the aduerſaries of theſe twayne, Aulus and Clodius: whiche way the beame wyll caſt, and howe muche Rome muſt geue place to Arpine, who is ſo blynde that he ſeeth not?
Ioy.
I am noble by byrth.
Reaſon.
I ſayde euen nowe, a true noble man is not ſo borne, but made.
Ioy.
A woonderfull nobilitie, at leaſtwyſe of this common ſort, is left vnto me by my parentes.
Reaſon.
This nobilitie commeth not by byrth, but by lyuyng. And heare alſo I ſee one good thyng. Ye haue ſtore of familiar examples, and ye want not houſehold leaders, whoſe ſteppes it were a ſhame for you to forſake: This if thou ſuffer to ſlyppe, thy nobilitie is but a famous and difficult euyll. It happeneth, I knowe not how, that it is a harder matter for a man to imitate his owne aunceſtours, then ſtrangers: perhappes becauſe vertue ſhoulde then ſeeme! diſcende by inheritaunce. I ſpeake it not willingly, but experience it ſelfe ſhe weth it: Seldome is it ſeene, the ſonne of an excellent man, to be excellent.
Of a fortune beginning. The .xvii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Was borne in great fortune.
Reaſon.
Thou beganneſt thy lyfe with great vnquietneſſe: For Saylers not improperly cal a tempeſt fortune. And a great fortune is a great tempeſt: and a great tempeſt, requireth both great counſayle, and great ſtrength: Thou haſt therefore rather cauſe of care, then of myrth.
Ioy.
I was borne in very great fortune.
Reaſon.
Doeſt thou thinke it better fortune to be borne in the wyde Sea, then in a ſmall Riuer? Although no wyſe man wyll graunt the ſame, how
muche then is it more fortunate to be borne in a Palace then in a Cotage? Our mother the earth receyueth al men, whereſoeuer they were borne.
Ioy.
I was borne in great fortune.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt wayed anker contrary to good lucke: and if thou haue waſted the day in foule weather, prouyde that when nyght commeth thou mayeſt be in the hauen.
Ioy.
I was borne aloft.
Reaſon.
Thou art ſubiect to tempeſtes and whyrlewyndes, and hope of lying hyd is taken from thee. Pythie is the ſaying of the Lyrike Poet: The mightie Pine tree is often ſhaken with windes, and high towres fall with the greater force, and the lyghtnyng ſtriketh the hygheſt Mountaines. As I muſt confeſſe that it is noble to be borne aloft, ſo is it neyther quiet nor ſafe: All humane loftineſſe of it ſelfe is vnquiet, and continually troubleſome. So that I maruayle why that ſaying of Mecaenas in Seneca ſhoulde ſo muche be diſlyked: For the height it ſelfe thundreth at the loftie thinges. Seeyng other haue vſed this woorde, why is he only reprehended? Moreouer, there is nothyng ſo hygh that is not ſubiect both to trouble, and care, and ſorow, and enuie, and griefe, and in the ende obnoxius to death: And truely, it is death only that beateth downe al mortall pryde and eminencie.
Ioy.
I was borne in hygh and great eſtate.
Reaſon.
They that fall from hygh, are ſore hurt, and ſeldome is it calme vpon the wyde Sea: ſo in the bottome thou needeſt not to feare fallyng, neyther dread ſhypwracke vpon the drye lande.
Ioy.
My begynnyng was fortunate.
Reaſon.
Marke the ende: As other in theyr kyngdomes, ſo can fortune alſo do much in hers. The more fortunate the begynnyng is, the more vncertayne is the ende. Doeſt thou not perceyue howe all worldly thynges are toſſed as it were with a whyrlewynde, ſo that lyke as a troubleſome tempeſt diſquieth the calme Sea, and after a fayre mornyng followeth a cloudie euenyng, and as many tymes a playne way leadeth into a rough ſtraight: ſo ſodayne calamitie foloweth the pryde of proſperitie, and ſorowfull death ſtoppeth the courſe of a moſt pleaſaunt lyfe, and moſt tymes the ende is vnlyke the begynnyng.
Ioy.
I began an hygh.
Reaſon.
Take heede where thou leaueſt. The lyfe is alwayes reported by the ende, and thou ſhalt playnely feele the ende, although thou perceyuedſt
not the beginnyng.
Ioy.
I was borne in great felicitie.
Reaſon.
We haue both ſeene the ſonnes of bondmen ſittyng in princes thrones, and the ſonnes of princes faſt fettered in chaynes.
Of Sumptuous fare The .xviii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Am brought vp in a plentiful houſe.
Reaſon.
This ſeemeth vnto thee to be a great matter, but in deede it is litle, and anon wylbe nothyng: Wyl the wormes therefore ſpare thee more then the hard huſbandman? Or wyl they feede vpon the ſofter meate more greedily? I doo neyther ieſt with thee, nor terrifie thee. Thou knoweſt, although thou doe deſſemble it, that thou art foode prepared for that banquet, and perhaps that it is nowe almoſt ſupper tyme, or that at the leaſt wyſe it cannot be farre of. For the day is ſhort, and the gheſtes be hungrie, and death which layeth the table is redy, and therefore conſyder what this dayntie banquetyng wyl auayle thee.
Ioy.
I haue been brought vp moſt plentifully from myne infancie.
Reaſon.
Oh euyl begynnyng of chyldhood, wherein neglecting good artes, and accuſtoming thy ſelfe to exquiſite fare, and delicate forraigne drinkes, euen from thy tender yeeres, thou art growen vp to a woorthie expectation: to knowe theyr taſtes and ſmelles, and with experience to woonder at deintily prepared banquettes, and to reuerence the glyſteryng Plate, neyther late, as was the maner of valiaunt men, to aſſwage the hunger and thyrſt with ordinarie meates, but with buſie loathſomeneſſe, and payneful burdened ſtomacke, to begynne agayne with them in the mornyng: When ſo many holy Fathers haue hungred in the wylderneſſe, and ſo many famous Captaynes haue lyued hardly, ſparyngly, and ſoberly: When thou art beſet about with thy Iewelles and deyntie dyſhes at the Table, yf at one ſyde of thee were Curius Fabritius Corumcanius feedyng in earthen veſſelles on Hearbes geathered with his owne handes, and goeyng to plowe faſtyng tyl nyght, and on
the other ſyde Quintinus and Seranus, or he that was after theſe twayne Cato Cenſorius Conſul, ſaylyng into Spayne, from whence he returned in triumph, who dranke none other wyne then his Saylers dyd: or yf al theſe ſhoulde meete thee beyng moſt knowne enimies vnto pleaſure, with Paulus alſo and Antonius ſittyng by a fountayne ſyde, and diuiding the bread whiche was ſent them from heauen: would not thy ſuperfluous meate for ſhame and ſorowe cleaue to thy lawes, and the delight of thyne amazed taſte abate? Thou wouldeſt call to mynde how that by theſe men which were contented with ſo ſlender fare, and ſo baſe toyle, both theyr countrey was defended, and moſt noble kynges and peoples ſubdued, and, which is the moſt hardeſt conqueſt of al, their owne fleſh, the world, and the inuiſible enimies of the ſoule vanquiſhed, and howe thou thy ſelfe waloweſt in thy coſtly iunkets, and ſumptuous idleneſſe, ouercome with filthy voluptuouſneſſe,
Ioy.
My fare is moſt delicate.
Reaſon.
I perceiue wel this, that al thyne endeuour is, that thy lothſome curioſitie may come to the bottome of miſerie. There is nothing brought to: paſſe by▪ the excellencie of meate and drynke, vnleſſe there be alſo plentie, yea rather to much, and quatting. Doeſt thou not cal to mynd, how that Auguſtus Caeſar, who perhaps if he had liſt could haue fared more delicately than thou, was, as it is written of hym, a ſmal meate man, and that almoſt alſo of a common diet? I ſay nothing of the meates whereon he vſed to feede, to the intent thou ſhouldeſt not diſdayne hym as ſome olde ruſticke father of the countrey, and among thy Feaſauntes, and Partridges, and Peacockes, laugh at the courſe bread, and ſymple cheeſe, and ſmal fyſhes which that prince was wont to eate. But how much better had it been yf ſo he theſe your Feaſances, and this great furniture of your tables, & the great felicitie of your throates had lyen ſtyl vnknowne at Colanos & the riuer Phaſis, rather then to haue flowne hyther to corrupt our age, & to prouoke laſciuiouſneſſe. How much more honeſt was that worlde wherof Ouid ſayth: Among thoſe people the fyſhes yet did ſwim without taking by deceite, and the Oyſters lay ſafe in theyr ſhels: neither dyd! talie know the cōmoditie which wel
•
thy Iouia yeldeth, nor the foule which delighteth to kil the Pigmees.
Ioy.
I enioy moſt choyce wyne.
Reaſon.
Euylly, but properly thou haſt ſayde, I enioy, that is your ende, and to that were ye borne? How much better woulde ſmal wyne, or wyne delayed with water, or a draught of the pure runnyng ſtreame aſſwage your thyrſt? Truely the Prince of whom I ſpake erewhyle, vſed alſo very ſeldome, for ſo it is written of hym, to drynke wyne, neuer drinking aboue thriſe at a ſupper, while he was in the campe. As for you, ye quaffe ten tymes before meate, and at meate an hundred tymes, and the quantitie of your carouſſes cannot be meaſured, and your tentes be more full of wyne then your cities. There is no enterpryſe, nor ſkyrmyſhe made, but by ſuche as are drunke. He abſteyned from wyne in the day tyme, and you ceaſſe not to drinke both day and nyght: He when he was a thyrſt, in ſteede of drynke, dyd eate bread dypped in colde water, or receyued the top of a Lettice, or a hyt of a moyſt Apple, or a ſlice of a Cucumber: but you, prouokyng thyrſt by al meanes, do quenche the ſame with hoat burnyng wynes, which do prouoke another thyrſt by drynking of them, or rather, to ſay the trueth, ye inflame it the more, neyther doo ye remember in the meane whyle, that ye drynke the blood of the earth, and the poyſon of Hemlock, whyle in ſuche ſort ye drynke wyne, as Androcides wrote to kyng Alexander of Macedonie. Whoſe counſayle yf he had folowed, truely he ſhoulde not haue ſlayne his friendes in his drunkenneſſe, as Plinius ſayth: nether ſhoulde he hymſelfe in his drunkenneſſe at length haue peryſhed. The ſame vſe of indifferent meates, and abſtinencie in drinkyng, hath alwayes for the moſt part ben founde in all the worthie and famous captaynes and princes, and in Iulius Caeſar it was ſingular: which howe muche it is to be preferred before your riotouſneſſe, your ſleepe, being compared with theyr diligence and glory of aduentures atchieued, may be iudge.
Ioy.
I enioy moſt bountifull fare.
Reaſon.
If men be forbyddento enioy honeſt thynges, howe muche more diſhoneſt and filthy thinges? Art thou not aſhamed in that thou applyeſt the fruite of thyne immortall ſoule, to the ſeruice and ſlauery of the tranſitorie bodie? This is an Epicureal perſwaſion, but heretofore infamous and abandoned. To be ſhort, among al the pleaſures which creepe from the body to
the ſoule, they are concluded to be moſt vyle, whiche are accomplyſhed by feelyng and taſtyng, for as much as theſe ſenſes are common vnto vs with beaſtes, and crooke downe the reaſonable creature vnto beaſtly conditions, a more contemptible and abiect thyng then which, the ſtate of mankinde cannot incurre.
Ioy.
I am delighted in deintie, & ſundry kyndes of meates.
Reaſon.
Be delighted in them, and enioy them, yf thou know nothyng better: but yf thou know nothyng worſe, then be aſhamed to reioyce in meate, as cattayle doo in theyr prouender, and to make thy belly a place to ſet vp diſhes of meate in, and to take that office from the Binne. Finally, vnderſtand this much, that thou canſt not long endure this life which thou ſo lykeſt: loathſomneſſe is next neyghbour to fulneſſe, and faſtyng conſumeth meate. Hunger taſteth nothing, but it is ſweete and ſauerie. There is nothing ſo deintie, which fulneſſe maketh not vnpleaſaunt and loathſome. And euen thoſe men which geue them ſelues to this delight, confeſſe that it is encreaſed by appetite and ſeldome vſing, and, as al other pleaſures are, is rebated with plentie and often frequenting, and many tymes conuerted to nothyng, and into the contrarie: Yea, Epicurus hym ſelfe commended and obſerued a thyn dyet, as the only ſtay of his profeſſion. And that whiche honeſt men do aſcribe to ſobrietie & modeſtie, that dyd he aſcribe vnto pleaſure. Whatſoeuer kynde of lyuyng thou chooſe, thou muſt knowe that one path agreeth with diuers endes, there is one kynde of dyet continually to be vſed, and that thyn and moderate: vnleſſe ſometyme perhaps ſeldome libertie vpon honeſt reſpect do geue a man licence without breache of ſobrietie. This kynde of dyet whereof I ſpeake, maketh men drye, and ſtrong, and pleaſaunt to beholde, and in ſmell of body neyther greeuous to them ſelues nor to others. Compare with theſe thoſe which are moyſt, puffyng and blowyng, ſhakyng, ſtynkyng, and to vſe Tullies woordes, compare with theſe, thoſe ſweaters, and belchers, and then thou ſhalt perceyue what difference there is betwene ſparyng and ſurfetyng, and yf the vertue do not tel thee, yet the very lookyng and countenaunce of the men wyl ſhewe which way the choyce wyl lye: ſo that there is
〈◊〉
man ſo much a bondſlaue to his belly, but yf he weygh diligently the matter
with hym ſelfe, wyl preferre ſobrietie far before exceſſe. If thou contempne theſe thynges as light, doeſt thou alſo contempne the diſeaſes whiche ſpring hereof, and death alſo? Which although of it ſelfe it be to be contempned of noble and valiaunt courages, happening naturally & honeſtly, or at leaſt wyſe not ſhamefully: ſo is there nothyng more diſhonourable or more to be eſchewed, then death to happen vpon a diſhoneſt cauſe. Dooeſt thou not heare what counſayle Eccleſiaſticus geueth? Be not greedie ſayth he, of euery kynde of dyſhe, neyther geue vp thy ſelfe vnto all maner of fare. For in abundaunce of meate conſiſteth ſickneſſe, and greedineſse prouoketh ſubuertion to the ſtomacke: Many haue peryſhed by ſurfetyng, but who ſo vſeth abſtinence, prolongeth his owne lyfe.
Ioy.
I feede on deyntie and ſundrie kindes of meates.
Reaſon.
If thou ouerloade thy Horſe, thou ſhalt ouerthrowe hym, and yf thou feede hym to proude, he wyll kycke thee: The belly lykewyſe is not to be truſted concernyng that wherewith it is charged. It were not vnprofitable counſalye in checkyng all enticementes and pleaſures, but eſpecially of the belly, to conſyder theyr endes.
Of Feaſtes. The .xix. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Vaunte in feaſtes.
Reaſon.
Good fare apperteineth to pleaſure, but feaſtes to madneſſe. For what is it other than pompous frenſie, to cal togeather a great many ryche folkes into one place, from theyr honeſt buſines, and to entertayne them with honourable weerineſſe, and to glut a number of bellies with delicate and hurtful meates, for whom it had been better to haue been emptie, or to haue been filled at theyr owne diſcretion? wherein as perhaps thou ſhalt pleaſe one mans mouth, ſo ſhalt thou diſpleaſe the appetite of many. For it is ſeldome ſeene that gheſtes agree in diet, and that is found to be true which the Poete ſayth: I haue three gheſtes which ſeme vnto me almoſt to diſagre, requyring diuers meat, with a greatly differing appetite, what I geue, what I geue not, what
geueſt thou, Flaccus, or what dooeſt thou? Vnleſſe a man would geue them nothyng at all, and leaue this care to them who haue no greater care. Let them doo what they lyſt, which can doo nothyng els. Now if three doo diſagree, what wyl an hundred, or a thouſand doo? They wyl ſcarce depart, at leaſt wyſe, without ſecrete murmuryng. This had an yll taſte. That had an il ſmell. The other ſhould haue been ſet downe firſt. This came colde to the boarde. That came out of ſeaſon. The other dyſhe was ſet downe with a ſorowful countenaunce. This with an angrie looke. That meate was rawe. The other torne. One wayter was to ſlowe. This to haſtie. That felowe coulde not heare. The other was ſtubburne. One was to loude: Another to ſylent. This ſeruant brought warme water to the table with vnwaſhed handes: Another fylled ſmall wyne to the boorde. With theſe and ſuche lyke complayntes, not only the Halles, but the wayes doo reſounde, and the ſtreetes alſo, and not without cauſe. For to what purpoſe is it, ſo gently to ſolicite men with entreatie to dyne at thy houſe? to what ende ſerueth that vnprofitable coſt, and ſuperftuous labour, and to bryng ſo great a troupe into one court, but only to boaſt thy ſelfe among thy neyghbours, and as it were thy ſelfe beyng on foote, to make a voluptuous triumphe of thy banquettes? The trumpets alſo and ſhaknes ſounde foorth togeather, ſo that it appeareth that al thyngs are prepared for pompe, and nothyng for thriftineſſe. Imagine, that the next day after, one of the gheſtes ſtoode in neede of ſo muche as the dyſhe of meate was woorth which he ate: he ſhal neuer be able to obteyne it of the maiſter of the feaſt. For the feaſt was not made for the gheſt, but for hymſelfe: Whiche although vndoubtedly it be ſo, notwithſtandyng when drunken men ſytte at the Table ſwearyng and affyrmyng any thyng vpon theyr othe, they ſtrike the meate, ſaying theſe woordes: I ſweare, ſay they, by this our good loue and charitie whiche nowe we exerciſe togeather. To whom it may be well anſwered: Nay rather, ſweare by this your drunkenneſſe and ſurfet. This were true charitie, yf beyng faſtyng and drie, you would conuert that to the vſe of the poore, whiche now ye lauiſh out to your owne deſtruction, then might ye not improperly ſweare by your charitie.
Ye byd vnto your feaſtes the proude ryche men, and ye ſhut out the poore hungrie ſort, thynkyng it a glorious matter to haue plentie of woorſhypful gheaſtes. And in this point, beſydes the opinion of the common people, whiche is the fountayne of all errour, ye haue an aucthour: Beleeue me ſayth Cicero, it is ae ſeemely thyng for the houſes of worſhipfulmen, to be open vnto worſhipful gheſtes.
In deede ſyr, this is very good, for them to be open to choſe that can requite with the lyke, but to be ſhut agaynſt the needie. For whiche matter we knowe that Lactantius, perhaps not vnworthyly, hath reprehended Cicero, who hath alſo handled the ſame matter better in another place, but in the ſame booke. This, ſayth he, is a great duetie, as euery one hath moſt neede of helpe, ſo eſpecially to ſuccour hym. The contrary whereof is practiſed by moſt men, for loke of whom they expect greateſt commoditie, yea although he haue no neede of them, to them they become moſt ſeruiceable. Yea, now Cicero in deede thou ſayeſt wel and truely, for ſo men ought to doo, although many do contrary. But to returne agayne to the matter, yf thou wylt be without the complayntes and diſdayne of gheſtes, abſteyne from feaſtes: They that haue ben preſent at a feaſt, haue had ſome iuſt cauſe perhaps to reprooue ſomewhat, and to be greeued: but he that is offended becauſe he was not at the feaſt, he is no gheſt, but a moſt impudent Paraſite, whoſe tongue is no more to be eſteemed then his belly, whiche is not only not to be feared, but many tymes to be wyſhed: for as the Satiricall Poet ſayth, what commedie can there be better, or what more pleaſaunt Ieſter, then an hungrie ſtomacke? Some ſuch are deſcribed by the Comic writers, & diuerſly prouoke laughter: what could they do, vnleſſe they were hearde in preſence? To conclude, this is ye ſumme of al: there is none other way to auoid the controulment of feaſting, then by not feaſting, & to driue away the nips and madnes of flatterers, then by laughing at them, & contemning them: thou haſt none other meanes to purchaſe quietnes.
Ioy.
I geue my ſelf to feaſtyng.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt choſen a worthy ſtudie, what is moſt agreeable to this caſt, and what to that: or with what meates hunger is beſt ſtaked, or with what ſauces prouoked. Behold this noble & profitable part of Philoſophie, what meate ſhal fyrſt, what ſeconde, and
what thyrd, cloy thy loathſome ſtomacke? And what kynde of wine doth ſende vp moſt pleaſant fumes to the brayne.
Ioy.
I am delighted in feaſtes.
Reaſon.
If this be meant as the Latine woorde Conuiuium ſoundeth, and as our forefathers, who were the aucthours of this name dyd purport, I wyll not onely not reprehende it, but commende it: For it is a pleaſaunt thyng, and honeſt, and to be wyſhed, for freendes to lyue togeather: but you cal eating togeather, a feaſt, and to a moſt filthy thing, ye geue a moſt excellent name, as though freendes coulde not lyue togeather, otherwyſe then by eatyng and drynking, and not better by thynking, and talkyng: ſeeyng that, as Cicero ſayeth, To a learned man, to thinke, is to lyue, and there is nothing more pleaſaunt, then the woonted and faythfull conference of freendes. Couer not therefore ſo ſhamefull a thyng with ſo fayre a name, for it wyll appeare through: and that which is called a lyuing togeather, ſhalbe knowen to be but an eatyng togeather. Hearken rather to the Apoſtle S. Paule, Howe with a loude voyce among other thinges he exhorteth vs from euyl bankettinges and drunkenneſſe, and take beede that ye be not caried away to filthineſse by the glory of names.
Ioy.
Feaſtes doo delyght mee.
Reaſon.
Speake playnely what thou meaneſt, eatings, drinkings, gorginges, gurmandize: If thou be delyghted to receyue theſe thynges, thou art but a baſe debter for a baſe benefite: But if thou haue delight to geue them, then art thou a foole, and a ſlaue to a foolyſh carefulneſſe.
Ioy.
I ſeeke glory by feaſtes.
Reaſon.
It is your faſhion to ſeeke for a thyng, where it is not to be founde.
Ioy.
I hope to win glory by feaſtes.
Reaſon.
It is falſe glory, and a very errour. We reade how Alexander kyng of Macedonie, gaue hymſelfe ouer to feaſting, yea, euen vnto blooddy drunkennes. And ſo dyd Lucius lykewyſe vnto immoderate charges, and the lamentable loſſe of his Empyre. Shew me other ſuch two: what prince canſt thou name vnto me, that is wiſe, or king, that is ſober, and is geuen to ſuch pleaſures? As for the woorthy Philoſophers and Poets, it is needleſſe to ſpeake of them, and much leſſe of the godly men, and generally of all that haue conceyued any great or religious matter in their minde, vnto whom doubtleſſe al this whole caſe is infamous and hateful.
Ioy.
By feaſtyng I haue wonne glory
among the common people, & the fauour of many men.
Reaſon.
A great price for moſt vile ware, to become a Cooke to pleaſe other mens belyes. I ſuppoſe there be ſome whom their ſtomackes doo pinche, and pouertie dooeth brydle, vnto whom nothyng is more acceptable, then to be diſcharged of that brydle by the care and charge of other, and to obteine that by other mens meanes, whiche by their owne they are not able. Thoſe that yeelde them this ſupplie, ſo long they extol and magnifie, as they doo ſo: But if once they leaue of, they themſelues alſo ſhall ſurceaſe to be longer extolled: and thus wyll I alſo ſurceaſe, and this is the ſumme of all. The condition of gheſtes, is to be delicate, and complayning, and very hard to pleaſe. And concernyng Paraſites, learne this ſhort rule: Whyle thou feedeſt them abundantly, they wyll eate, and laugh with thee, they wyll clappe their handes, they wyl commende thee to be a good man, liberall, and call thee a notable member of thy common wealth: They wyl leaue out no one iote of perfect Grecian adulation, whereof the Satyrical poet ſpeakyng, tearmeth it a nation moſt expert in flatterie, and a great deuourer of meate, with other ſuche qualities commonly knowen to boyes. If thou leaue of ſometyme thy liberalitie, they wyll diffame thee to be couetous, wretched, and miſerable. But yf thou do it through want, then they wyl report of thee, that truly thou art a poore man, but there is no harme in thee, ſauing that thou art a foole, and haſt no wit, and they wyl ſhunne thee and thy houſe, as it were a rocke. Then ſhalt thou perceyue that ſaying of Horace to be true: The friendes depart, when once the lees waxe drie in the caſke: where the Poet ſpeaketh of ſuche kynde of freendes. As for true freendes, they ſpecially continue in aduerſitie, and moſt diligently frequent thoſe houſes whiche fortune hath forſaken. Suche follies and difficulties it were beſt to redreſſe in tyme, and to learne to contemne theſe proude gheſtes, theſe dry ſcoffers, with their bablyng and tittletattle, and perſwade thy ſelfe thus: There is no place for vpright iudgement, where al thing is attributed to pleaſure, and nothing to vertue. Finally, this tranſitorie name which is purchaſed by euyll meanes, and this which is commonly called glorie, among learned men is counted infamie, not glorie.
Of Apparrel. and trimming of the bodye. The .xx. Dialogue.
IOY.
BVT I am brauely aparelled.
Reaſon.
Thinges that are pure, doo loue to be ſeene naked: And it is a common faſhion to couer filthie thinges.
Ioy.
I am moſt exquiſitely apparelled.
Reaſon.
Thou mayeſt be aſhamed of thy outwarde trimneſſe, as oft as thou ſhalt thinke what is couered therewith: For it were a frentike part of pryde, to couer dounge with purple.
Ioy.
I am very neately apparrelled.
Reaſon.
Haſt thou not heard what yt moſt valient man in Saluſt ſaith? that neatneſſe belongeth to women, and labour to men.
Ioy.
My apparell is fayre and fine.
Reaſon.
Then is it a banner of pryde, and a neſt of laſciuiouſneſſe.
Ioy.
My clothes are excellent, and care.
Reaſon.
I wyll not ſet agaynſt thee godly poore ſoules halfe naked, and ſtiffe with colde, and ſcarce able to keepe of the winters bitternes, with their ſimple mantles of Rugge. I know well, that ſinfull wealth, diſdaineth holy pouertie. And the ſame moſt rich man alſo, of whom I ſpake yet whyle in our third diſputation before this, vſed conſideratly to weare none other garment then home made, ſuche as was ſpun and wrought by his wife, and his ſiſter, and his daughter, and his nices: For this is alſo written of him, Thus he that was lorde of al, weeried a fewe women, but ſuch as were moſt neare of kin vnto him. And thou perhaps being another mans ſeruant, doeſt weerie nations that are a great way of from thee. For thee the Fleminges ſpinne, for thee they carde, for thee they weaue: for thee the Perſians, the Seres, the Indians do ioyle: for thee the Tyrian Murrey ſwimmeth, or Purple fiſhe: for thee the ſofte grains of Hiſpis hangeth vpon the ſhrubs: for thee the ſheepe of Brytaine looke whyte: for thee the Indian Sandix looketh redde: both Oceans ſweate for thy ſake: but for Auguſtus, only his wife and his daughter, his ſiſter and his nices do take payne. Thus much is vertue decreaſed, & pride increaſed. And ſince men haue délighted in the contrary, the examples of modeſtie are waxed vile. For in diet and apparell many contemning this great & woorthy prince, haue gone after the woorſt, as Caius & the reſidue, whoſe belly & backe were neuer couered with ciuile, nor manlike, nor Romane, nor truly humane, but with mad,
and ſomtyme womaniſhe, at another tyme diuine, ſuperfluous on euery ſyde, and monſtrous attyre.
Ioy.
My garmentes are moſt exquiſite.
Reaſon.
Coſtly apparell, both by ſuſpition of great diligence in trimming and ſettyng foorth the beautie, dimiſheth the grace, and by the bryghtneſſe thereof, bewrayeth the blemiſhes of the deformed, and ſtyrreth vp the eyes of ſuche as paſſe by to beholde it. And therefore, a deformed man or woman, can not hurt them ſelues by any meanes more, then by couetyng to ſeeme fayre and wel fauoured, The gallant apparell, and braue ſettyng foorth of the body, whiche is of purpoſe done to win fame by, prouoketh laughter.
Ioy.
I am decked foorth in moſt choyce colours.
Reaſon.
Nature cannot be ſurpaſſed by art: And many times diſdayning that ſhe is prouoked, by howe much the more greater force ſhe is preſſed and couered, by ſo much the more ſhe riſeth vp and ſheweth her ſelfe. As for the natural deformities of this mortal body, they can neither be altered with colours, nor couered with odors, but they make them either more euident to be ſeene, or more doubtful to be ſuſpected.
Ioy.
I am caried away with the loue of precious & variable attyre.
Reaſon.
Lay a dead carkaſe in a coffin of golde, beſet it rounde about with pearles and cloth of golde, the more thou trimmeſt it, the more horrible and vgly it is. And to the intent thou mayeſt not be offended at that whiche I ſpeake, let vs ſeeke out the originall of that name. For this word carkas, commeth of the Verbe cado, which ſignifieth to fal. Which being ſo, why may not the body of a liuing man be ſo called, aſwel as of a dead? For, the one is alrep
••••••
on, the other ſhal fal, & falleth continually.
Ioy.
I haue
〈◊〉
ſle
•
parel, and made after the new faſhion.
Reaſon.
I haue no time nor place now to lament & deteſt this counterfeiting mockerie of outlandiſh attyre, whiche this preſent frentike age hath brought in among you from the fartheſt partes of the world. But both God & man do vtterly abhor theſe deformed beaſtes in the ſhape of men, whoſe mindes are brutiſh, whoſe ſpeech is the latin tongue, whoſe apparel barbarous & ſtrainge, whoſe heare is brayded & friſled after yt delicacy of women, whoſe maners are hard & vnciuil, after the toughnes of boares: at one ſide, plainly bewraying the filthines of their bodies by the impudencie of their demeanure: on the other
ſide, openly diſcoueryng the lightnes of their mindes, by the wauering of the feathers in their top. But whether the maiſters that are ſo vigilant, or the ſchollers that are ſo apt to learne, deſerue moſt to be hated, it is to be doubted: By whoſe deuiſes thou ſeeſt it is now come to paſſe, that betweene Ieſters and Dukes, betweene honeſt Matrons and Harlottes, there is in ſyght almoſt no difference at all: Neyther doeth this miſchiefe ceaſe, but it dayly increaſeth, and the madneſſe is diuerſly varied.
Of reſte and quietnes. The .xxi. Dialogue.
IOY.
REſt and quietneſſe from labours, are happened vnto mee.
Reaſon.
Two moſt acceptable commodities of mans lyfe, vnleſſe immoderate vſe haue made them moſt grieuous miſchiefes, whiche it hath wrought in many, and hath procured as many plagues to the body, as diſeaſes to the minde: ſwellyng to the one, and ruſt to the other.
Ioy.
I enioy moſt pleaſaunt reſt.
Reaſon.
Say rather that thou doeſt vſe. We can enioy nothing here, but we vſe many thynges: thus ſayth the holſomer doctrine.
Ioy.
This quietneſſe is very pleaſaunt vnto mee.
Reaſon.
It ſkilleth muche what kinde of quietneſſe the ſame is: for there are two kindes of quietneſſe, One is buſie, whiche euen in very reſt is doing ſomwhat, and buſie about honeſt affayres, and this is very ſweete: The other is ſlouthful & idle, and geuen onely to ſluggyſhnes, then which there is nothyng more loathſome, or more lyke to the graue▪ From the firſt
〈◊〉
many tymes ſpring great woorkes, both profitable to the we ſnare
••
glorious to the auctours. From the ſeconde commeth nothyng but inglorious flouth and ſleepines. The fyrſt is meete for Philoſophers: but the ſecond for ſluggardes, and ſuche as are geuen to their belly and ſleepe, where they may eate and ſleepe their fyll without interruption.
Ioy.
I enioy my wiſhed reſt.
Reaſon.
That reſt whiche we muſt enioy, ſhal neuer haue ende. Conſider therefore in what reſt thou take delight.
Ioy.
I haue founde wyſhed reſt.
Reaſon.
Wouldeſt thou ſay reſt, or luſking, or ſleepe? whiche ſome Poetes call the kinſeman, and ſome the image of death: and both very properly.
Ioy.
I ſleepe and take my reſt.
Reaſon.
And many alſo that goe, do reſt in minde,
and many alſo that ſit & lie, are troubled in mind. And ſleepe it ſelfe, which is called the reſt of al liuing thinges, hath it owne ſecret griefes, with many horrible and troubleſome viſions & fantaſies: concerning which, the holy man talking familiarly with God, and being afflicted, maketh his complaynt.
Ioy.
I lye idly in my bed chamber.
Reaſon.
Which of theſe, I pray thee, thinkeſt thou reſted more pleaſantly? eyther Vacia whiche lay ſleeping at his Farme in the countrey, or Scipio fighting againſt his enimies in Africa, and Cato againſt ſerpentes, and Regulus againſt both? For there is neyther quietnes without ioy, neither can there be any ioy without vertue.
Ioy.
My toyles being paſt, I refreſh my ſelfe with pleaſant ſleepe.
Reaſon.
Toyle & laboure are the matters of vertue & glory, who ſo reiecteth theſe, reiecteth them alſo. Contrariwiſe, too muche ſleepe is the matter of vice and infamie, which driueth many, and throweth them headlong into perpetual ſleepe. For it nouriſheth luſt, maketh the body heauie, weakeneth the minde, dulleth the wit, diminiſheth knowledge, extinguiſheth the memorie, and breedeth forgetfulnes. It is not without cauſe, that wakeful and induſtrious perſons are commended: As for the ſleepie, we ſee not them prayſed, but puffed. And therfore as ſome vs tearme ſleepe, death, ſo other cal wakefulneſſe, life. Take heede then, of lyfe and death which thou chooſe. It is beſt to wake, which the wiſe do commend, that the life may be ye longer.
Ioy.
I enioy a long, & vn interrupted ſleepe.
Reaſon.
It is wel, if it be not broken by pinching cares, by couetouſnes, by ambition, by feare, by ſorowe, and by wicked loue: but euyl, if a mans ſleepe be diſtur
•
ed by ſome care of diſhoneſt ſt
•
die. Truely, while the people ſleepe, the prince waketh, & while the armie reſteth, the captaynes be vigilant, which both experience declareth, and Homers Ilias proueth to be true. Vpon noble mindes vigilant cares do depende, but ſuch as are ſober and hotſome. It is credibly reported, that Auguſtus Caeſar, of al Princes the greateſt and beſt, vſed but ſhort ſleepe, and that alſo often interrupted. And thou glorieſt in the contrary.
Ioy.
I ſleepe profoundly.
Reaſon.
So do gluttons, letchers, & wrathful perſons, togeather with bruite beaſtes, but lyuing notwithſtanding: ſl
•
ggiſh perſons, and they that ſleepe, are only compared to the dead: and as touching that part of tyme, that happie
men doo nothyng differ thereby from men in miſerie, thou knoweſt it to be a poſition of Philoſophie. Wherefore, as that part is diligently to be eſchewed, whiche leaueth ſo ſmall a difference of dreames onely betweene men and beaſtes: ſo is the contrary to be purſued, whiche offereth no hardneſſe to them that are willing. For yf in reſpect of a ſimple glory, or ſmall gaine, both Warriours, & Merchauntes, and Mariners, do watch whole nightes abroade in the open ayre, the one among ambuſhmentes of their enimies, the other among the ſurgies and rockes, more fierce then any enimie: art not thou able to watche ſome part of the nyghtes in makyng prayers to God, and among thy bookes, for the true glory, and a large gayne?
Ioy.
Being weerie when I was awake, I haue now wholly geuen my ſelfe to ſleepe.
Reaſon.
Thus it is, yee change not your copie, ye deale in all matters after one maner: and looke what thing God himſelfe, or nature, or any art, hath geuen you for recreation, that ye turne to your owne ſhame and diſcommoditie▪ your drinke to drunkennes, your meate to ſurfeityng, your leyſure to ſleepineſſe, your good health to voluptuouſneſſe, your beautie to laſciuiouſneſſe, your ſtrength to iniuries, your wit to deceitfulneſſe, your knowledge to pride, your eloquence to harmfulneſſe, the brauerie of your houſes, and the apparell of your backes, to pompouſneſſe and vayne oſtentation, your ryches to couetouſneſſe and riot, your wiues and chyldren to feare and perpetual carefulneſſe Goe nowe, be aſtoniſhed, complayne of your fortune, and lament your wickedneſſe: of good thinges ye make euil, & of heauenly giftes, ye make fetters, and ſnares, and chaines for your ſoule.
Ioy.
I am delighted in pleaſaunt ſleepe.
Reaſon.
Not only Kinges, Captaynes, and Princes, Philoſophers, Poetes, & Houſeholders, do watch vp, and riſe in the night, which Ariſtotle ſayeth to be auaylable for health, for good huſbandrie, and philoſophie: but theeues alſo, and pilferers, and whiche is alſo more marueylous, mad men, and louers, whom the remembraunce & deſire they haue to their trulles, doth ſtyrre forwarde: and wylt not thou for the loue of vertue, hate ſleepe, that is freende to vices? and as Horace ſayth excellently, Seeyng theeues ryſe in the nyght to kill true menne, wilt not thou awake to preſerue thy ſelfe? Ye may be aſhamed,
that filthie cauſes can ſo muche preuayle with you, and moſt ſouereine can doo nothyng.
Ioy.
I ſleepe all nyght, and no man troubleth mee.
Reaſon.
Ariſtotle ſeemeth, whiche I haue touched before, in this maner to deuide a mans lyfe, attributing halfe to ſleepe, and halfe to waking. And as touching the one halfe thereof, he ſayth, that a vertuous mans lyfe differeth not from a fooles lyfe: in whiche place, he wyll haue he night to be vnderſtoode for ſleepe, and the day for wakyng. This I confeſſe, is a good and true diuiſion, for it equally deuideth tyme into the partes: But if it be thus taken, that the partes be of equal ſpace, truely there is an other great difference betweene them. For there is no cogitation or diſcourſe more ſharpe, or more deepe, then the nyghtly, no tyme more conuenient for ſtudentes. If he ſay that ſleepe is the one halfe of our tyme, it is a ſtrange ſaying, to come out of the mouth of ſo ſtudious and learned a man. God forbyd that a minde whiche is well inſtructed, and geuen to ſtudie, ſhoulde ſleepe halfe her tyme, ſeeyng to ſome the fourth part, and to voluptuous perſons alſo the thyrde part is ſufficient. I would counſell a man to ryſe in the nyght, in euery part of the yeere. God forbyd, but that they which haue any great exployt in hande, ſleepe both the whole Winter and Summer nyghtes: Howbeit, it is ſufficient perhappes to haue broken it once, and as muche ſleepe as is broken by watching, ſo muche may be quickly ſupplyed, yf neede ſo require, by takyng a nappe after noone. But the houres of the winter nyghters are often to be broken: in them it were expedient to ſyng, to ſtudie, to reade, to write, to thynke, to contemplate, by wit ſome new thing is to be deuiſed, & that which is wonne by ſtudie, is to be repeated in memorie. Hearken alſo to S. Ierome, wryting to Euſtochius: We muſt ryſe,
ſayth he, twice or thrice a nyght, and we muſt meditate on ſome part of Scripture whiche we haue learned without booke: And at length, when your eyes are weerie with this ſtudie, ye muſt eftſoones refreſhe them with ſleepe, and beyng then recomforted with a lytle reſt, they muſt agayne be weeried with exerciſe, leſt that by ſleeping all the night long, and lying ſtyl vpon the pillowe, ye appeare to be as it were buried carkaſes: By the often and coomely ſtyrring of your ſelues, declare that ye are alyue, and geuen to vertue.
Of pleaſaunt ſmelles. The xxii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Am delited with ſweete odours.
Reaſon.
Theſe ſerue eyther for foode, or apparrel, concerning which thou haſt hearde myne opinion.
Ioy.
My ſtudie is vpon ſweete ſmelles.
Reaſon.
Of ſmelles, ſome prouoke the appetite, and ſome wantonneſſe. The deſire of theſe incurreth the note of incontinencie, eſpecially yf it be vehement. Others are deſired for theyr owne ſake. The greedineſſe of them, is not reprooued of diſhoneſtie, but of folly: Whereby it commeth, that the ſmel of womens oyntmentes, and of iunkets, is more diſcommodable then the odour of flowres, or apples. The ſame reaſon is alſo in thoſe pleaſures, whiche are receyued by the eares and eyes. If euer thou haſt applyed thy mynde to the readyng of Heathen writers, thou knoweſt theſe thynges, neyther doo I nowe touch thee, but by notes I bryng thee to remembraunce of the trueth, to the end thou mayeſt ſee, that ſuch kyndes of delyghts are eyther diſhoneſt or lyght.
Ioy.
My ſtudie is vpon ſweete odours.
Reaſon.
I woulde it were vpon good fame, the ſmel whereof is alſo called good, but of euyl fame muche more: and it is more ſtrong then the ſent of any ſpices whyle they are a beatyng, or of brymſtone whyle it is a burnyng. Of theſe ſauours, the mynde iudgeth, and not the noſe.
Ioy.
I am delighted in ſweete ſmelles.
Reaſon.
If thou be led by ſenſe, and ſeeke after pleaſure, as I haue ſayd, it is eyther diſhoneſtie or lyghtneſſe; if for health ſake, it is excuſeable, ſo that meaſure, which is the ſauce of al thinges, be preſent. For a mylde ſmel comforteth a fayntyng ſpirite: but in al thynges that ſaying of Terence is of great force, Nothing to muche. For as in many other thynges, ſo in this alſo there is inſ
••
te varietie of kyndes, not only betweene man and man, but betwene nation and nation. For if the report be true, which great aucthours do not condemne, the people that dwel about the head of Ganges do eate no meate at al, but are nooriſhed only by the ſmel of a wyld apple, whenſoeuer they traueyle abrode, they cary nothyng els with them then that good & holſome fruite: and are ſo impartent of ſtynke, that as the pure ayre nooryſheth
them, ſo an infected ſmel ſtifleth them: A delycate complexion, which ſo lyueth and dyeth. Hence it proceedeth, that euery nation towardes the Eaſt, beyng pampered with the delicacie of the ayre, as they are leſſe careful of meate, ſo haue they leſſe plentie, and are more deſirous of ſweete odours, and from thence forſooth this curioſitie came firſt vnto vs. The Aſſyrians, the Arabians, and Sabei, when they were vanquiſhed by your weapons, ouercame you with theyr odours: which the rough and inuincible ſobrietie of your forefathers reſiſted ſo long, that the fyue hundred threeſcore and fifth yeere, after the foundyng of the Citie of Rome, prouiſion was made by a ſtraight edict of the Cenſores, that no man ſhould bryng ſweete forraigne oyntmentes into the Citie. But not long after, the vices of poſteritie, as the maner is, abrogating the decrees of the Elders, wantonneſſe gate the vpper hande, and crept into the very Senate, which had been the aucthour of that conſtitution.
Ioy.
I am deſyrous to ſmel wel.
Reaſon.
Straunge odours, and the art of perfumyng, and pleaſauntly ſmellyng, is an argument of no natural good ſmel, and a token of ſome ſecrete defectes. In reſpect of which cauſes, not only any honeſt man, but honeſt woman alſo, woulde be loath by ſuch kynde of delicacie, to offend the ſenſes of any valyaunt and good man. Thou remembreſt the ſtorie of a certayne young man, who being annoynted with ſweet oyntmentes, and comming before the Emperour Vaſpatian to geue him thankes for the office which he had beſtowed vpon hym, as he ſtoode before hym, the Emperour perceyuyng the ſmel, and diſdayning at the matter, with ſterne countenance and rough ſpeech: I had rather ſayd he, thou hadſt ſmelt of Garlyke. And ſo, wel checked, eyther ſuppreſſing or cancellyng the letters wherein he had graunted hym his good wyll, he ſent hym fruſtrate away with his pleaſaunt odours. Thus, as theſe ſmelles haue been alwayes a ſhame, ſo haue they alſo ſometime ben hurtful, eſpecially where there is ſome graue and vpright Cenſor of manners. Yea, what ſhal I ſay that they haue ben daungerous to ſome? For thou knoweſt alſo, how that Plautius a Senatour in the triumuiral proſcription, for feare of death hydyng hym ſelfe in the Salernitane Dennes, was bewrayed by
the ſmel of his oyntmentes: purchaſyng therby to hym ſelfe deſtruction, and to the proſcribers excuſe of theyr crueltie. For who would not iudge that he was iuſtly ſtayne, who in ſuch troubles of the common wealth▪ and ſo great danger of priuate men, would then trym hym ſelfe with ſweet ſmelling oyntmentes?
Ioy.
I haue accuſtomed my ſelf to artificius odours.
Reaſon.
Leaue them of, yf thou wylt folow my counſayle. It is more ſhameful to frequent the artificius, then the ſymple: For euery diſhoneſt thyng, the more artificius it is, the more dyſhoneſt it is. Art, which is an ornament to honeſtie, is an encreaſe to diſhoneſtie. Hereunto adde moreouer, that it is now growne vnto far more exceſſe than in olde tyme, although that Rome, as I haue ſayd, and Lacedemon alſo, which I had almoſt termed the Grecian Rome. when this infectiō came out of Aſia, reſiſted it with rough manners and ſtreight edictes, as it had ben an armie of wel appoynted enimies. Notwithſtandyng, at length the delicate bande of ſweete oyntmentes, with the legions of vices, gat the vpper hand, and their ſcoutes paſſed ouer into Europe, and there ſubdued moſt valient nations. And becauſe it were ouer long to proſecute euery thyng, by the ſoftned
〈◊〉
•••
ſſe of one moſt rough and payneful man, thou mayeſt co
••
〈…〉
•
he reſidue. For
〈…〉
the very thickeſt and heat of
〈…〉
inuincible and bar
•••••
Hannibal was annoynted, with his armie: oyntmentes
〈◊〉
pearcing,
〈…〉
near
•
ing. And therefore, of this
••••
minate ca
••
••
yne and his
〈…〉
•
hoſe beginninges were wonderful,
〈…〉
was the ende, as he
•
ell deſerued. Whereby it
〈◊〉
•
hee p
•••
e, that where alway▪ ye haue ben much bounde
•••
e vertues
•
f Scipio Africane ye are ſomewhat alſo beholden to the oint
•••
entes of Hanibal for it had ben good for them they had ben dry, as it was beſt for
••
u that they were annoynted, This cuſtom
•
preuayled ſo ma
••
••
andred yeeres after, that it were a payne, and alſo would aſtonyſh a man, to reade what is
〈◊〉
concernyng this matter, both by Greekes and La
••••
What ſhal I vſe many woordes? Oyntmentes came vnto
〈…〉
then whom nothing was more high & excellent, namely I
•
SVS Chriſte, which he, that came and put away al
••
ft
••
ſſe and delicacie of the m
•••
, & to ex
•
inguiſh al prouocati
•
as of
pleaſures, ſuffered hym ſelfe to be annoynted withall: veryly not delighted with the pleaſauntneſſe of the odours, but with the affection and teares of the offerer. But now this cuſtome is by litle and litle diminyſhed, that whereas your age is in many thynges inferiour to the glory of your forefathers, yet in this it ſeemeth to extoll it, in that it is not caryed away with the fonde deſire of ſweete oyntmentes: but they that are now delyghted therein, it chaunceth vnto them not by the generall infection of the tyme, but by the ſpecial imperfection of theyr owne mindes.
Ioy.
I am enticed & delyghted with fragrant odours.
Reaſon.
It cannot be otherwyſe, but that thoſe thynges which of nature are delightſome and pleaſaunt, ſhould entice a man, and whyle they be preſent delight hym. It is the ſaying of the wyſe Hebrue: With oyntmentes, and ſundrie odours the hart is refreſhed. Howbeit it ſeemeth to me that in ointments there is not ſo much delyght, as loathſomeneſſe. But admit there were ſo in theſe odours, yet in my iudgment men ſhould rather reſiſt the thynges that be abſent, to
〈…〉
•••
empt, and obliuion, and vſe the thinges that are
••
eſe
•
〈…〉
•••••
ly, neither beſtow any care or trauayle vpon
〈…〉
••••
wne ſecret iudgement thou
•••
feſſe thy
〈…〉
contemptible thynges. And that I may not dra
••
〈…〉
concernyng odo
•••
•••
eing diſhoneſt an
••
〈…〉
al effem
•••
ing mennes mindes to
〈…〉
••
ter I embrace the opin
••
n of S Auguſtine, who ſpeake
••
〈◊〉
of the prouocation of odour
•
〈◊〉
deſire them not, ſayth he
〈…〉
they be abſent I require th
•
〈…〉
if they be preſent I
〈…〉
, being readie alwayes to wa
••
〈◊〉
. Doo thou the
〈…〉
thou neuer ſmel euill of
〈◊〉
odoures, or he od
••••
with harefull cleanlynes.
Of the ſweeten
〈◊〉
of Muſick xxi
•••
Dialogue.
〈◊〉
.
I Am delighted in ſynging
〈◊〉
••
ſtrument.
Reaſon.
Al how muche better were it in teares and ſygninges? It were better to come to ioy
〈…〉
by ioying to teares.
Ioy.
I take pleaſure in ſongs and harmonie.
Reaſon.
Wild beaſtes and foules are deceyued by ſynging, and, which is more ſtraunge, fyſhes alſo are delighted in Muſycke. Thou knoweſt the pretie fable of Arion and the Dolphin, which is holden ſo true, that it is cronicled. Many notable writers haue made mention of that Miracle, but none more gallantly then Herodotus, the father of the Gretian Hiſtorie. Herevnto agree the braſen images whiche are there ſet vp, where the Muſitian firſt arriued on ſhoare ſafely out of ſo great daunger ſittyng vppon the backe of the ſwymmyng fyſhe. Moreouer, it is ſayde, that the Sirenes do decey
•
e by ſynging. This is not beleeued, but founde true by experience, how by flatteryng woordes one man deceyueth another: and to be ſhort, there is nothyng more apt to deceiue, then the voyce.
Ioy.
I am delighted with pleaſant Muſicke.
Reaſon.
The Spider, as they ſay, annoynteth before he byte, and the Phiſition before he ſtrike, the fouler alſo, and a woman
••••
terreth whom they mynde to entice, and a theefe embraſeth whom he wyl kyll, and the Polypus fyr
••
huc
•
•••
h whom he
••
ea
•
teth to drowne. And ſome naughtie pe
••••
are neuer more
•
o be feared, then when they ſh
••••
〈…〉
cur
•••
us in voyce and behauiour▪
〈…〉
ad
••••
ially to
〈…〉
founde in the G
•
lmyo
•
Dom
•••
. Generally, there
•
s ſear
•
e a
•••
〈…〉
Ioy.
I
〈◊〉
, and
〈◊〉
in ſingyng
•
〈◊〉
Re
•••••
:
〈◊〉
heede, for it is
〈◊〉
: So
•••
poſſeſseth the laſt part of ioy: and agayne, the ſpi
••••
ſhalb
••
〈◊〉
•
egore a fall.
Ioy.
I ſing ſweetly.
Reaſon.
Th
••
〈…〉
whether it be thy laſt. The Swan ſyngeth
〈…〉
his death: More haue peryſhed through
〈◊〉
,
〈…〉
and there
•••
alate report, that one who
〈…〉
wont, dy
•
d ſodaynly in the myddes
〈…〉
I am de
•
ighted in ſong and Muſicke.
〈…〉
cauſe▪ Euery day, and houre, and
〈…〉
the G
••••
, whyther it is your
〈…〉
••
ought with
•••
ngyng, and in olde ty
•••
,
〈…〉
•
ecorders, whereof is that verſe of Sta
••••
〈◊〉
: Whoſe cuſtome is, the tender ſoules with Pipes to bring
〈◊〉
. Thou takeſt pleaſ
•
〈◊〉
in both theſe pompes of funerals,
whither thou makeſt haſt (although thou perceiueſt not thy ſelfe to goe) without reſt or intermiſſion.
Ioy.
I loue ſinging.
Reaſon.
To what purpoſe? Doubtleſſe in the myndes of woorthymen eſpecially, there reſteth a moſt mightie muſike, but the effectes are ſundrie, more then a man wyl beleeue. And to omit that which ſerueth not to our purpoſe, ſome it mooueth to vayne mirth, ſome to holy and deuout ioy, ſome many tymes to godlie teares: which varietie of affections, hath drawne great wittes into ſundry opinions. For Athanaſius to auoyde vanities, forbade the vſe of ſinging in Churches. S. Ambroſe ſtudious of godlyneſſe, appoynted that men ſhould ſyng. S. Auguſtine maketh godly mention among his confeſſions, that he aboade both, and that herein he was ſometyme in ſome difficultie of doubt with hym ſelfe.
Ioy.
I delyght to ſyng.
Reaſon.
This hath been a pleaſure vnto many heretofore, and now it is to thee. For in olde tyme, who ſo coulde not ſyng and play vpon inſtrumentes, was counted vnlearned, which iudgement fel vpon Themiſtocles the Athenian, the moſt noble of all the Grecians, for that he refuſed to play vppon an Harpe as he ſate with company at meate. And Cicero reporteth, that Fpaminundas the Thebane, perhaps becauſe he woulde auoyde that ignominie, could play very excellently vppon inſtrumentes. It is ſtraunge, that Socrates beyng ſo graue a Father as he was, would learne to play: and therfore let vs not maruayle though Alcibiadis were by his vncle Periclis ſet to ſchole to learne vpon the Recorder, beyng among them ſo commendable an exerciſe, that they learned the ſame alſo among the lyberal artes. But let vs commend the wyt of a ſhamefaſt Boy, who takyng into his hande the inſtrument of an excellent Muſitian, who of purpoſe was ſent for and hyred to teach hym and puttyng it vnto his mouth, and ſtreynyng his breath,
〈◊〉
by his cheekes began to ſwell, & perceyuyng thereby the detormitie of his countenance, bluſhed, and brake the Pype, and threw it away diſdainfully, deſeruyng ſurely, though but ſmall of yeeres, to be an example, that by the whole conſent of the people the vſe of Recorders and wynd inſtrumentes ſhould haue ben banyſhed the Citie of Athens. This ardent deſyre of Muſicke, although it be not
yet come ſo far vnto you, as to poſſeſſe the myndes of al Princes, yet hath it inuaded the myndes of ſome, and ſpecially of the worſer ſort. For Caius the Emperour, was very muche geuen to ſyngyng and dauncing. As for Nero, how much he was addicted to the ſtudie of the Cytherne, and what great regard he had of his voyce, it is incredible to be ſpoken. This is one folly in him, and very ridiculus, that the ſame nyght which was the laſt of his lyfe, and the fyrſt to the world, to take breath, as it were, for a litle tyme, among the complayntes which inſtaunt death and preſent feare and ſorow dyd miniſter, this one thyng moſt often and moſt miſerably he bewayled, not that ſo great a Prince, but that ſo great a Muſitian ſhoulde peryſh. I let paſſe others: euen vnto this your age which nowe is preſent, though but here and there, yet there is come ſome delyght of the eare, wherwith to be honeſtly and ſoberly delyghted, is a certayne humanitie, but to be caught, and as it were wedded vnto it, is great vanitie.
Ioy.
I am deceyued with the pleaſure of ſweete notes.
Reaſon.
Oh that thou dyddeſt heare the ſyghes of the godly? Oh that the gronynges and lamentations of the dampned myght enter into thyne eares: And on the other ſyde, the reioycynges of the bleſſed ſoules, and the ſyngyng of Angelles, and that heauenly harmonie which Pithagoras eſtablyſheth, Ariſtotle ouerthroweth, and our Cicero reſtoreth, and godlineſſe and fayth perſwade thee to be there perpetuall, and the moſte ſweete voyce
•
, yf not of the heauens, yet of the heauenly inhabitauntes, wh
••
here without ende doo prayſe the fyrſt and eternall cauſe.
〈◊〉
theſe thynges, I ſay, ſhould enter into thyne eares, how playnely myghteſt thou diſcerne which conſent were the ſweeter, and which the holſomer? But nowe thou committeſt the iudgement of the ſounde to a deaffe ſenſe, concernyng which, perhaps hytherto may ſeeme vnto ſome to be a ſmall matter, notwithſtandyng it hath troubled many excellent men. Neyther was it without cauſe that Plato, a man of a diuine wyt, ſuppoſed that Muſicke apperteyned to the ſtate, and corrections of manners in a common wealth.
Of Daunſing. The .xxiiii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Delyght in dauncing.
Reaſon.
I woulde haue marueyled the more, yf the noiſe of Vyals and Recorders had not pricked thee foorth alſo to dauncing, and after the auntient maner, one vanitie had not folowed another, howbeit a greater, and much more deformed. By ſingyng there is ſome ſweeteneſſe conceyued, which many tymes is profitable, and holy: by dauncing neuer any thyng but laſciuiouſneſſe, and a vayne ſight, hateful to honeſt eyes, and vnmeete for a man.
Ioy.
I deſire much to be at dauncinges.
Reaſon.
The body couereth and diſcouereth the mynde: the caſtyng of the handes, the moouyng of the feete, the rouling of the eies, declare that there is ſome ſuch lyke wantonneſſe in the mynde, whiche is not ſeene. And therfore it behooueth ſuche as are louers of modeſtie, to take heede that they do not ſpeake any wanton thyng: For the hydden affectes of the mynde, and ſecretes of the hart, are many tymes deſcried by ſmall tokens: moouyng, ſyttyng, lying, geſture, laughter, going, ſpeache, al theſe are bewrayers of the mynde.
Ioy.
I receyue great pleaſure in dauncing.
Reaſon.
Oh foolyſhe pleaſure? Imagine that thy ſelfe leadeſt a daunce, or beholdeſt other daunſing, without hearyng any inſtrument, and ſeeſt the foolyſh women, or men more effeminate then women, without any noyſe to turne about, and to daunce forward and backward. I pray thee dydſt thou euer ſee any thyng more abſurde or doatyng? But now the ſound of the inſtrument couereth the vncomely moouyng, that is to ſay, one madneſſe hydeth an other.
Ioy.
I am delyghted in dauncing.
Reaſon.
There is not in dauncyng ſo much a preſent delight, as an hope of pleaſure to come: For it is the forerunner of Venus, to leade about ſelly women that are aſtoniſhed with the ſounde of the inſtrumentes, to court them, to claſpe them, and vnder colour of curteſie to wynne them: there the handes are free, the eyes free, and the ſpeech free, there is noyſe of the feete, the diſſonant voyces of the ſingers, the ſoundyng of the trumpets, the meeting togeather, the duſt, and that which is often added to playes and ſhewes, mght it ſelfe, enimie to honeſtie, & friend to vices: theſe be the things which driue
away feare & ſhame faſtneſſe, theſe are the prouocations of leacherie, theſe are the laxations of libertie. And, that ye ſhall not thinke me to be eaſily deceiued, this is that delight which ſimply, and as it were innocently ye profeſſe by the name of dauncinges, & vnder the couering of paſtime, ye clooke wickedneſſe. And although many times this be done among men only, or women only, they doo then but ſeuerally exerciſe themſelues, & learne what they ſhal do when they meete againe: like as ſchollers do meditate while their maiſter is abſent, what they ſhal ſay when he returneth. Plucke vp by the coote this craftie and wicked ſhewe, take away laſciuiouſneſſe, and thou ſhalt take away dauncinges. Beleeue me, no man wyll daunce before the Lord with King Dauid, leſt peraduenture his wife laugh him to ſkorne, although no man be mocked for dauncing, or wantonly demeaning himſelfe before his Lady.
Ioy.
Dauncing is delectable.
Reaſon.
Thou art iumpe of mine opinion. If it delight, it is in reſpect of ſome other matter, for of it ſelfe it is an abſurd thing, and bringeth more weerineſſe then pleaſure. For, to turne round, what is it other then to procure giddines of the head, and to goe about without ende? Among the local motions whiche Plato reckeneth, to wit theſe, forward, backward, on the right hand, on the left, vpward, dounward, and round about, only the ſeuenth is infinite. And therefore the thinges that are perpetual, that is to ſay, heauen, and the planets, doo continualy obſerue the ſame: and in earth, the madneſſe of men increaſe ably putteth it in practiſe, almoſt in all their actions and deuiſes. Neyther is there any Orpheus to ſtay the Iſionian wheele, but inuiſible dauncinges, where the volubilitie of the mindes, carieth the bodies about with them. And therefore when that which is written may be ſayd of al, then may it moſt properly be verified of theſe: The wicked walke round about. This ſport hath been the cauſe of many ſhamefull deedes. Many times an honeſt Matron hath by meanes hereof, loſt her long preſerued honeſtie. Oftentimes the vnfortunate young virgin hath hereby learned that vppon her wedding day, which ſhe had better neuer had knowen.
Ioy.
I am willing to exerciſe my ſelfe in honeſt dauncing.
Reaſon.
I had rather thou haddeſt chooſen ſome other kinde of exerciſe. But I perceyue whereabout thou goeſt, and what thou meaneſt.
Thou wouldeſt haue this generall reſtreinct taken away, thou wouldeſt haue libertie to be geuen, and an order therein to be preſcribed. Foraſmuche as therefore thou art ſo minded, and ſuche is thy maner and cuſtome, then whiche if it be naught, there is nothing worſe, and if it be good, there is nothing better: let this be a rule vnto thee in al theſe thynges, that ſuche as thou canſt not altogether want, thou vſe them moſt modeſtly and ſeldome. That thou behaue not thy ſelfe ſoftly, nor womanlyke in any matter, but let thy manly rigour ſhewe it ſelfe, yea ſomwhat beyonde it owne boundes: and let thy dauncing, or what other paſtime ſoeuer thou frequent, be a relaxation to the weeried ſpirites, and an exerciſe to the body, and not a pleaſure to effeminate the minde. I woulde gladly abſtayne from examples, for the imitation of excellent men is not ſafe for al to folowe. Euery feathered foule is not able to folow the Eagle. Of imitatours, ſome imitate the contrary, ſome one thyng, and ſome another. Fewe doo fully attaine to the perfection of that whiche they imitate. The younger Cato, when his minde was ouerpreſſed with cares of the Common wealth, was wont to refreſhe hym ſelfe with wine. The lyke did Solon among the Greekes. Now ſome man perhappes deſirous to imitate theſe, wyll alwayes doo one thyng onely whiche they dyd, he wyll drynke: and that whiche they vſed to doo ſeldome tymes, and moderately, this man wyll doo continually, and immoderatly: and that whiche they vſed for a remedie, he wyll abuſe vnto drunkenneſſe. The lyke may be eaſily ſhewed in other thinges alſo: but nowe thou vnderſtandeſt, as well as I, what that is which I feare, with thee. Notwithſtanding, foraſmuch as thou haſt enforced me to vndertake the defence of a condemned matter, I wyl ſet downe vnto thee, the example of a notable perſonage, whiche thou ſhalt not folowe, or not chaunge, whiche I wyll recite vnto thee in theſe woordes, whiche Seneca vſeth in that booke wherein he ſearcheth after the tranquillitie of the minde. Scipio, ſayth he, mooued that ſame his triumphant and martiall body, after the tune and meaſure of inſtrumentes, not wantonly mincing, as it is nowe the maner to ſwim in dauncing, far more effeminately then women, but as the auncient men in fore tyme were wont at playes and feſtiuall tymes to daunce, after a manlyke ſort, which
ſhoulde no way impaire them, if their enimies dyd behold them. By whiche wordes, what he thought then of his owne age, may be perceiued: But he was happie that he ſawe not thyne. And although he doo allowe of ſome large ſcope of dauncing and drinking, ſaying, that ſomtimes it is lawfull for a man to drynke tyll he be drunke, whiche I merueill that ſo preciſe a diſpoſition woulde graunt: yet if thou wylt folowe faythfull counſell, drynke wine ſparyngly, and abſtayne from dauncing. There be other more honeſt kindes of recreation, wherewith thou mayeſt refreſh thy loathſome and weeried minde. But in all thynges this is the beſt counſell whiche he vttered laſt of all, to be circumſpect, and take heede: and whatſoeuer thou doeſt, ſo to doo it, as though thyne enimies behelde and marked thee: It is muche more better to liue in ſuche ſort that thyne enimies may woonder at thine abſtynence and grauitie, then that thy freendes ſhoulde excuſe thy laſciuiouſneſſe. That good fame is more noble, when no man is able to obiect a true crime, and dare not obiect a falſe, then when a fault is obiected, and purged. Perfect vertue maketh the accuſer afeard: but that whiche is but meane, prouoketh hym. And as touching ſobrietie, I had rather thou were lyke Caeſar, whom his very enimies can not denie but that he was a man of lytle wine, as Suetonius writeth, then lyke Cato: I meane not the auncient Cato Cenſorius, of whoſe ſobrietie we haue ſpoken before, but the latter, whom Seneca in this ſort defendeth for drunkenneſſe obiected agaynſt him, that Catoes lyfe was ſuch, that a man may better obiect an honeſt crime agaynſt hym, then a diſhoneſt▪ But concernyng that whereof nowe we entreat, I had rather thou ſhouldeſt not daunce at all, then to daunce as Scipio dyd. But yf thy mynde force thee vnto that whiche I woulde not haue th
••
doo, I woulde wyſhe thee to imitate theſe captaynes, that yf that ſayeing of the Lyrike Poet haue fully perſwaded thee: At one tyme we muſt drynke, and at another daunce: Drynke wine ſo as Cato dranke, and daunce ſo as Scipio daunced.
Of playing with the Ball. The .xxv. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Am delighted alſo with playing at the Ball.
Reaſon.
Loe, there is another foolyſh occaſion of crying, and leapyng.
Ioy.
I am deſirous to play at the ball.
Reaſon.
It ſeemeth that ye hate reſt, ye ſeeke toyle & labour euery way, which I would they were comely. For if this play be vndertaken for exerciſe ſake, which, I pray you is better, for a man to weerie himſelfe with a furious throwing and ſtriking, wherein nothing can be kept in the minde, or els with moderate walking, wherein is both profitable moouing of the body, and honeſt ſtirring of the minde? Whiche maner, certaine of the Philoſophers did make ſo proper to themſelues, that the moſt famous ſect tooke name thereof Haddeſt thou rather folowe Dionyſius of Syracuſe, then Ariſtotle of Stagyrite? Foraſmuche as we haue heard that the Philoſopher vſed to take delight in ſtudious walking, and the Tyrant in this troubleſome game: howbeit I wil not deny, but that modeſt mindes haue ſometime been delighted with this pleaſure: For Quintus Mutius Scaenola, the Southſayer, coulde play very cunningly at it, and Auguſtus the Emperour, after that he had ended the ciuile warres, from exerciſes of the feelde, betooke hym ſelfe to the bal: & alſo Marcus Aurelius Antomu
•
, as it is written of him, played very wel at tenniſe. Notwithſtanding, although the firſt of theſe were very well ſeene in the lawe, both of God and man, and the other alſo were learned, and both were good princes, yet doo I not lyke any thyng the better of this haſtie and clamorous game. For al vehement motion, ſpecially if it be ioyned with outerie and clamour, is vnſitting for an honeſt wit.
Of playing at Dice and Lottes. The xxvi. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Am delighted with playing at dice and lottes
Reaſon.
In the one of theſe games is loſſe, in the other folly: yet it is reported yt
Scenola frequented them both, & that which is yet higher, that
Auguſtus the Emperour vſed the one. Yet notwithſtanding, that this firſt choſe theſe to be a recreation to hym ſelfe from the ceremonies of the Goddes, & the lawes of men, in the knowledge whereof he excelled, and Auguſtus from the cares of his great Empire, which he gouerned long and wel, now and then to refreſh himſelfe from his ioyle: I wyl not commend the like in thee. For great and learned men haue certaine ſtrange & peculier appetites, which if thou imitate aſwel in maners as in doctrine, thou mayſt ſone fal: for al things are not worthy to be praiſed, which are prayſed.
Ioy.
I take pleaſure in playing at Tables.
Reaſon.
Who would not be delighted to throw forth a couple or more of ſquared bones, with certaine numbers marked vpon euery ſide, and looke whiche way they runne, that way to direct the fingers, to place the round Tablemen in order? A glorious exerciſe, which is lyke to deſerue a famous name, with a triumphant chariot, & renoumed dayes.
Ioy.
I delight moreouer to play at Lottes.
Reaſon.
O chyldiſhe deſyre, O loſt tyme, O ſuperfluous cares, O moſt vayne outcries: foolyſhe ioyes, ridiculus anger, for olde doating men to ſtande gaping ouer a payre of tables, and a fewe rouling peeces of wood, by ſtealth robbing and falling in: whereof that game was in olde time called Ludus latruncularis, whereat there was an Ape that plaied, as Plinie writeth. Doeſt thou maruel at it? Why, it is a peculier play for an Ape, to geather togeather the ſtones, counters, or tablemen, and to caſt them abroade, to throwe them agaynſt the wall, haſtely to caſt foorth the handes and to plucke them in againe, to inſult ouer his aduerſarie, to threaten him with grinning teeth, to be angry, to contende, to chafe, and ſometime, as Horace ſayth, to ſcrath the head, to gnaw the nayles, and briefely to doo al thing that may prouoke the lookers on to laughter. And doo ye omit any one of theſe? or in your gaming let paſſe any one kinde of madneſſe? Are ye not in ſuche wyſe tormented and vexed, as though the good eſtate of your ſelues, or of the commonwealth were in hazarde? There be many, I ſuppoſe, which might haue ouercome their enimies in battayle, yf they had ben as diligent to furniſh their ſouldiours in the fielde, as they haue been no place their Boxen or Iuorie table men in order. Scarſe ſhall you fynde any man more earneſtly bent to any
thyng, then to this foolyſh practiſe. But this is a generall rule in the kingdome of ſollie, that looke what thing is leaſt profitable, thereof is conceiued moſt delight and pleaſure.
Ioy.
I am delighted with dice playing.
Reaſon.
If thou wylt be ruled by counſell, I wyll tell thee of an honeſt and woorthy kynde of diceplay, whiche in olde time was frequented by learned men in Athens: that vpon holydayes, when a company of freendes were mette togeather, euery man ſhoulde alleage ſomwhat concerning learning, not ſome ambiguous Sophiſme, but ſome ſubſtantiall matter, according to the diſcretion of the alleager, apparteining to vertue, and honeſt lyuing. Now, when they had conferred vpon theſe matters without enuie or anger, they whiche by the iudgement of the beſt learned ſeemed to be ouercome, were amerſed of ſome ſmal peece of money. Let the ſame money be conuerted to Philoſophical ſuppers: And ſo it ſhall miniſter ſufficient prouiſion for the charge, exerciſe to your ſtudie, and a ſpur to your wittes, whiche ſhal aſwell prouoke the conquerours, as the conquered. With this kinde of dice play, wherewith our forefathers were wont to furniſhe their Saturnalia, furnyſhe you your godly holydayes, and wherewith they were wont to paſſe their Athenian nightes, paſſe you alſo your Romane nyghtes. Thus haſt thou a game whereat thou mayeſt wyllingly play, and ſhalt not be aſhamed to haue played at it.
Of proſperous playing at Tables. The .xxvii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue a deſire alſo to play at tables.
Reaſon.
O wide gaping whirle podle, that can not be filled: O ſorowful and ſuddaine flitting of the patrimonte? O tempeſt of the minde, and cloud to fame, and prouocation to wickedneſſe, and way to deſperation. Thoſe whereof we haue ſpoken before, deſerue indifferently to be called games, but this is a mere ſorowe.
Ioy.
But I haue had proſperous ſucceſſe at this play.
Reaſon.
There is no good luck at tables, al is euyl, & miſerable: For both he that leeſeth is greeued, and he that winneth is inticed & drawne into daunger.
Ioy.
I haue played fortunately.
Reaſon.
Preſe
•
t proſperitie hath oftentimes been the aboving of future calamitie, and this plague hath it owne proper prouocations. If al that play at tables ſhould
loſe, no man woulde play: but ſome doo win, howbeit thoſe winninges are the forerunners of loſſe.
Ioy.
I haue played & won.
Reaſon.
It is well, if thou returne not againe into the feelde: otherwiſe there is no feelde more playne, nor fortune in any feelde more inconſtant.
Ioy.
I haue played and won.
Reaſon.
Thou ſhalt play againe, & loſe. That which thou winneſt, a thouſand wyl plucke from thee on euery ſide: & that which thou loſeſt, none wyl reſtore. Adde this moreouer, that if there were any iuſtice, that which thou winneſt is not thine, & that which thou loſeſt, although it be not another mans, yet it ceaſeth to be thine. Finally, there be diuers cauſes whiche may dehort and plucke backe a good minde from this madnes, vnleſſe a certaine headdineſſe, pricked forward with couetouſneſſe, vrged ye thereunto.
Ioy.
I haue won at tables.
Reaſon.
Vnderſtande that thou haſt receyued an hundred times vzurie of an impious banker: thou muſt therefore reſtore that whiche thou haſt won, and ad therevnto ſomwhat of thyne owne, whiche cannot be demaunded againe, and is of it ſelfe conſumed, and thou haſt left of to be fortunate in thy ſleepe.
Ioy.
I haue won, and thereby am the richer.
Reaſon.
All money is vnſtable, and by reaſon of the roundneſſe thereof, it runneth away: but there is nothingmore vnſtable then the money that is gotten at tables. Table playing geueth nothyng to any man, ſpecially that plye it diligently, but many tymes they borowe one of another, or it wreſteth ſomwhat from them, and is the more cruell, the more flatteryng that it ſeemeth. For there is no loſſe more greeuous, then is to hym that hath begunne to taſte the ſweeteneſſe of gayne.
Ioy.
I haue played, and gayned.
Reaſon.
To reioyce for winning at tables, is euen as a man ſhoulde reioyce at ſweete poyſon: For both anone wyll breake out at the beynes.
Ioy.
I take pleaſure in my proſperous play.
Reaſon.
Delyghtyng in ſinne, is woorſe then ſinne it ſelfe. There be ſome that ſinne, prouoked thereto by meanes of an euyll cuſtome, who reioyce not after they haue ſinned, but are ſorie, and yf it coulde be, would rather they had not ſinned. And ſome we haue ſeene, who among the ſcorching flames of luſt, haue fealt a colde yeineſſe of ſorowe and repentaunce, and yf a man may ſo tearme it,
a wyll and a nyll at one inſtant, although they haue been borne away to the worſe by force of ſome cuſtome, whom we may not neuertheleſſe vtterly condemne, but by muche practice they may be brought to better ſtate: but as for thoſe that reioyce in wickedneſſe, what hope, I pray you, ſhall a man haue of them?
Ioy.
I am delyghted in playing at tables.
Reaſon.
I hope thou wylt not be ſo ſtyll, or long delighted: the ſtate of cities is euery day altered, & doeſt thou thinke that the fortune at tables is permanent? Beleeue mee it wyll turne, and conuert thy ioy into teares. I doo not meane that they wyll turne, as thou haſt ſeene them, and as they haue doone to thyne aduantage and vayne ioy: but they wyll ſo turne, that it ſhalbe to thy very teares and ſorowe.
Ioy.
I take pleaſure in playing.
Reaſon.
A deteſtable and deſperate delyght, and whiche proceedeth from a fylthie and corrupt minde: and thou deſeruelt therefore to be chydden and rated. For what Gentleman, or what man, that is not rather a ſauage beaſt, wyl be delyghted with the name of a game, whiche is full of wickedneſſe, and moſt filthie impietie? Where there is nothyng manly beſides the mens faces, and their countenaunces, diſtract betweene anger and ſorowe, and outragiouſly confuſed with outcryes, more then is ſitting for men: where there is no cumlyneſſe in behauiour, nor modeſtie in woordes, no loue towardes men, no reuerence towardes God, but chydyng, raylyng, deceipt, periurie, and rauine, and in the ende, bloodſhedde and murder. Humane raſhneſſe can deuiſe nothyng more cruell agaynſt GOD, then the blaſpheming of his holy name, wherewith aboue al the forgeries of miſchiefe, that game aboundeth▪ Where, if any perhaps holde theyr peace for ſhamefaſtneſſe, yet with their often lookyng vp, what they ſpeake with the lyppes of their hart, them ſelues doo knowe. What honeſt man can, I ſay not play at, but with his eyes beholde this game, and is not greeued and driuen away with the loathſomeneſſe of ſo wicked a ſyght?
Ioy.
Notwithſtandyng, I am delighted with this game.
Reaſon.
Take heede that the Cretaine curſe fall not vppon thy head, to be delyghted in euyll cuſtome, then whiche nothyng is more lyght to be ſpoken, nothyng more greeuous to happen, and nothyng more neare to deſtruction.
Ioy.
I
am delyghted with playing at Tables.
Reaſon.
Diſhoneſt delyght is to be abiected, yf not for vertue ſake, yet for regarde of thyne eſtimation, and care of thy honeſtie: For thou ſhalt not fynde any thyng among the actions of men, wherein theyr manners and vices are more playnely ſet open. Thou haſt ſeene ſome ſet downe to play, that haue trembled, and prayed moſte earneſtly, and called vppon the chaunce whiche they would haue: and others, who otherwyſe were couragious and vpryght of mynde, at this game, for a litle money, to pray, to be angry, and in fine, to be furious. What, and howe many thynges haue certayne valyaunt men doone at game for a ſmall ſumme of money, whiche in an other place they would not haue doone for a great treaſure? There is the kyngdome of al vices, but eſpecially of wrath and couetouſneſſe. Thou remembreſt, howe Ouid in the ſame booke where in he teacheth the diſhoneſt and ſuperfluous art of loue, yet ſometyme intermyngleth ſome profitable matter: He admonyſheth the women louers, that to conceale the vyces of theyr mynd, they abſteyne from this, and ſuch lyke games, leaſt beyng ſeene either ſwellyng with anger, or greedy with couetouſneſſe, they diſpleaſe theyr louers. How muche better were it for this commaundement to be geuen to men, that they offende not onely the eyes of men, but alſo of GOD that ſeeth all, and loueth good myndes and curteous manners?
Ioy.
I haue played, I haue woon, and am glad.
Reaſon.
A fylthy game, and hurtful victorie, a vayne pleaſure.
Ioy.
I haue wonne, and am glad.
Reaſon.
All reioycyng in a mans owne euyl, is foolyſhe: And therefore it was ſome Helhounde that fyrſt deuyſed this game, the vnſkylfull whereof are ſubiect to mockes, and loſſe: and the ſkylful, to woonder and aſtonyſhment. For what is more marueylous, then that whiche is commonly ſpoken in the olde prouerbe, and is vulgarely founde to be true by experience? That al the great players and mayſters of this game, are naked, bare, and poore.
Of Ieſters. The xxviii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Take delyght in the paſtyme of Ieſters.
Reaſon.
The delyght of Muſycall Harmonie is more noble, which is procured by a certayne lyberall art: as for this, it is ful of vanitie and impudency.
Ioy.
I take pleaſure in Ieſters.
Reaſon.
I had rather thou tookeſt pleaſure in poore folke, in humble friendes, and in carefulneſſe.
Ioy.
Ieſters doo make me laugh.
Reaſon.
And what dooeſt thou make them doo? Howe many tymes haue Ieſters mocked theyr maiſters that laughed at them? How oftentymes wonderyng at the follie of thoſe that wonder at them, haue they feygned ſome other matter, whereby they falſly delyght them, & truely delight themſelues.
Ioy.
I haue learned Ieſters.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt thoſe that thou mayeſt laugh at, & that wyllaugh and gyrde at thee. An auntient plague among the ryche, which beginnyng among the Hetruſcanes, grewe ſo great at Rome. and came to ſuch boldneſſe, that Eſope left a woonderful and very great patrimonie vnto his ſonne whiche he had gotten thereby: and Roſcius geathered this diſtracted and vagraunt practiſe into an art, wrytyng a booke of the Art of ieſtyng▪ wherein he was not aſhamed to compare it to Oratorie, and to matche hym ſelfe with Tullie: and that for this cauſe, for that thoſe ſundrie affections and ſecrete conceyuynges of the mynd, whiche Cicero was wont in eloquent ſpeache diuerſly to pronounce, he could alſo expreſſe the very ſame after another faſhion, but to lyke effect, by apt ieſtures. And truely he was very cunnyng, neyther doo I knowe what were ſo harde or ſorowful, whiche he coulde not eaſyly haue mollified: I ſpeake not howe by meanes of his wyt he purchaſed the friendſhyp of the moſt curteous & gentle Cicero, and was founde woorthie for whom ſo great an Oratour ſhoulde pleade, and of whom he ſhoulde leaue a woorke to the remembraunce of poſteritie: but that he qualified the cruel and proude mynd of Sylla, and by hym that deſpiſed al men, beyng receyued into fauour, was rewarded with a ryng of golde: who alſo as often
as hym lyſted, coulde prouoke to myrth and laughter ſo many graue and ſeuere fathers, and that Senate by whiche the whole worlde was gouerned: Who enticed the people of Rome, beyng ſo great and ſo many, to geue to hym, aboue a dayly ſtipende out of the common treaſurie of an hundred pence, beſides his ſeruautes and aſſiſtantes. A great rewarde, although it were payde in ſinal money: and I cannot deny but that theſe thynges were handled by hym with wonderful and rare agilitie of mynde, ſo that if there were a Roſcius any where to be found, perhaps it is not denyed to thee which was lawfull for Cicero, not only to vſe his paſtime otherwhiles, but alſo his wit and familiaritie. For there is great agreement of wittes one with an other, although they differ in ſtudie and profeſſion. But where we ſeeke hym, many notable artes haue in ſhort proceſſe of tyme peryſhed, not onely the arte of Ieſting, whiche is now come to this paſſe, that it is certayne that they which now folow it, are of a corrupt ſenſe and falſe iudgement. And truely hereof it foloweth, that they to whom euyl thynges ſeeme good, good thynges are vnknowne: and that they are vnaccuſtomed to noble cares, that are delyghted with vyle.
Ioy.
Many ieſters do frequent me dayly.
Reaſon.
They wyl leaue to frequent thee, when thou ſhalt leaue to be ryche and liberal, I ſhoulde rather ſay, foolyſhe and prodigall.
Ioy.
I haue a great troupe of ioſters.
Reaſon.
Thou mayeſt rather ſay of Flyes, which folowe thee whyle thou art annoynted, and when thou art drye, wyl forſake thee: and it is not ſufficient that they doo forſake thee, but that lyke infamie wyl folow this farewel. There be ſome tongues to whom reſt and quietneſſe is a punyſhment, they haue no delyght but to talke of other folke, eyther in falſly prayſyng them, or bitterly ſlaunderyng them: and looke whoſe wealth they cannot byte, they gnaw his fame. This is one generall lawe among ieſters and Paraſites, that they be both ſorts of them armed with ſlatteries, and folow fortune: For the one ſort, it is ſufficient to fyl theyr bellies, the other ſort hath another hunger, vnto whom it is an iniurie to make mention of meate, whoſe greedineſſe muſt be fylled, whiche hath no bottome.
Of the games of VVreſtlyng. The xxix. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Am delighted with the games of wreſtlyng.
Reaſon.
If to be a looker on, thou art a foole, yf to wreſtle, thou art mad.
Ioy.
I vſe to exerciſe wreſtlyng.
Reaſon.
By euery one of thy woordes, it appeareth vnto what maiſter thou art a ſlaue. For theſe, aſwell as the abouenamed, doo belong to the body, and as I haue admoniſhed a litle before, there be thyngs that may be doone more honeſtly without force and noyce. And there is alſo a more excellent mouing of the mynde, which if thou kneweſt, thou wouldeſt contemne and hate theſe bodyly endeuours. But you eſteeme of your mynde, as a degenerate and hateful gheſt: and of your bodyes, as ſome great and dearely beloued lorde: for him you plowe, for hym you ſowe, for hym you mowe. Truely in ſo doing ye do well: but in this ye deale vniuſtly, in that ye referre al thynges to the body: and not regarding the mynde, for this ye ſpende whole nightes in wakefulneſſe, for this ye ſigh, for this ye vowe, for this ye learne good artes, this ye obey and ſerue, of al other a moſt ſumptuous and vnthankful maiſter, to whom neyther any thyng is ſufficient, and if perhaps it want ſomwhat at any tyme, it neuer is mindful of a benefite receiued, and yet notwithſtandyng ye obey whatſoeuer this maiſter commaundeth, and ſufferyng the mynd to hunger, for this you do not only prouyde neceſſaries, but alſo ſuperfluous thynges in eche reſpect, and ſuche as wyll hurt: and not only ſuche thynges as apparteyne to foode and apparrel, whereof we haue ſpoken in theyr proper places, but alſo to games, and ſundrie luſtes, not perceyuyng how much the trueth is agaynſt your deuiſes, which ſpeaketh by the mouth of the moſt eloquent Cicero: whereby it appeareth, that he whiche neglecteth the body, neglecteth not hym ſelfe, but his frayle and tranſitorie houſe: but he that regardeth not his minde, truely regardeth not hym ſelfe. For be ſayth not, Thou art he whom this outwarde ſhape declareth, but euery mans mynde is hym ſelfe, and not this fourme whiche may be poynted vnto by the fynger.
Ioy.
I am delyghted with the
exercyſe of wreſtlyng.
Reaſon.
The heate of Charrettes, the noyſe of horſes, & the guydyng of the ſcorching wheeles through narrow ſtraightes vnhurt, the crye of the wreſtlers, and theyr throngyng togeather, the oyle, the ſweate, and the woonderful duſt, is a great token of the dulneſſe of the ſenſes, whether it be the pleaſure of the eyes, or noſe, or eares, that is thereby conceyued: Whiche yf it were ſounde and perfect, not theſe places of outcryes and tumultes, whiche they tearme places of wreſtlyng and exercyſe, but rather the diligent obſeruation of this place of exerciſe and toyle, whiche they that are borne doo enter into, whiche they that lyue doo treade and trample continually, from whence they that dye doo depart, ſhoulde delyght thee, beyng a more profitable and honeſt pleaſure.
Ioy.
I am geuen to the ſtudie of wreſtlyng.
Reaſon.
This was not the leaſt glory among our forefathers in olde tyme, but ſo great, that vnto Diagoras Rhodi
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s, who was alſo hym ſelfe a famous wreſtler, when he ſawe two of his ſonnes in one day rewarded with wreſtlyng victories, as though there remayned nothyng more noble in this life wherunto he might aſpyre, another ancient man of Lacedemon, a friend of his, ſayd, Now dye Diagoras, for thou ſhalt not aſcend vp into heauen. He accompted it ſo great and hygh a matter for three of one familie at one tyme to be tryed wreſtlers. Truely a very ſmall and lyght Grecian eſtimation of true prayſe, but ſo common, that it troubled alſo great wittes. For Plato, beyng ſo great a Philoſopher as he was, was famous for his deedes at Olympus, and in that practiſe knowne by many euentes, but this was whyle he was a young man. The valiauntneſſe of his courage, from whence ſome thynke that Platoes name was deryued, the ſtrength of his body, and the heate of his yeeres, mooued his youthly mind to the tryall of his ſtrength, wherein he was equall with the beſt: but in proceſſe of tyme, conſyderyng what he had done, he betooke hym ſelfe to that whiche was better, and choſe rather to belyk
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Socrates, then Milo. And truely great age accuſeth: Youth is eaſyly forgeuen: there is no excuſe to a man of his folly.
Ioy.
The ſtudie of wreſtlyng delyghteth me.
Reaſon.
In this game the vyleſt perſon ſometime
hath the victorie, and the vertue of the mynde is vanquyſhed by the hugyneſſe of the bodie. What Duke or noble man canſt thou name vnto me, whiche Milo coulde not ouercome, who woulde run a Furlong with a lyue Bul vpon his ſhoulders, and kylling hym with a ſtroake of his bare fyſt, ſtucke not to eate hym whole in one day? A ſtraunge matter, but commonly written by Hiſtoriographers. Who therefore ſhal meete with this felowe to matche hym in his kingdome of Cheualrie? Veryly, there is nothyng more ſhameful then to beholde noble ſpirites to be ouercome with ſuch a beaſt: and therfore let valiant mindes whiche truſt wel to themſelues, haue a ſpecial regard that they enter not into ſuch exerciſe where they may be conquered by the moſt cowardes: But if thou take pleaſure in contention, enter that conflict wherein he that ouercommeth is the better man, not of the ſtrength of the bodie, or of any other matter, wherein one may be both the worſt and the conquerer. Striue not therefore for riches, nor for dignitie, nor for power, but for vertue and knowledge: and not to the ende thou detract from any mans good name, but that the emulation of another mans prayſe may be a prouocation vnto thee towardes glory: let there be no iotte at al of enuie, but of vertue. Here haſt thou an example of the younger Cato, of whom Saluſt writyng: He ſtriued not, ſayth he, neither with the riche for ryehes, neyther with the factious for faction, but with the valiaunt for vertue, and with the ſhamefaſt for honeſtie, and with the innocent for abſtinence. This is the moſt honeſt kynde of contentious exerciſe, not only to be kept at Olimpus, but in euery place: no leſſe in the bedchaumber, then in the iudiciall Court: and no leſſe in leaſure, then in buſineſſe: and no leſſe with them that are preſent, then them that be abſent: and with al noble myndes of al ages, and of all countreys. I haue alwayes iudged that ſaying of Scipio in Liuie to be notable and princely: I am perſwaded, ſayth he, that this cogitation is in the mynde of euery noble perſonage, to compare hym ſelfe not only to renowmed men whiche nowe lyue, but that haue lyued in all ages. And thou lykewyſe, yf there be any among the troupes that be preſent, whiche I ſcarce can hope, or among al the memorie of antiquitie, chooſe ſome matche vnto thy ſelfe, with
whom thou mayeſt contende, not with armes and Cuggels, but with wyſedome and vertue, without feare of daunger, but in hope of an immarceſſible crowne. This is my counſayle and opinion concerning the wreſtlyng exerciſe.
Of ſundrie Spectacles and Shewes. The .xxx. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Am delyghted with ſundrie Shewes.
Reaſon.
Perhaps with the Curteine or Theater: which two places are well knowen to be enimies to good manners: for looke who goeth thyther euyl, returneth worſe. For that iourney is vnknowen to the good, whiche yf any vndertake vppon ignorannce, he can not chooſe but be defyled.
Ioy.
I am delyghted with the playes, and the pryſes of Fence.
Reaſon.
Other dilightes haue ſome part eyther of vanitie, or of ſenſualitie, and this hath both, beſydes crueltie, and inhumanitie, vnwoorthy of good mindes, neyther is it any excuſe for vs, that in foretyme the Romanes whiche were the flowre of men were delyghted in theſe: for in vpright iudgement, that ſame Citie which moſt abounded with good and noble examples, had nothyng in it more to be reprooued, or deformed, then the reſidue, ſauyng at one ſide the troubles of ciuile warres, on the other ſyde, the immoderate ſtudie of playes: as though the great bloodſhed at home in the warres, were not ſufficient, vnleſſe the peace alſo were blooddy, and the pleaſures blooddy: vnleſſe perhaps ſome man wyl ſay, that the Theater were more honeſt, wherein thou mayeſt ſee not only the people gaping, but alſo the Senate, and the Emperours of Rome, the Lordes of al the worlde. In lyke ſort were they alſo delyghted in ſpectacles, who were made ſpectacles to mankynde. I wyl tel thee a ſtraunge matter, but wel knowen and common. That ſame rage and folly of frequenting the Theater, ſo inuaded the myndes of al men, that it brought abroade into common aſſemblies, not onely the wyues and daughters of the Emperours, but alſo the Virgyns veſtale, whoſe chaſtitie was ſuche, as nothyng was more perfect,
nothyng more tender then fame, nothyng more reuerent to be preſerued, in ſo muche that in them al motion, all trymming, al wanton talke was reprehended and pu
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yſhed: and yet we reade that there was a place appoynted for theſe in the Theatre, not by euery one, but by the good and great Prince Auguſtus Caeſar, Notwithſtanding the errour wherein great men are ouerſeene is not therefore the leſſe, but rather the greater, and more conſpicable.
Ioy.
I am very willing to ſee playes.
Reaſon.
A thyng whiche is neyther honeſtly playde, nor honeſtly behelde, neyther eaſily to be ſpoken whether the player or the looker on be more infamous, or whether the Scene be more diſhoneſt, or the ſeueral place for the Senatours, ſauyng that pouertie many tymes draweth men to the one, and vanitie alwayes plucketh them to the other. For in euery offence, it ſkylleth muche whether a man offende through pouertie, laſciuiouſneſſe, or pryde.
Ioy.
I am delyghted with the ſyghtes of the Amphitheater.
Reaſon.
A very hurtful delyght euery way, aſwel publique as priuate, whiche thou mayeſt eaſyly geather yf thou call vnto mynde out of the ſtories the begynnyng hereof, and the encreaſe, with what expences of common charge, and with what care of Princes neare vnto madneſſe, and fynally, with what ſtudie and toyle of the people it was buylded. Truely it is an harde matter to report the manyfolde vanities, and ſuperfluous to repeate ſo many common things, a thouſand couple of Fenſars at once, whiche were not only not ſufficient for the play, but for the fight, with the flockes of Elephantes, and Tigres, and Lions, and Leopardes, and wylde Aſſes, and couragious Horſes, and ſundrie kyndes of ſtraunge beaſtes, ſent from al partes of the world, from their Deſertes, Parkes, and Foreſtes, to ſerue the Romane Theater. Moreouer, that the ſame ſumptuouſneſſe of buyldyng had no patterne, but not lyke to want imitation, Pyllers of Marble brought by Sea and by lande for the vſe of the playes, cunnyngly carued by the great induſtrie of the woorkmen, proudly polyſhed on the toppes, and the braunches glyſteryng with golde. Of whiche madneſſe Scaurus was the chiefe and beginner, he that was Edilis or Maiſter of the woorkes in buyldyng the Stage
of the Theater within the ſpace of a fewe dayes, whiche was reared with a ſmall deale of timber and a fewe roopes, bringing in three hundred and threeſcore ſuche monſtrous pillers, to pleaſe the eyes of the people that reioyced in ſuche toyes: and finiſhed a woorke, as thou knoweſt it is written, the greateſt that euer was made by mans hande, not in reſpect of the temporall continuance thereof, but by euerlaſtyng deſtinie, whereby he deſerued truly to be reported, yt as firſt by a greeuous proſcription he ſent the citizens, ſo afterwarde in his moſt vaine Edileſhip he ſent good maners into baniſhment: as one that was both auctor and example of muche loſſe tyme to the foolyſhe commons, and of many great expenſes to the common wealth. But O ſtrange caſe: ſhortly after, the madneſſe of them that came afterward, ſurpaſſed this outrage: whereby it came to paſſe, that what by the wonderfulneſſe and number of the woorkes, there was nothyng in all the whole world to be wondred at, but Rome. For thou ſeeſt alſo how it is written, that the very bowels of the earth were perced, the
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ntes digged vp, the bidden rockes diſcouered, riuers turned aſide and conue
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ghed away in pipes, the frettyng ſea ſhut in or out with great bankes, toppes of mountaines hanging, & the ſecretes of the ſea ſeatched, and to be breefe, a great and large ſcope of madding left to the poſteritie, and the expec
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ation of your Grandfathers fulfylled in you, to wit, that your laſciuiouſneſſe would neuer leaue ye. And that the miſchiefe myght be the more
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eaped, priuate calamitie was added to publike loſſe: For the people being tyed with the deſire to ſee, and in the meane while forgetting theyr dayly gayne, they neyther let one day eſcape them, neyther perceyued howe armed penurie pinched them by the backe: And thus enterchangably priuate deſtruction, was turned into publique, and publique, into common. Neyther is the loſſe of patrimonie more greeuous then of maners, where luſt is learned, and humanitie forgotten. And therefore what ye ſhoulde hope for by ſhewes from the verie begynnyng, your fyrſt kyng Romulus gaue a preſident, who in them circu
••
ented the rough and ſeuere chaſtitie of the Sabine women. And although the houour of matrimonie couered both the iniuries, vnto howe many ſince that tyme
hath this been a meane, not to mariage, but to whoordome, and wandryng ſenſualitie? To be ſh
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rt, beleeue this one thyng, that we haue ſeene chaſtitie often ouerthrowen by playes, but alwayes aſſaulted. And to ſpeake nothyng of thoſe men who haue proceeded to ſuche outrage of wickedneſſe, that they doo almoſt glory in theyr adulterie: the good name and honeſtie of many women hath there peryſhed, many haue returned home vnchaſt, moe doubted of, and none the honeſter. Moreouer, to the ende there may want no kynde of miſchiefe, what bodyly ſlaughters, not onely of priuate men, but of whole multitudes doo there happen: the effuſe laughing, turned into ſodayne ſorowe, and the dead corpſes caryed out of the Theater, and the troupes of weepers, mingled with the companies of reioycers, doo declare. Thou haſt hearde, howe that the ſame Curio, whiche was ſlayne in the ciuile warre in Africa on Caeſars ſyde, went beyonde Scaurus in witte, whom he coulde not matche in wealth, how he, I ſay, deuiſyng a Theater of wood, but double and hanging, by wonderfull art hung vp a loft aboue ground, that conqueryng people, beyng ouercome with the playes of the nations, and reioycing in their owne perilles, that laughing within, and amazed without, they myght be both laughed at and pitied of the beholders. And do we wonder that he coulde turne the mynde of one great baniſhed perſonage, by laying before hym the hope of an Empyre, who by propoſing ſo light and ſhort pleaſure of the eyes, coulde turne about ſo many thouſande citizens in a moueable ſpectacle? But, ſome man wyll ſay vnto me, there periſhed no body:
••
t there myght haue periſhed, and thouſandes alſo in another place periſhed. And that I may not touch both newe and olde downefalles together, by meanes whereof many haue found both their death, and their graue: vnder Tyberius the Emperour, at a notable ſhewe at the citie Tidena, thou remembreſt how by the fall of the Amphitheater, twentie thouſand men were ſlayne. This is the commoditie and ende that the lookers on doo get.
Ioy.
I beholde ſhewes with great pleaſure.
Reaſon.
Eyther of faygned loue, or true hatred. The fyrſt is not for a man to beholde: the ſeconde not for a reaſonable creature. Who wyll wyllyngly receyue a dagger to his hart? Who wyll
powre more blood vpon an hotte wounde? Who can waxe pale ſooner, then when he ſeeth death? What delyght haue ye to goe to the ſchoole of crueltie? Ye neede no ſcholemaiſters, ye learne euyll too faſt of your ſelues: Ye learne more of your ſelues at home, then is needefull. What if the maiſters of miſchiefe, and the myſtreſſe of errour, the common multitude ſhoulde ioyne vnto this with redy wittes? Many whom nature framed gentle, haue learned crueltie by meanes of ſhewes and ſpectacles. Mans minde, whiche of it ſelfe is prone to vice, is not to be pricked forward, but brydled: yf it be left to it ſelfe, it hardly ſtandeth: yf it be dryuen foorth, it runneth headlong. There commeth in muche euyll at the eares, but muche more at the eyes, by thoſe two open windowes death breaketh into the ſoule: nothyng entreth more effectually into the memorie, then that whiche commeth by ſeeyng: thinges hearde, doo lyghtly paſſe by, the images of thynges which we haue ſeene ſticke faſt in vs, whether we wyl or not: and yet they enter not, vnleſſe we be wylling, but verie ſeldome, and they depart ſoone. Whyther goeſt thou then? What violence caryeth thee a way? To be mery an houre, and alwayes afterwarde to be ſorie? To ſee that once, that thou wylt repent a thouſande tymes
•
hat euer thou ſaweſt it? To ſee a man ſlayne with a weapon, or to be torne by the teeth and nayles of wylde beaſtes, or ſome ſuche other ſyght as may trouble a man that is awake, and terrifie hym when he is a ſleepe: I can not perceyue what pleaſure is in it, or rather, what bitterneſſe and greefe is no: in it: and I can not diſcerne any greater argument of madneſſe in you, then in that bitter ſweeteneſſe and vnpleaſaunt delyght thruſt you dayly forwarde to death, enticyng you by miſerable flatteries, drowned as it were in a Stygian ſleepe. Ye obſerue one order almoſt in al thynges: Whatſoeuer ye deſire, whatſoeuer ye goe about, whatſoeuer ye doo, it is agaynſt you.
Of Horſes. The .xxxi. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Take pleaſure in a nimble Horſe.
Reaſon.
A moſt fierce and vnquiet beaſt, which ſleepeth not, and is neuer ſatiſfied.
Ioy.
I am deſtrous to ryde Horſes.
Reaſon.
It is not muche more daungerous to ſayle vppon the raging Sea, then to ride vpon a fierce prauncer. There is no beaſt more proude toward his maiſter: neyther is this improperly gone for a prouerbe among horſe breakers, That an horſe doeth twice euyll, although be be at one tyme humble, and at another proude: Who beyng of ſuche ſtrength and ſwiftneſſe, wyll ſuffer hym ſelfe for a lytle bile meate to be ſubiect to another, to be tamed, to be hampred, to be haltred, to be linked in chaines, to be brydled, to be ſh
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oed with iron, to haue nayles driuen through his hoofes, to be ſpurred, to beare an armed rider, to abyde ſlauiſhe impriſonment, and fi
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thie ſeruitude? On the other ſyde, as though he were vntamed, he behaueth hymſelfe as yf he were free, and doe
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h euery thyng as yf he were his maiſters enimie: When he ſhoulde runne, he regardeth not the ſpurre: When he ſhoulde ſtay, he taketh the bridle betweene his teeth: When he ſhould ſnort, he is aſleepe: When he ſhoulde lye in ſecrete, he ſnorteth. This is that plyant beaſte whiche ſome tearme truſtie and faythfull, whereof fables doo report ſo many goodly matters, callyng hym commonly a noble, a princely, an excellent, an honourable beaſt, woorthie to be bought at a great price, and kept with great diligence: Nay rather, it is a beaſt whoſe weeriſomneſſe, yf it be compared with his ſeruiceableneſſe, no wyſe man wyll buye hym, no good huſbande wyll feede hym: a beaſt that is impacient, both of reſt and labour, with the one he is proude, with the other he is tyred: with the one a fierce beaſt, with the other a dull iade: at one tyme bolde, at another tyme fearefull: at one tyme flying, at another tyme fallyng: at one tyme ſtartlyng at a flie or a ſhadowe, at another tyme diſpiſing his maiſter, and dyuers wayes drawing hym into daunger. Who can ſufficiently diſcribe his ſtubbernneſſe, the daunger of his teeth, and his heeles, his neighing,
and his impaciencie of his ſitter and rider: For truely looke howe many conditions there be of horſes, ſo many dangers are there of the horſemen.
Ioy.
I haue great delight in horſes.
Reaſon.
I ſhoulde wonder the more at thee, vnleſſe I remembred ſome great men, bent alſo to the lyke ſtudie to to folyſhly. Who hath not heard that Alexander king of Macedonie, erected a tombe for his horſe which he loued, and named a citie after his horſes name? But the coutage and heate of minde wrought no woonderfull thyng in hym whyle he liued. There was more ſtomacke in Auguſtus, although leſſe follie: for he buylded not a tombe for his horſe, but he made a graue, whiche thing notwithſtanding was vnmeete for his wit and grauitie. For whether Iulius Caeſars monſtrous horſe were by him (or any other) conſecrated with a ſtatue of marble before the temple of Venus, it may be doubted. Antonius Verus, who came after in yeeres and glory, but in riches and imperiall name was but litle inferiour, that I may omit to tell what fare, and what furniture he ordeined for his horſe which he loued immoderately, truely he cauſed a ſtatue of gold to be made lyke hym, whyle he was alyue, and when he was dead, a ſepulture to be buylded (that we might be the more greeued at it) in Vaticanum, among ſo many holy bones as were there buried, & to be buried. This is ſcarce credible, but true notwithſtanding. The Poet thinkyng on this, and ſuche lyke thinges, maketh the ſoules of ſuch men to be delighted with horſes in hell. And yet this vanitie is neuer awhit the leſſe, but the greater, whiche is able to allure ſo great mindes vnto it. But that no man ſhall thynke that this was ſome auncient folly only, and not at this day raigning, let him call to minde one dwelling not far of, and not long ſince, who is yet lyuing, and not very olde, and dwelling here in Italy among you, whoſe name it ſhall not be needefull for me to vtter: a man highly in fortunes fauour, and of no ſmall wit and iudgement, a man otherwiſe of great courage and policie, whenſoeuer he hath occaſion to vtter himſelfe, or hath any weightie affaires in hande, who notwithſtanding when his horſe whiche he loued was ſicke, layde him vpon a bed of ſilke, and a golden pillowe vnder his head: and while he hym ſelfe, being bound and not able to ſtirre by appoyntment of his Phiſitions, for the gout,
was gouerned by their orders, neuertheleſſe being either borne in the armes of his ſeruantes, or vpon ſome other horſe, and carying his Phyſitions with hym, he woulde goe viſite his ſicke horſe twice or thrice euery day, and ſorowfully ſighing, woulde ſit by hym, and gently ſtroke him with his hand, and comfort him with fayre ſpeech: To be ſhort, there was no kind of meanes by Phyſicke let paſſe vnaſſayed, and nothing omitted that might relieue his ſicke freend. Perhaps poſteritie wil cal this a tale, howbeit it is true, and knowen among a great people. Thus this noble gentleman, was as carefull for the good health of his horſe, as for his owne, and lamented for his death as he had been his ſonne.
Ioy.
I delight to ride.
Reaſon.
It is profitable ſomtime, and alſo an helpe to ſwiftneſſe, and a remedy for weerineſſe, and a token of nobilitie, to ride vpon a goodly courſer, and to excel al thereſidue, not only by the head, but alſo by the ſhoulders, and to be higher then the other by the whole body. Contrariwiſe, a fierce horſe is moſt troubleſome, & many times hurtful to his maiſter. If thou wouldeſt goe a iourney on foote, thou haſt no power nor ſpace to reſt thee: & therfore thou choſeſt rather to exchang ye duſtines on foote, for the daunger on horſebacke. And for this cauſe, horſes haue deliuered many from the middes of death, and brought ſundry alſo into extremitie of deſtruction, or hurt them with falles, or tumbled vpon them with their bodyes, and ſo killed them. Yea, horſes are not the leaſt ſeede of warre. Take away horſes, thou ſhalt take away forren inuaſions of countreis, and the greateſt part of warlike deſtruction: That as in natural Philoſophie the queſtion is mooued of windes, and of Iulius Caeſar in hiſtories, whether it were better the winde ſhould blowe or not, or that Caeſar were borne or not? The like queſtion may alſo be demaunded concerning horſes, there are ſo many contrarie reaſons on the contrary ſide. And it was not without cauſe, that Theſſalia, which firſt founde out the vſe of horſes, and tamed them, firſt coyned money, of ſiluer and gold, and firſt aſſayed to goe vpon the Sea in a ſhyp, ſeemed to be the ſtore houſe of Mars, and for that alſo not once onely, after ſo many hundred yeeres it was wette with plentie of valient blood.
Ioy.
How much thinkeſt thou, doth our poet delight me, where he deſcribeth the maners, ſpirite, and courage of a noble horſe.
Reaſon.
And doeth not the ſaying of the Hebrue prophete make thee afrayd, where he ſayth: (At thy rebuke, O God of Iacob, haue they fallen aſleepe that got vpon their horſes?) Examine euery poinct, not only that pleaſant, but alſo this rough ſaying.
Of hunting and hauking. The .xxxii. Dialogue.
IOY.
BVT I am delighted in Dogges.
Reaſon.
Now I vnderſtande the delight of a beardles youth, who as Horace ſayth, Delighteth in horſes, and dogges, and the pleaſant greene feeldes. But beware thou be not that which foloweth: Apt to be plucked to vice, and ſharpe to them that tell thee thy fault. A flowe prouider for profite, lauiſhe of money, proud, couetous, and redy to forſake that which thou haſt loued. I feare mee thou art ſuche an one, ſince thou ſetteſt thy pleaſure vpon ſuch tranſitorie delightes.
Ioy.
I am delighted with dogges, and foules.
Reaſon.
This peece of madneſſe was wantyng: is it not ſufficient for thee, to gadde and wander abroade, but meaneſt thou to flye alſo?
Ioy.
Thou mockeſt me, for I meane not to flye, but I am delighted in the foules that flye.
Reaſon.
But they wyll flye away, and contemne thy pleaſure, and not knowe thee, and vnthankfully be deafe when thou calleſt them. What ſhouldeſt thou do that wanteſt feathers, ſeeyng thy pleaſure is winged? Imagine that they returned, the taking of them would be hurtfull: thou wouldeſt cal againe, and forgetting thy more profitable affaires, looſe thy time. Agayne, looking backe, and caſtyng thine eyes vp to the cloudes after thy foolyſhe byrde, perhappes thou wilt weepe, as though there were no neceſſarie woorke to be doone in this lyfe: by reaſon of the pleaſure whiche you fynde by your idleneſſe and ſlouth, ye glorie in that ye are ſlaues to your byrdes. Nature hath geuen you two handes, with the one ye rule the bird, the other you trouble with crooked talentes. So being idle on al ſides, & being come lame with deſire to flie, to ye end ye may not ſeme to do any thing with great noyſe, ye ryſe before day, and ſodeinly run out of the doores, as though the enimies were at the threſhold, & all the day
after, ye run about the pondes and waters, wooddes, and buſhes, filling the ayre with ſundry outcries, and euil fauoured houlinges. And in this paſtime ye ſpende your breath, whiche is meete for ſome greater matter: with whiche ſpirite your forefathers made their enimies afearde in battayle, and in peace mainteyned iuſtice. At nyght when ye come home, as though ye had atchiued ſome great enterprice, yet ſyt within doores, declaryng howe well that byrde flue, and how well this byrde hath endued his meate, how many feathers of the trayne, and how many of the winges are remaning or loſt. Is not this all your ſkyll? is not this your loue? is not this your felicitie? and is not this al whiche ye requite to God your Creatour, to your countrey that bredde you, to your parentes that be gate you, to your freendes that loue you, to wit, your Spathaukes, or your Hernſhawes ſkimming in the ayre, and ſome peece of a torne foule, and ſwet, and duſt, and your nyghtly ſtorie of your loſt day? Vnto this ye be alwayes valient and vnweeried, and vnto earneſt buſineſſe, weake and daintie. Liuies ſtories, and Tullies orations, and the holy Scriptures, ye condenme as ouerlong: whereof ye may be aſhamed. Who can heare this with vnoffended eares? Who wyll beare with you, being borne to other thinges, to lyue in theſe delites, yf ye lyue in theſe doynges?
Ioy.
I take pleaſure in Spanyels and Haukes.
Reaſon.
We haue heard of many princes and noble men, whereof ſome were wont to take delight in horſes, and many in dogges, inſomuche that Adrian the Emperour erected monumentes, not for horſes only, as thoſe of whom we made mention before, but for dogges alſo: And moreouer, buylded a citie in the ſame place, where in proſperous hunting he had ſlayne a ſhee Beare with his owne hand, & vſed many tyme to kyl a Lion, but neuer that he made any tombe for a byrde or foule: For which cauſe, ſome ſay that Virgil mocked Marcillus that was nephue to Auguſtus, in that he ſeemed to take pleaſure in them when he was a young man.
Ioy.
I delight muche in huntyng.
Reaſon.
This exerciſe was peculiar ſometime to the Latines, but nowe to the Frenchmen, whiche experience teacheth to be true, and wherof ſome of theyr owne writers do boaſt. Wherefore to ſpeake nothyng of thoſe kinges, whoſe whole lyfe
was perpetual huntyng, the chiefeſt kyng of them all, whenſoeuer he had any reſt from battayle, excercyſyng hym ſelfe in dayly huntyng, at length when he grewe to the extremitie of death, relieued the diſcommodities and weeryſomneſſe of his age with this exercyſe. A ſtrange matter, ſpecially in a wyſe Kyng, and not abhortyng from good learnyng: Howbeit, this was his countrey maner as ſome report. But let it be his countrey guyſe, and let them enioy it alone, neyther let the Ita
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ians take it away from the Frenchmen, neyther contende with them in folly: For yf, laying errour aſide, thou caſt thyne eyes vppon the thyng it ſelfe, thou ſhalt perceyue that this is the exercyſe of baſe Noble men of the meaneſt degree, whom a certayne ſlouth and diſtruſt, whiche is companion to cowardiſe, and from lowe matters ſhame and pryde doo dehort and plucke backe. Wherefore, beyng vnfyt for honeſt affayres, they dwell in Wooddes, not to lorde a ſolytarie lyfe, whereunto they knowe them ſelues as vnmeete as for the lyfe polytike, but to lyue with wy
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o beaſtes, and Dogges, and Byrdes, which they woulde not delyght to doo, vnſeſſe they were ioyned vnto them by ſome lykeneſſe: who yf they conceyue any pleaſure thereby, or only paſſyng away of theyr tyme, they doo foolyſhly on both ſydes, and yet perhaps may attayne to theyr deſyre. But yf they ſeeke therby any glory of theyr wyt and magnificencie, then are they deceiued For, what commendation (I pray you) is it, I ſay, not for Princes, but for Gentlemen, to take pleaſure in handy craftes, or rather ſeruyle practiſes, and affayres? whiche is one of theyr excuſes. For they whiche haue vtterly renounced the liberal ſtudies, which theyr forefathers eſteemed, and proclaymed open warre agaynſt learnyng, whyther ſhal they run but to the enimies Campe? But perhaps they wyll be aſhamed when they looke backe to the elder tymes, and conferre them ſelues with theyr predeceſſours: For they ſhal oftentymes reade how Plat
•
ſtudied Philoſophie, and Homere exercyſed Poetrie, and
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ullie pleaded, and Cae
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ar triumphed, but neuer reade that they hunted.
Of great retinue of ſeruantes. The xxxiii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Am accompanied with a great trayne.
Reaſon.
Cumbred thou wouldeſt ſay.
Ioy.
I haue a great retinue of ſeruantes.
Reaſon.
Say rather that thou haſt a great number of enimies about thee, from whom (an hard caſe) thou canſt not eſcape, who behold the ſecret places of thy houſe, and bewray thy counſel yf they knowe any, who, beſides theyr continual theeuery, a thyng which neuer happened to any beſieged, muſt by thee in the meane whyle be cloathed, and fead, and kept within thyne owne houſe: an hard and doubtful kynde of warre, whiche neuer hath peace nor truice, where vnder thyue enſigne, the enimies armie poſſeſſeth thy walles.
Ioy.
I haue many ſeruauntes.
Reaſon.
Where many ſeruantes are, there is much ſtryfe, much diſcorde, & many domeſtical conflictes, wherof either thou muſt be a ſhamefull beholder, or a painfull appeaſer, and being an indifferent perſon betwene the playntifes and defendantes, thou muſt ſerue them, being of their maiſter, become their iudge.
Ioy.
I haue many ſeruauntes.
Reaſon.
A ſeruant is a moſt curious beaſt to enquire, and moſt negligent to obey. He wyll knowe what thou dooeſt, and what thou thynkeſt: and what thou commaundeſt, he wil not vnderſtand.
Ioy.
I keepe many ſeruants.
Reaſon.
A few wyl doo a man more ſeruice then many, whether it be that gratefull diligence auoydeth the multitude, or els that whereas many be, one looketh vpon another, and they pinch curteſie who ſhal goe about the buſyneſſe. For as it is a ſhame to the diligent to auoyde labour, ſo is it a glory to the ſlouthfull, whiche al men know to be true: but none wyll geue counſell to the contrarie, and euerie man is delyghted with a multitude.
Ioy.
I haue many ſeruantes in my houſe.
Reaſon.
Where many ſeruantes are, there is much noyce, and litle ſeruice, and no ſecrecie at al. Looke how many ſeruantes tongues, ſo many cryers trumpes: Howe many ſeruantes eares, and eyes, ſo many riftes in the houſe, whereby euen the things that are in the bottome wil eaſily run out. A ſeruantes minde is a broken and leaking
kyng veſſel, it holdeth nothing, what ſo euer thou poureſt in, it runneth out immediatly.
Ioy.
I haue many ſeruantes at home.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt many hiſſings, many viperous tongues, & thou knoweſt not the pleaſure of domeſtical peace: thou haſt alſo many wyde & capable bellies, ſlippery throates, troubles in thy hal, ſhame to thy bedchamber, deſtruction to thy ſtore, & perpetual gurmandize. It is an harde matter to gouerne a few ſeruantes well, but many, it is impoſſible.
Ioy.
I haue many ſeruantes at home.
Reaſon.
It were better for thee to be alone. There is nothyng worſe, then when quantitie or number augmenteth the qualitie of euyl thynges: a few ſeruants are euyl, but many far worſe.
Ioy.
I haue many that doo ſerue me.
Reaſon.
It were wel yf the promyſe, & the thyng promiſed, were al one. But how much difference there is betwene thē, they which haue experiment do knowe. They promiſe much, I confeſſe, and cal the Goddes to witneſſe of their promiſe, that they wyl neuer deceiue, or be vntrue. But if a man require the perfourmance of the promiſe, he ſhal finde none at all. Promiſe and faith were ſufficiently perfourmed, if they did not abuſe or deceiue theſe whom they haue promiſed faithfully to ſerue and obey: but they count it ſufficient to haue made ſuch promiſe onely. Adde this moreouer, that beſides their promiſe of ſeruice, they profeſſe alſo knowledge in al thynges, but when it commeth to trial, they knowe very litle or nothing, and they wyl be ſure to do nothing but what their belly, ſleepe, and luſt perſwadeth them. There is nothing more humble and lowly then theſe at their firſt entrance, and nothing more inſolent or vnfaithfull then their continuance, and nothing more odious and hatefull at their departure. It is an hard thyng to thinke, I ſay not to ſuffer, with what pryde & inſolencie theſe ſeruantes, and ſeruyng men, wyl walke by the maiſters of houſes, and promyſyng theyr ſeruice, wyl take maiſterſhyp and gouernment vppon them, and as though they were hyred to make waſt, they doo not only deuoure al, but diſpearſe abroade and conſume, and fyl theyr bellies with theyr gyftes, beeyng prodigall of other mens goodes, and moſt greedy to catch that whiche is not theyr owne: Whom yf at any time ſhame or neceſſitie bryng them to theyr owne conſyderation, that
they remember them ſelues to be ſeruauntes, with what pryde, with what complaynyng, and with what grudging they do theyr ſeruice, who is he that knoweth not? That a man would be loath, not only to geue money for ſuch ſeruice, but to haue it for nothing. And to be ſhort, ſuch hatred and enmitie as th
•
y haue priuily conceyued at home, as ſoone as euer the
•
be out of the doores, they fall to open contention and raylyng with theyr tongues agaynſt theyr maiſters whom they hate, readie to trie the matter with them by dint of ſwoord, if it were lawfull. And if perhaps any of them abſteyne from reprocheful woordes, not the loue of the firſt maiſter, but the feare of the next maiſter, woorketh that effect: vnto whom in this reſpect he feareth to be diſcredited and ſuſpected, while he may iudge the lyke euil cond
••••••
〈◊〉
•
ym, towardes hym ſelfe. By meanes
〈◊〉
which thynges, vnleſ
••
〈…〉
blinded their eies, men might euidently perceiue, how m
••
〈…〉
••
ter it were to be without al ſuch ſeruantes and ſeruice.
〈…〉
haue ſeruantes round about me.
Reaſon.
Vnder the
〈…〉
ſeruantes indeede, as I haue ſaid, moſt cruel and wicked em
••
〈◊〉
are conteined, & yet pride wil not ſuffer you to liue without th
••
〈◊〉
▪ And in this poynt, as in many other, poore wretches, ye
〈…〉
in your owne harme. In this reſpect ye cheifly
〈…〉
for this ye wander by Sea and lande, for this ye
••
〈…〉
••
ther, and caſt abr
•
de golde, to the ende that the hande of your enemies may growe euery day greater and ſtronger. B
••
〈◊〉
is it not ſo? Is not the company of the rych generally of
〈◊〉
••
ther opinion? Many tymes a man ſhal ſee a well goue
•••
d familie of a reaſonable callyng, to be inferiour vnto the moſt
〈◊〉
and gorgeous Courtes of the Perſians and Lydians almoſt
〈◊〉
none other thyng, yea rather farre to ſurpaſſe them in moſt
〈◊〉
••
tere, ſauyng that thoſe Courtes doo feede moe, and more
〈◊〉
••
ly.
Ioy.
I haue a great troupe of ſeruantes way
•
ing vp
•
on me.
Reaſon.
Nay rather vrgyng thee, and treadyng thee vnder foote, and leadyng thee bound in ratlyng chaynes, ſo
〈◊〉
may wel be ſayde to thee: What haſt thou doone, wre
••
〈◊〉
thou ſhouldeſt neede ſo many keepers to garde
•
hee.
Ioy
〈…〉
ſeruantes gard
••
e on euery ſyde.
Reaſon
Thou haſt
〈…〉
of flyght, and therefore not of eſcaping with lyfe. To
〈…〉
•
ernly delighted with a mans owne harme, is a point of deſperat madneſſe. And therefore in this reſpect pouertie is to be wyſhed and loued, in that it deliuereth a man from al the diſcommodities which ryches do bryng, but ſpecially from the craftes and weeriſomeneſſe of ſeruantes.
Of the magnificencie, and beautifulneſſe of houſes. The .xxxiiii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue a gorgeous Houſe.
Reaſon.
What ſhal I ſay other then that ſaying of Tullie:
The houſe is to be furniſhed with dignitie, and not altogeather to be ſought of the houſe: neyther o
••
ch
••••
•••
ner ſeke credite by the houſe, but the houſe by the
〈◊〉
.
Ioy.
I haue ag
••
o
•
y houſe.
Reaſon.
Why art
〈◊〉
••
oud thereof? It is the workemans praiſe, and not thine.
〈◊〉
I dwel in a moſt beautifull houſe.
Reaſon.
Where
〈…〉
may lye hyd, where thou mayeſt wander, where thy ſer
••••
es may ryot, where the people may tarry, where the Para
••••
may hunger, a wyde place capable of much weeryſomnes.
〈…〉
I dwel in a great houſe.
Reaſon.
Of cities and hou
•••
〈…〉
lyke, for he that dwelleth in a wyde place, dwel
••
〈…〉
••
or to the happie lyfe, it ſkilleth not how wide, but
〈◊〉
meeryly thou lyueſt. Oftentimes in Kinges Palaces dwel
•••••
e and griefe: and in poore mens cottages quietneſſe and
〈…〉
the largeneſſe and beautie of the houſe were the chief
••
•
utter, the art of buylding were the moſt worthie art of al o
••
▪
Ioy.
I dwel in a princely houſe.
Reaſon.
As though
〈◊〉
place coulde driue away cares and ſickneſſes: or that death
〈◊〉
••
th a Ladder to climbe vp to the toppes of Towres? Dyd
〈◊〉
••
ullus Hoſti
•
ius abide in his Court, when he was ſtroken
〈◊〉
••
ghtning f
•••
heauen? And was not alſo Targuimus
〈…〉
in his Court, when he was ſlaine? To be briefe, Targui
•••
•••
perbus was alſo in his court, when he was driuen out of
〈◊〉
••
ngdome. There is no place inacceſſible to daungers, & no
〈◊〉
••
ut agaynſt death.
Ioy.
My dwellyng is myne owne
〈…〉
.
Reaſon.
Nay thou haſt but a ſhort tyme of dwel
••
••
e, the day of thy departyng is at hand: thou imagineſt
thy ſelfe to be a Citizen, and thou art but a ſtranger, and dwelleſt but for a rent: There wil come one that wil thruſt thee naked out of doores.
Ioy.
I haue a gorgeous and beautifull houſe.
Reaſon.
When thou art departed from hence, thou ſhalt haue a darke and narrowe one: but if thou do vprightly conſider of thy houſe, it is but obſcure and narowe, and decaying, and euery day woorſe able then other to ſtand vpright, continually fayling and foreſhewing it owne fall: which neither is far of from vtter ruine, neyther can delite a valiant tenant as an houſe, but greue him as a priſon, where he w
•••
•
e loath to ſtay, but deſirous to be diſcharged. Goe
〈◊〉
•••
yes
•
owe, and vaunt of other mens houſes, or of thyne owne priſon.
Of ſtronge defenced Caſtles. The xxxv. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Dwell in a moſt ſtrong Caſtle.
Reaſon.
There is ſome commoditie in houſes, but much more euil in Caſtles. Houſes defend men from heate, and wynde, and rayne: but theſe caſt ſtormes of carefulneſſe into the mindes of the poſſeſſours, and bryng cares and dread to his political ſecuritie.
Ioy.
I haue a Fortreſſe encloſed with very ſtrong walles.
Reaſon.
Haſt thou forgotten the Spartane ſaying: who to his fr
••
nde that ſhewed hym the walles of his countrey, anſwered: If you haue made theſe for women, it is wel: but yf for men, it is ſhameful.
Ioy,
I haue a moſt ſtrong holde.
Reaſon.
What other thyng was it then your impaciencie, and your pryde, and couetouſneſſe that made you haue neede of Caſtles? Howe muche better were it to lyue indifferently with men, and to lyue vpon the playne and tylled lande in quietneſſe, and there to take the pleaſant ſleepe, then to encloſe thy ſelfe within rough and craggy rockes, houlyng with nightly watches, and through thyne owne miſerie to make thyſelfe ſuſpected, and hated of al men? Haſt thou forgotten what Publicola dyd: who although he were one of the chiefe of thoſe that deliuered the Citie of Rome from ſubiection to the kynges, perceyuing neuertheleſſe that the people ſuſpected hym by reaſon of the ſituation of his houſe, to the ende he might diſcharge him ſelf of that falſe ſuſpicion, he pluckt his houſe downe from the hill.
Ioy.
I haue an impregnable Caſtle.
Reaſon.
Haſt thou not heard the olde prouerbe: There is no place ſo impregnable, into which an Aſse laden with golde can not enter? A ſtrong Caſtle prouoketh, not hyndreth beſieging. The Caſtle Tarpeian reſiſted a whyle the inſult of the Senones, and ſo dyd Tarentine of the Carthagiens, vntyll in due tyme they were both ſuccoured. Camilius relieued this laſt, and the other Fabius. But was Hannibal able to defende both Caſtles of Locris: No truely, nor Ilion it ſelfe, nor Byrſa coulde be defended, nor Corinth, whiche of auncient tyme had the f
•••••
f
••
egnable, notwithſtandyng Mumius the conquere
•
〈…〉
Was not the Caſtle Praeneſtine, a more ſtrong and better fortified then which I know not whether euer there were any, about threeſcore and ten yeeres ſince, by that great enimie, becauſe he coulde not by force, yet by flattery and falſe promiſes, taken and raſed, whiche at length roſe vp agayne, beyng ſhaken and weakened, as it were, by a long continual feuer? To be ſhort, there is nothyng inuincible, nothing ſafe agaynſt the craft of man.
Ioy.
Lying in a moſt ſtrong Caſtle, I feare nothyng.
Reaſon.
Caſtles haue geuen cauſe vnto many of hurtful boldneſſe. Many that myght haue lyued ſafely in peace without Caſtles, haue committed them ſelues to the defence of Fortreſſes, and periſhed in them, to the end theyr boldneſſe might there eſpecially be tamed, where it firſt began, mens mindes ought not to be prouoked to aduentures, but rather to be brydled. All deepe ſecuritie is folly, vnleſſe it be concernyng God.
Ioy.
I dwel in a moſt ſure defenced Caſtle.
Reaſon.
Admit thy Caſtle be ſomwhat, yet what is it other then a certaine refuge, and a diſhonourable place of lurkyng to abyde beſieging, which as Liuius ſayth, is in warre a most miſerable thing. When didſt thou euer heare, eyther that Iulius Caeſar at any time, or both the Africanes, or Pompeius Magnus, or Marius, or Alexander, or Pirhus, or Hannibal, or any other princes of great fame, encloſed them ſelues within Caſtles, or rather did not inſult ouer Caſtles: Vnderſtand this much, that Caſtles are not the receptacles of valiant men, but the hiding places of daſtardes. Sthephanus Columnenſis, a man in this our age equal to the beſt of all ages, when a certaine Noble man, a ſtranger
vnto hym and vnknowne, beyng mooued with the fame of his excellency, came to ayde hym, and as it chaunced were vppon a certaine day in a greeuous and doubtful conflict, compaſſed with a great bande of enimies: This ſtrange Gentleman perceiuing the danger, drewe neare, and, O Stephan, ſayth he, where is thy Caſtle: He ſmylyng, as not hauyng any houſe of his owne in Rome, and laying his hande vpon his breaſt, This, ſayth he, is my Caſtle: truely a ſpeech moſt woorthie of hym that ſpake it. And in deede ſo the caſe ſtandeth, holy and deuout perſons, put al theyr truſt in GOD: vpryght and polytike men, in vertue: valiaunt and warlyke men, in armes: cowardes and fearefulmen, in walles and caſtles.
Of precious housholde ſtuffe. The xxxvi. Dialogue.
IOY.
IN my great houſe I haue excellent furniture.
Reaſon.
In ſuperfluous roomth, an vnprofitable weight: The one mininiſtreth lurkyng for the eues, the other preye: but both of them danger for thee, and nooryſhment for burnyng and malice.
Ioy.
In my wyde houſe, I haue plentie of houſhold.
Reaſon.
The one of theſe thou muſt forſake when thou changeſt place, & if thou wylt enioy the other, thou muſt often remooue it: which wyl bryng more trouble then pleaſure, and more burden then honour.
Ioy.
I haue great ſtore of all maner of furniture at home in my houſe.
Reaſon.
A continual warre, not with theeues only, but with Myſe and Moathes: Spiders alſo, and ruſt, and ſmoake, and duſt, and raine, doo continually fight agaynſt ye. Oh ye delicate rych men, with what weapons wyll ye dryue away theſe enimies?
Ioy.
My houſhold ſtuffe is moſt precious.
Reaſon.
Not the value, but contempt of the thyng, maketh a rych man: otherwyſe deſyre groweth by ſeekyng, and pouertie by deſiring: ſo that nothyng maketh a man poorer, then the ryches of a couetous perſon, which if they were rightly wayed, and contempt proceeding from an indifferent minde enſued, that were the true way of riches. I wyl neuer count thee wiſe, whyle thou art in loue with ſuche follies, no if I ſaw thy houſe were couered,
and thy furniture al beſet and glitteryng with golde and precious ſtones.
Ioy.
My furniture is ſo braue, that it is enuied at.
Reaſon.
Perhaps it is ſo in the ſight of the eye, or perſwaſion of the minde, but in very deede it is a burdenſome and troublous heape of pelfe: but there is nothing more hungry and miſerable, then couetouſneſſe, whoſe greedineſſe is prouoked by the thinges that are ſought, and yet when they be obteyned, they haue no taſte: foraſmuche as while they are hoped for, they ſhine, and whyle they are poſſeſſed, they waxe vile: ſo that whyle many a man thinketh he hath won wealth, he hath gayned but ſorow & carefulneſſe. Theſe are thy deere burdens: but if thou chaunce to beholde any dearer and more precious, or dayly beholding them take away thy wondring, thou wylt not eſteeme them. But admit thou loue them ſtyll, and thy wondring at them do continue: doth there not alſo withal a difficult & perpetual errour remayne? For in getting there is but one care, but many toyles in keeping: thou ſhalt haue ſomthing alwayes to looke to, to number, to folde, to beate, to bruſhe, and ſomthing alſo that ſhall pleaſe and diſpleaſe thyne eyes.
Ioy.
I haue great plentie of houſhold ſtuffe.
Reaſon.
O foolyſhe man, that art delighted with the greatneſſe of thyne owne impedimentes.
Of Precious ſtones and Pearles. The .xxxvii. Dialogue.
IOY.
THE glittering and beautie of precious ſtones delight me.
Reaſon.
I confeſſe, this is not the leaſt part of terreſtrial and mortal vanitie, of them that doo encloſe large patrimonies within a litle ſtone: whoſe price is vnſtable, and vncerteine, and changeth euery day, in that it dependeth only on the fame of the buyers, and lyght beliefe of the mad richer ſort: ſo that ſome that haue lyen long time neglected, ſuddenly ryſe to great prices: and ſome that haue been of great value, ſoddenly fall to be of no eſtimation: I knowe not vppon what markes appearing, not ſo much in the thinges themſelues, as in the opinion of ſuch as haue ſkill in them. A woorthy knowledge truely, whiche neglecting the woorſhipping of GOD, the care of the minde, and the knowledge of them both, geueth it ſelfe onely to the
ſearchyng out of veynes of ſtones. But this is the worlde: And this is not the fyrſt tyme that they are muche accompted that craftily make prices of them: as for the true prices, there are none at all, or not knowen. But howe daungerous this vanitie is, and howe doubtfull and vncertayne the iudgement, it may appeare who ſo calleth to minde that whiche chaunced of late, howe that when as that Gentleman of greater fortune then wyſedome, had bought a litle ſtone, which was a carbuncie, for ten thouſande crownes: he ſayde oftentymes, howe that the exceeding brightneſſe and beautie, ſurpaſſing all common and naturall ſtones, brought hym in ſuſpicion of the rightneſſe thereof, and for that cauſe he ſhewed it vnto a very cunning Lapidarie, to haue his opinion therein: Who anſweared, that in deede it was no true ſtone, but rather glaſſe, or ſome ſuche lyke kynde of ſtuffe: not naturall, but deuiſed by ſome ſupernaturall and woonderfull art. Whiche doubt of this Gentlemans, what was it other then a confeſſyng that the ſame glaſſe was more beautifull then any ſtone, although perhaps the ſtone be harder: Notwithſtanding let them iudge hereof, who caſt away they money in this kinde of gaine, which they myght conuert to more hon
•
ſt vſes, or miſſpende their time in this kynde of knowledge, whiche they myght imploy in better ſtudies. And if this doubting were iuſt, and vpon good cauſe, who ſeeth not what ambition, and how much blindneſſe there is in them whiche pay ſo decre for a thyng, not in reſpect of the forme & ſubſtance, but of the bare name only.
Ioy.
There is nothyng that I holde more deere, then precious ſtones.
Reaſon.
Truely I beleeue thee: Not vertue, not thine eſtimation, not thy countrey, not thy lyfe it ſelfe. And to ſay nothyng of thoſe two thinges whiche you make accompt of, as nothing more vile: the two laſt things, & therewith alſo great riches, and whatſoeuer els ye eſteeme moſt precious, I wyll prooue that they haue geuen place to the price & loue of a precious ſtone, and that the keeping thereof hath been preferred before exile and pouertie: yea and if neede had ſo required, before death alſo. Who knoweth not of Nonius practice in the like caſe? This Nonius was a Senator of Rome, and a very riche Gentleman, and had a precious ſtone eſteemed as twentie thouſande crownes, and the
ſtones name was Opalus. It groweth in India, gliſteryng with varietie of all colours. Now Antonius the Triumuir, beyng prouoked & ſet on fire with the deſire of this iewel, as a man of all other moſt proude and couetous, and vnto whom whatſoeuer nature made deſired, fortune made lawful, conceyued (as it fortuned) a mortal hatred of ye owner, with an vnlawful deſire of the ſtone: Wherby it came to paſſe, that in that general heateof proſcription & baniſhment, wherein ſo many lightes of the common wealth periſhed, that Nonius name alſo was publiſhed among the reſidue: whiche whether it were for this crime, that he poſſeſſed a thing that was precious, and very wel liked of the tyrant, it is not certeinly knowen: But he, as one that toke example of the Tiber of Pontus, to the intent he might redeeme his libertie, by the loſſe of his hurtful burden, & prouide for his ſafetie, which was more deere vnto him, then his preſent danger, he tooke that with him, and ſo departed: perſwading him ſelfe, that yf he had that with him, he would take no care for the loſſe of his liuing or countrey, beyng redy therewith to goe into baniſhment, to begge, and if neede were, to dye. Who wyll not thynke well of that, whereunto a Senatour bare ſo great affection? And truely one of theſe twayne we muſt needes graunt, eyther that the Iewell was of great value, or that the owner was of a haſe mynde. But thou lookeſt not to knowe whiche of theſe twayne I conclude to be trueſt. For although the iudgement of this and ſuche lyke, or rather the infection of them whiche they leaue in the mynde, haue farre and wyde infected the maners of the common multitude: notwithſtandyng, it behooueth great wittes, neyther to be delyghted with money, nor any thyng els, ſauyng the beautie of vertue onely: vnleſſe it be, that through the meanes of theſe ſhort pleaſures whiche delyght the eyes, the mynde, beyng ſtyrred vp, be taken with the loue and deſyre of the eternal beautie, from whiche fountaine it ſpringeth whatſoeuer is fayre.
Ioy.
I am enticed with the loue of excellent precious ſtones.
Reaſon.
This excellencie nature hath not made, but opinion onely, whiche among ſome hath geuen the cheefeſt price to the Carbuncle, and among other, to the Diamoude. That whiche I reckened fyrſt, is the ſpeciall iudgement
nowe a dayes among the common Iewellers and Lapidaries. And this laſt, the opinion of certayne auncient writers, according to whoſe iudgement, the Diamond, whiche is not only the moſt precious of al ſtones, but of all earthly thinges, was wont to be the Jewel and gemme in olde time of kinges, and not all, but of the chiefeſt. But now at this day, foraſmuche as there is no encre aſe of any thyng ſo great and ſo ſpeedie, as of laſciuiouſneſſe and pride, it grewe not onely to be worne by kinges, but alſo to be ſet vpon fingers of the common people. Next vnto this is the Indian & the Arabian Pearle in eſtimation, and after them the Smaragde, I know not by what perturbation of order. For if the redneſſe and paleneſſe of the firſt be commendable, why likewiſe ſhoulde not the whiteneſſe and greeneneſſe of theſe in like maner ſhoulde not the whiteneſſe and greeneneſſe of theſe in like maner delight the eye? The Saphyre alſo may more iuſtly complayne, ſince there is nothing that the earth bringeth foorth, that in likeneſſe more reſembleth the cleere heauen. Howbeit, as I haue ſaid, it is the madneſſe of men, and not the nature of the thinges, that is in price, the vayne follies of the riche, and the fables of idle perſons, who woulde ſoone contemne theſe trifles, if they would buſie them ſelues about more profitable affayres concernyng peace or warre.
Ioy.
The gliſteryng precious ſtones, and pleaſaunt ſhinyng pearles, do much moue myne affections.
Reaſon.
Mooue thee, ſayeſt thou? yea rather they ouerthrowe, tread vnder foote, effeminate and make weake the mynde. Concerning which matter, yf I ſhoulde goe about to heape vp examples, both of men and women, I ſhould not inſtruct thee, but weerie thee. I wyll touche one onely, and whiche is greateſt of all, to the ende thou mayeſt vnderſtande, howe daungerous this follie is to the weaker mindes, whiche hath inuaded the moſt hygh and valiant. Pompeius, ſurnamed the great, the moſt continent of all the Romane captaines (I meane of the latter ſort, who, how much they excel the reſidue in noble exploites, and valiant deedes, ſo muche they are inferiour vnto their forefathers in modeſtie of maners, and frugalitie of lyfe) when he returned conquerour out of Spayne, from ſubduing the Weſt partes of the worlde, and had dryuen the theeues and pyrates into one place togeather, to whom the name of Conuenae, meeters together,
was geuen, whiche ſhall laſt for euer. There vpon the Pyrenean mountaynes, the ſharpeneſſe of the place perhappes aſſiſting, and modeſtie helping the matter, and abatyng the pryde of his age and victorie, he ſet vp a manlyke Trophei, and monument, framed in maner of a counterfeite, of his naturall and rough vizage: being then great in deede and magnificiall, who although he were but young in yeeres, yet was he olde in maners, and rype in minde. The ſame man afterwarde, when he had taken the Pyrates, and vanquiſhed the Eaſt, beyng then changed, as it were with the alteration of the tyme and place, and returnyng another man, from another part of the worlde, he ſhewed in triumphe not his humilitie, but his manly countenaunce, become more effeminate then before, after a womaniſhe, or diuine maner, not portraited in Braſſe or Marble, but adorned with rare and exquiſite pearles. This is no ſmall rebuke, for the pryde and ſpoyle of the Eaſt, to be layde vpon the head of one man, not without the inſultyng of the conquering people, and to the excuſing of the Princes that ſhoulde enſue. For what ſhoulde not Rome (being afterwarde in ſlauerie vnder tyrantes) ſuffer, which being free, behelde this ſo great inſolencie, of a moſt louyng citizen. As for the other furnitures of his triumphe, whiche was more humble or ſober, they are not mencioned, neyther the armour and horſes of the ſubdued nations, as the maner was wont to be, nor the priſoners, charrets, nor other booties: The vileſt thynges whiche we reave to haue been there, was golde, precious ſtones, and pearles. Among many other thinges, there was a great Guardeuiandes of Cheſt, wherein was great ſtore of treaſures of all ſortes and colours, euery one conſiſting of ſeuerall kindes, both cuppes of golde, and garmentes, and pictures: Yea, there was among other thynges a Moone of maſſy golde, of a woonderfull weight, and beddes of golde, and ſundry crownes and gar
•
andes, beſet with great and whyte pearles. Moreouer, there was a mountaine of gold, the fourme whereof was foure ſquare, al beſet with Hartes, and Lions, and figures of ſundry beaſtes, and lyuyng creatures: alſo with trees, and all kyndes of fruites, with glitte
•
ing pearles coueryng the golden branches of the trees upon the toppe of the mountaine. Of the ſame ſubſtaunce alſo
there was a clocke, ſo cunningly wrought, that the woorkemanſhyp excelled the ſtuffe, whiche continually mooued and turned about, a right woonderfull and ſtrange ſight to ſuche as vſe to admire vayne matters.
Ioy.
With theſe thynges I am wonderfully delighted.
Reaſon.
Truely I thinke it well, and I ſuppoſe that thou wouldeſt gladly haue beholden this Triumph, and more greedily haue led it, & moſt greedyly haue poſſeſſed it, whervnto the ſtate of thy paſſionate mind perſuadeth thee. But beleue thou me, theſe thinges which do ſo much delight the ſight, are alwaies hurtful to the bodie and ſoule. And a
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for him of whom we ſpeake, there was nothing that euer did more hurt his triumphant glory, not the Theſſalica day, nor the Egyptian foyle. For there he yeelded not wholy to fortune, but here he yeelded wholy to vice. There appeared the force, and vnfaythfulneſſe of another: but here his owne frailtie, and ambition. And therefore there he loſt his power, and his lyfe: but here he impayred the fame of his populare name, and of his excellent modeſtie, and his name of Pompeius the Great, whiche he had wonne by his great trauell. A ſtrange matter to be tolde, howe that he that was founde to be more victorious agaynſt the Spamardes, beyng a warlyke nation, then agaynſt the daſtardly and faintharted Aſians: and this the more to be marueyled at, in that duryng the tyme that he aboade in Aſia, he remayned perfecte and inuincible, when as he bare hymſelfe moſt vpryghtly and abſtynently in the Temple of Hieruſalem, of all other the moſt rycheſt that euer was. But at the laſt he was not able to withſtande the force of vice, neyther continued he, as before he had alwayes been, a ſinguler and one maner of man, but beyng made, as it were, one of many, was ſo captiuated and caſt downe. This was the effect of the glitteryng of the precious ſtones, of the beautie of the pearles, and of the weyght of the golde, In like conflicte before Aſia had ouercome Alexander, but it is ſmall victorie to winne hym that is ouercome by his owne vices, and a great matter to ouercome the ouercommer of hymſelfe. After whom, there was almoſt no captaine that could gouerne hymſelfe vpryghtly among the pleaſures of Aſia, whiche beyng tranſported ouer into the countrey of Latium,
dyd vanquyſh you in your owne natiue ſoyle. For yf ye wyll confeſſe the very trueth, when ye had conquered all other nations, your ſelues were conquered in the Aſiane conqueſt. Goe thy wayes nowe, and make muche accompt of precious ſtones, whiche are freendes to the eyes, and enimies to the mynde, and the vanquiſhers of valiant men.
Ioy.
I take great pleaſure in glitteryng precious ſtones.
Reaſon.
Some man is delyghted with them that are of ſundry colours, and ſome with the paleneſſe of other, ſo that this appetite is diuers, but the vanitie is one. Thou haſt hearde howe that in the iudgement of kyng Pyrrhus, who made warre agaynſt the Romanes, the Achate was eſteemed of all ſtones the moſt precious: And nowe, as prices of thynges doo alter, it is of the leaſt value, wherein, as the report goeth, were repreſented the ſhapes of ſundrie thynges, as of beaſtes, riuers, foreſtes, byrdes, and wylde beaſtes, not framed by the hande of any woorkeman, but by the induſtrie of nature. In this princely Iewell, as Solinus tearmeth it, were not ingrauen, but naturally imprinted the portraitures of the nine Muſes, and Apollo the notable Muſitian playing in the middeſt of them: theſe ſpottes and markes of the ſtone ſo lynked one to another, that within that ſpace, whiche was but very lytle, euery Image and portraiture myght be diſcerned by it owne ſpeciall notes, as they were placed within the ring, and for farther ornament, the kynges name was alſo thereunto added. For ſuche thynges as belong to great perſonages, are the more eſteemed. But I pray you, what good dyd this Achate vnto hym? Dyd it make hym inuincible in battayle, or ſaue hym from death, or coulde it delyuer hym from the reioycyng of his enimies, or from the ſtone whiche the hande of a woman threwe at hym? What, I ſay, auayled it vnto Pyrrhus to haue hadde that ſtone? or what hindred it Fabritius and Curius that they wanted it, by which two valiaunt captaines he was vanquiſhed, and driuen out of Italy? I dare affirme, that neither of theſe twayne would ſo much yeelde in minde vnto him, as to make exchange of their harde and rough helmet, for his ſwoorde that was ſo beſet with golde
and pretious ſtones, or for his kingly ring. Thus valiant men deſpiſe all wanton & effeminate thynges. How ſhould they couet the kynges ring, who only vpon the confidence & truſt in vertue, contemned the king himſelfe, his princely ryches and kingdome? But you, contrarywyſe▪ by diſtruſt of minde, woonder at euery thyng, and couet them▪ as yf they w
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uld aduaunce you
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o felicitie: and vertue onely is contemned. There is alſo a more auncient report and fame of another precious ſtone, wh
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che Polycrates kyng of the Sam
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poſſeſſed: ſome ſay is was a Sardonix. That ſtone, among that moſt ryche princes treaſure, was counted the moſt precious: and therefore he, as one that had neuer in all his lyfe felt a
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y aduerſitie, meanyng to appeaſe
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he malice of ſubtile fortune, whiche openly flattered him, and priuily went about to ouerthrowe hym, tooke ſhypping, and launched foorth into the deepe Sea, and with his owne hande threwe in his ring wherein was that ryche ſtone, to the intent he myght once in his lyfe be ſory: perſwading himſelfe, that he had craftily dealt with fortune, if he recompenced ſo many ioyful good turnes, with one ſorowful miſchance. But ſhe, as being neyther eaſily deceyued nor pleaſed, indifferently mingling good with euyll, required yet a farther matter, for ſo long a tyme of fauour, but a ſhort thyng, mary very hard: that he, who in all his lyfe tyme ſeemed to hymſelfe and others moſt fortunate, ſhoulde at his death appeare and be moſt miſerable, by ſo many vices and puniſhmentes lyghtyng vppon one head: and therefore refuſing that whiche was offered (O the daliance of fortune) euen as though ſhe had ſent a fiſh on meſſage to receyue the ring into his mouth: this fiſhe was taken immediately, and ſerued to his table, and in hym reſtored his ring vnto hym, no
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without the woondring of the beholders. This ſtone (many hundred yeeres after) Auguſtus Caeſar, as they ſay, being moued with the price and ſtrangeneſſe of the thyng, cauſed to be ſet in a crowne of gold, and dedicated it in the temple of Concord. Here agayne I demaunde, what it auayle
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the tyrant that afflicted his countrey to haue had this iewell? or hindred Pythagoras to wan
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his countrey, wherein they were both borne, and his owne houſe, and his freendes, whiche he forſooke vpon miſliking of his maners? Forſooth, when by the conſent of all men this
tyrant was hanged vpon the gallowes, and moſt extreamly punyſhed, he was yet woorthy of greater tormentes: But the Philoſopher dying in peace, was worſhypped for a GOD, and his houſe eſteemed for a church. This difference there was betwene the precious ſtone of the one, and the cloake of the other. But neither coulde Polycrates Sardonix woorke ſuch effect, that his body ſhoulde not be conſumed by foules vpon the gallowes: Lyke as alſo of late dayes neyther could the Carbuncle of Iohn kyng of Fraunce, whiche he woore vpon his finger, and was founde and taken from hym that day, preſerue hym from the ouerthrow and fallyng into his enimies handes: whoſe chaunce it was notwithſtandyng after certayne yeeres to ſee and touche it agayne, beeyng redeemed, as it were, in another worlde, & ſent to hym by a friende, as a thyng of ineſtimable price, but of no more efficacie or vertue then other ſtones of that kynde are. For, that precious ſtones are bryght and glyſteryng, I doo not deny, leaſt I ſpeake agaynſt common ſenſe: But I deny that they be good for any thyng, or haue any vertue, but that only whiche is commonly reported, they can alſo breake up the lockes of couetous ryche men, and emptie their coffers.
Ioy.
Precious ſtones are indifferently efteemed of, and they muche delyght my mynd.
Reaſon.
But it is great madneſſe to beſtowe muche care and coſt vppon thynges, whiche although they ſeeme ſomewhat, yet in deede are nothyng: This is only to take delyght in the pleaſure and deceit of the eyes. Why dooeſt thou trauayle in thoſe thynges, whiche doo not only not auayle to felicitie, but they detract nothing from miſery, neyther when they be preſent, nor when they be abſent? And although there be many ſtrange and woonderous matters written by many, whiche are not correſpondent to a trueth, nor profitable to the readers, but only ſet downe to make them amazed, ſpecially by the Magiciens, who haue had ſo muche leaſure that they myght fyll whole volumes with ſuche triflies. Notwithſtandyng in this reſpect I fully agree with Plinius the ſeconde, and I ſuppoſe that they wrote theſe things not without contempt and laughter at mankynde, to the entent that they myght both fyl theyr foolyſhe lyghtneſſe of beleefe with vayne opinions, and delyght them ſelues with our
follies.
Ioy.
I take pleaſure in thoſe precious ſtones, wherein it is credible that there is ſome vertue.
Reaſon.
What vertues thoſe are thou haſt hearde, and yf there by any other, what ſo euer they be, they be myngled with the lyes of Merchantes and wryters, and not ſo muche feygned by induſtry of Art, as encreaſed and confyrmed by your aſſent: whiche thynges it were muche more better eyther wyſely to reprooue, or valyantly to contempne, then to vnderſtande the pryſes, vertues, and vyces of al precious ſtones. But in this one poynt I diſagree from Plinie, moſt of whoſe ſayinges doo muche pleaſe me: He promyſeth to ſhewe a meane to finde out the knowledge and craft of counterfaytyng falſe ſtones, where he ſayth, It is good alſo to enſtructe ryotouſneſſe agaynst deceypt: But in myne opinion, ryotouſneſſe ought not to be defended and armed, but to be left alone, and forſaken, as naked among the armed troupes of the ſubtyle counterfeytours, to the ende, that beyng oftentymes circumuented and deceyued, yf by none other meanes, it ma
•
•
r leaſtwyſe be chaſtized by
〈…〉
•••
eipt.
Of Cuppes made of precious Stones. The xxxviii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Delyght to drynke in precious Stone.
Reaſon.
It is an auncient kynde of wantonneſſe and ryot, to cauſe precious ſtones to be made hollowe for drynkyng Cuppes, in deſpite of glaſſe, whiche though it be brittle, yet is it a moſt beautyful and cleane ſubſtaunce, and alſo of ſyluer and golde, whiche in tymes paſt was woont to be the bttermoſt bounde of humane couecouſneſſe. And there was ſometyme founde out whereby ryot myght exceede couetouſneſſe, whiche was not counted a ſufficient woorthie cauſe of ſo great an euyl. This the Poet ſawe, when he ſayde: This man strong cities doth beſiege, and houſes in diſtreſse. A great euyl doubtleſſe, not only contrary to iuſtice, but alſo to humanitie. And to the end thou myghteſt knowe from whence it ſpringeth, he addeth, That
he might drinke out of precious ſtone. Behold two cauſes of ciuil furies, that whereas a ſiluer chalice had been ſufficient for the diuine ſeruice, yet a golden one ſeemed in mans eye ſcarce good yenough, vnleſſe the danger alſo enhaunced the price: and pretious ſtones were cut hollowe by forraigne woorkmanſhyp, in whiche a poore ſymple wretche ſhoulde drynke, and with the greater pleaſure applie thereunto his lyppes, defyled with lyes and fylthyneſſe: beyng a thyng both vnhanſome to drynke in, the feare breakyng of the pleaſure, and coſtly by meanes of the trimmyng, and alſo difficult to be preſerued, and ieoperdous for health, and moſt fyt for poyſoynyng. For this ſaying of an other Poet is true: There is no poyſon drunke in earthen pottes. But when thou begynneſt to drynke in pottes of precious ſtone, then be afrayde of poyſonyng.
Ioy.
I accompt it a glorious matter to drynke in precious ſtone.
Reaſon.
While pryde aduaunceth her ſelfe, ſhe thynketh neyther vppon fallyng, nor ruine. Ye be more deſyrous to drynke coſtly, then ſafely, more ambitiouſly, then ſaue
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ly. Thus vyces are ouercome with vices, and the taſt of the
〈◊〉
dooth not ſo much ſolicit
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••••
e appetite, as the colour of the cuppe prouoketh pryde. Yee ſtande amazed at the beames of precious ſtones, and this amazyng ye eſteeme at the greateſt price that may be, not only of money, but of vertue. Dooth not this Virgiliane ouerthrower of his countrey, of whom I ſpeake, ſeeke for a precious ſtone of that pryce, lyghtly ouerpaſſyng iuſtice and godlyneſſe, and by loſſe of them, to gayne this, that he myght drynke in precious ſtone, and forget hym ſelfe to be a Euizen and a man.
Ioy.
I am deſyrous to drynke in cuppes of precious ſtone.
Reaſon.
Perhaps there is ſome other cauſe of ſo feruent deſire: For it is not the gliſtering only that allureth thee, but ſome hydden vertue. For who is able to declare all the operations and vertues of precious ſtones: Thus I ſay then, yf al thoſe thynges that are reported or written of them, the ſeuenth part were true, it were a worthye matter: but neyther the ſeuentie part, neyther the ſeuenſcore is true in deede. And yf, as Plinius ſayth, there be no one deceypt in the lyfe of man more gaynefull,
who wyl ma ruayle yf there be none more plentifull? Not that there is more common ſale of precious ſtones, then of any other thyng, as beyng ſuche thyngs as the preciouſneſſe of them maketh them rare, but that the trueth is neuer more rare in any merchandize. For in no ware is there leſſe lybertie of experimentyng, or more libertie of lying, or more vantage of vntrue dealyng, or impudency more free, or the cuſtome of vſyng it more common. But yf perhaps among all theſe vertues there be any thyng true, ſhal we accompt this to be it whiche the aucthoritie of Magiciens confirmeth, and the opinion of the common people eſtablyſhed vppon the ſame auoweth, that the Amethiſt withſtandeth drunkenneſſe? Is it then without cauſe, that this precious ſtone is meete to make cuppes of for drunkenneſſe? Nowe I ieſt with thee: Ieſtyng many tymes prouoketh anger▪ to wyt, in aſcribyng that to one, whiche another hath deſerued: vnleſſe we wyl ſay, that this was the wyt and deuiſe of pleaſure, that the drinkers ſight might be delited together with his taſt, and ſo the ſenſes being tickled on al ſides, the drunkenneſſe might be the more curious and merie. This, vnleſſe I be deceiued, is the trueſt and moſt certayne cauſe of this matter, both in other, and alſo in this, which is ſpecially prouided as it were a captayne agaynſt drunkenneſſe, ouer which ſobrietie onely may triumph, in vſing litle wine, accordyng to the ſaying of that excellent counſeller, & that not to be drunke for pleaſure, but for profite, to abandō the infirmities of the ſtomacke, with a litle ſmal wine, I ſay, delayed with water, to auoyde the force and rage of ſtrong and myghtie wynes, and to quenche and brydle them, as it were with a floodde of water, to knowe and remember that in hotte and ſtrong wyne, and often, or to muche drynkyng of it, there lurketh muche matter of ſhame, ſorowe, and repentaunce, that whyther ſoeuer thou turneſt thy ſelfe, this is alwayes in mens eyes, and that no man of a ſounde mynde can diſſemble it. Theſe be the profitable weapons agaynſt that Monſter. What place is there here nowe left for the Amethiſt, or for any precious ſtone? The Magiciens haue deuyſed that lye, and there haue been ſome that haue beleeued, that by the vertue of this ſtone, promyſyng the in ſobrietie, they myght boldly quaffe without
feare of drunkenneſſe: Falſly and impudently affyrmed by the Magiciens, as many thynges moe, and foolyſhly beleeued of the common people, as al thynges els. This is therfore the ſumme of all, there is nothyng els that procureth vnto you this and ſuche lyke follies, but pleaſure, prouoked and incenſed with dangers, but ſpecially pryde and forgetfulnes of your ſtate, and an hurtful feare of mynde, which beyng ſuch, as there is nothyng more hurtful to the lyfe of man, ſo I marueyle that there is nothing more pleaſant, I ſay not, in that vertue, beyng ſo great a good, ſeemeth but vyle in your iudgement, but your lyfe, your health, your ſafetie, your ryches, and finally your pleaſures, whiche in your iudgementes are the chiefeſt felicitie. All theſe thinges geue place vnto pryde only, this aboue all other thynges maketh you to couet precious ſtones, which are euermore vnprofitable, many times hurtful, and neuer neceſſary. By prouocation of pryde it is come to paſſe, that beyng alwayes buſy and feareful, but delycate, the floores of your houſes be lyke the Altars of your Churches, golden and glytteryng with ſtones, and your purpled and decked ſacrifices, are layed out to the furniture of your couetouſneſſe, and curioſitie of your wantonneſſe, and the reſidue of your brauery to pryde, al which vyces ioyntly and ſeuerally raigne ouer you, howbeit, pryde, as I haue ſayde, claymeth the principalitie. Couetouſneſſe peraduenture, which the name it ſelfe importeth, might indifferently content her ſelfe with a great portion of golde, and laſciuiouſnes repoſe her ſelfe in her banquettes and pleaſures, pryde only neuer reſteth, ſo long as ſhe ſeeth any thyng aboue her, who at the fyrſt begynnyng of al thynges, ſought to make her ſelfe equall with GOD, and the very ſame enforceth you paynfully to ſeeke for precious ſtones, and curyouſly to ioyne or hollowe them, to the entent that when ye gooe abroade, or ſytte in open places in iudgement of Courtes, or at Feaſtes, ye may ſhyne and glyſter lyke Starres, and continually repyne at the beautie of heauen. And to returne to my purpoſe, by the meanes of this guyde, with your houſes, with your apparrel, with your meate and drynke, and generally with all your thynges whiche were inuented to ſerue eyther the neceſſitie
or pleaſure of mankynde, ye haue continually mingled ſome fayre and ſhyning danger, by encreaſyng whereof, this miſchiefe commeth to lyght, that of precious ſtones ye nowe make not only Pottes, but Baſons, and Dyſhes, and kettles, and Morters, and almoſt al maner of neceſſaries. Therefore reioyce pryde, that thou haſt gotten the vpper hand: thou requiredſt pottes of precious Stone, and thy miniſters haue prepared for thee al maner of veſſel of the ſame ſtuffe. And it is nowe as common a thyng to vſe precious ſtones to theſe purpoſes, as to plowe lande to ſowe corne in: and ſo that is growne among you into a cuſtome, whiche was laſciuiouſneſſe among your Elders.
Ioy.
I delyght to drynke in cuppes of Chriſtal.
Reaſon.
Now I ſpare precious ſtones, this froſen yſe excuſeth them, whiche hath in it nothyng more then hath glaſſe, for it is aſſoone broken, and cannot be made whole, ſauyng that it is harder to be gotten, and eyther it is brought from far, or yf it be found neerehande, it is to be dygged out of the vnpaſſable and froſen rockes and clyftes of the Alpes, by hangyng downe by a ſmall rope, & for this cauſe it is the dearer, and of greater force to prouoke your deſyre vnto it. And therefore, thou readeſt how the Emperour Nero was ſtroke with a ſuddeine report, and how among al his other great loſſes, he bewayled moſt greuouſly the loſſe of two chriſtal cuppes, which were broken by chaunce, or rather, as I thinke the trueth of the ſtorie to be otherwyſe, that being throughly inraged with anger, and offended with the age wherein he liued, and enuying the poſteritie that ſhould come after, knocked them togeather, and brake them with his owne hands, that there ſhould neuer any man drinke out of them more. Behold the expiation of hard fortune, there was neuer any thing deuiſed or found out, wherein this maiſter of miſchiefe might more ſharply exerciſe his crueltie: he wreaked hym ſelfe vpon his Chriſtal, whiche aboue al thynges he loued moſt dearely. Some man wil ſay, that this is an excuſe for meaner men. In deede to imitate a prince it carryeth ſome credite, but to imitate Nero no good man wylbe wylling.
Ioy.
I take pleaſure in veſſelles of Chriſtall.
Reaſon.
And percepueſt thou not howe frayle and bryttle thy delyght is? But
this is your maner, ye take pleaſure in thynges of your owne nature, and whereas your weakeneſſe ought to ſeeke ſome firme thyng, and your principal part, whiche is your ſoule, to behold, looke, and deſyre hygh and heauenly thynges, on both ſydes ye ſeeke after weake and baſe thyngs. It happened wel, that Murrhine ſtones are not had in pryce at this day among deynties. The incredible madneſſe of your aunceſtours, with the ſame conqueſt whiche brought in many forraygne thynges among you, brought in theſe alſo, euen at that tyme when Pompeius tryumphed in Italy, and roade ſo royally into the Citie of Rome, brynging in with hym out of Aſia an vnprofitable ſeede, but whiche was ſowne in a fertyle ſoyle, and by diligent huſbandmen: and it grewe vp ſo faſt in ſhort tyme, that a man myght ſee the pryce of one Murrhine ſtone to be at ſeuentie talentes, and howe the lyppe of that cuppe was greedyly bitten away by the teeth of a certayne louer, by meanes of which ſtrange effect of loue, that blemyſhe muche commendyng the beautie of the cuppe, encreaſed both the fame and pryce thereof. In this reſpect therefore, neyther your laſciuiouſneſſe, wherein ye geue place to no age, nor your pryde, is leſſe then was your forefathers: but in reſpect of both, the matter is diminiſhed, not only by the fallyng of the Murrhine ſtone to ſerue your turne, but alſo in that they are not knowne vnto you: in ſteede wherof a newe kynde of riotouſneſſe hath inuaded your myndes, the roote of the Felberd tree, beyng a woorthy wood, to make cups of, brauely ſet forth with knottes and ſkarres, a ſpecial folly whiche now reſteth among the Frenchmen. To this purpoſe alſo are there other trees founde out, ſome forraigne, and called by ſtrange names, & ſome knowne, ſome called by one name, & ſome by another, but al of like vanitie, & there wil more be dayly found, and there wylbe no meaſure of new deuiſes, vntyl the glorie of the Murrhine ſtones be ſurpaſſed by your cuppes. In this one poyne I confeſſe, ye haue geuen place to the madneſſe of your aunceſtours, in that they highly eſteemed of Amber cups, which ſcrued to no purpoſe, but only to haue them for wantonnes ſake, & reckoned them amōgſt their chiefeſt delightes: inſomuch that it is reade, how that Nero himſelfe, not only of al princes, but of
all men the cruelleſt, by publyſhyng of certayne verſes, adopted vnto hym ſelfe the yeallowe lockes and treſſes of his yl belcued, and worſe murdred wyfe, vnder this name, and by a ſpeciall choſen title. For, a woonderous matter to thynke it, that cruel diſpoſition of his was friendly to the Muſes, in that he called them his, becauſe they ſeemed golden. O fierce and vnfortunate flatteries, O comely and commendable head, woorthy by ſome wycked foote to be troade downe to the Deuyl? How be it you haue Ambar cuppes, & eſteeme them not, or eſteeme them modeſtly, or regard them ſparingly.
Of Engrauinges and ſeales in precious Stones. The .xxxix. Dialogue.
IOY.
I TAKE great pleaſure in Engrauynges, and markes in precious Stones.
Reaſon.
I confeſſe howe that to the comelyneſſe of nature, a certayne ornament of Art is added, & howe ſtones are engrauen with prettie faces and portraitures in them to ſeale withall, a kynde of ſkyl truely, whiche is reckened among the fyneſt workemanſhyppes of moſt curious wyts: and among al ſtones the Amethiſt is moſt eaſie and fortunat for engrauyng, as it is reported: and among woorkmen Pyrgoteles firſt wan to him ſelfe the name of a cunning engrauer, for that among al woorkmen of his ſcienc, ehe ſeemed vnto king Alexander moſt meete to engraue the counterfeit of his phiſnomie, whiche afterwarde the Emperour Auguſtus dyd weare, when as the precious Stone, whiche he before vſed, was commonly ieſted at among the people, and tearmed the rydlyng Sphinx, ſo that beſydes the difficulties of the exactions, the very perplexitie and doubtfulneſſe of the ſeale, ſeemed to purchaſe hatred to the moſt modeſt Prince. Next vnto this man both in ſkyl and age, were Apollonides and Eronius. After whom was Dioſcores, of great name in this Art, whoſe woorke when Plinie dyd ſet downe, I marueyle that he expreſſed not alſo his name. This is he that engraued the counterfayte of the Emperour Auguſtus, whiche he
vſed hym ſelfe ſo long as he liued, and after him many of the Emperours, ſuche reuerence they hare eyther to the countenance of ſo good a Prince, or woondred at the ſkyl of ſo cunnyng a woorkeman. But now that we haue diſcourſed thus muche of precious ſtones, whiche eyther nature hath yeelded whole and ſounde for your pleaſures, or art hath made hollow and engrauen for your delight, I demaund of thee this queſtion, how much more ought the brightnes of heauen, which is to be gotten without coſt or paine, delight thy minde? And not that ſo much, as he, who is the ſpring and fountaine of that light? Doo the radiant Carbuncles, the greene Smaragdes, the bright Saphyres, the whyte pearles, ſo much allure thee, that neither the brightneſſe of the Sunne and Starres, nor the greenneſſe of the earth & trees, nor the pureneſſe of the ayre and ſkie in the cleare mornyng, can mooue thy mynde? Ye ſtand am
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z
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d at the beholding of faces which the hand of man hath engrauen in ſtones, but ye wonder not at the cunning of that workeman, neither do ye honour him, ne ther do ye acknowledge him, although ye haue ſo many & ſo excellent meanes ſo to do, who hath made theſe precious ſtones, & the cunning, and the hands, and the eyes wherwith to behold them, to vnderſtand them, & to make them. O ye, that are euermore the imitatours of vile thinges, and alwayes the contemners of woorthy and excellent thynges.
Of Pictures, and painted Tables. The .xl. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Am delighted with pictures, and painted tables.
Reaſon.
A vaine delight, and no leſſe folly then hath raigned ſometyme in great perſonages, & no deale more tollerable then it hath ben in olde tyme. For euery euyl example is then worſt, when as eyther the weight of auctoritie, or of yeeres is ioyned vnto it. The force of cuſtome is great from whence ſoeuer it tooke beginning, and age as it aduaunceth good thinges to better, ſo doth it caſt downe euyl thinges to woorſe. But O, I would God, that ye that do far ſurpaſſe your auncetours in vaine thinges, would matche them in earneſt matters, and with them woulde eſteeme of glory
and vertue, with whom ye ſtand fondly gazing at Pictures without ende.
Ioy.
Truely I am woonderfully delighted with painted tables.
Reaſon.
O woonderfull madneſſe of mans minde, which woondreth at euery thing, ſauing it ſelfe, ſince there is nothing not only among all the woorkes of art, but alſo of nature, more woonderfull?
Ioy.
Painted tables delight mee.
Reaſon.
What mine opinion is herein, thou mayeſt perceiue in that whiche I haue ſayde before. All earthly delyghtes, if they were gouerned by diſcretion, would ſtyrre men vp to the heauenly loue, and put them in minde of their firſt original. For, I pray thee, who euer loued a riuer, and hated the head thereof? But you weltring heauily vpon the ground, ſtouping, and as it were faſtened to the earth, dare not looke vpwardes towardes heauen, and forgettyng the chiefe woorkeman, with marueilous pleaſure ye beholde the ſlender pictures of the Sunne and Moone, and determine where the paſſage is to the higheſt places, but there ye ende the boundes of your vnderſtanding.
Ioy.
I am ſpecially delyghted with painted tables, and Pictures.
Reaſon.
Thou conceiueſt delight in the pencill and colours, wherein the price, and cunning, and varietie, and curious diſperſing, doth pleaſe thine eye: euen ſo likewyſe the liuely geſtures of lyueleſſe pictures, and the vnmoueable motions of dead images, and countenaunces comming out of poaſtes, and liuely portraitures of faces, doo bryng thee into woondring, inſom
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ch as thou wilt almoſt thynke they would ſpeake vnto thee: and this is the onely danger in this behalfe, in that many great wittes haue been ouertaken by theſe meanes. So that, whereas the clowne and vnſkylfull perſon wyl with ſmall woondryng paſſe them ouer: the wyſer wyll repoſe hym ſelfe with ſighing and woondring. A cunning matter truly, howbeit it is not poſſible from the beginning to vnfold the fyrſt originall and encreaſe of this art, and the wonderfulneſſe of the woorkes, and the induſtrie of the woorkemen, the madneſſe of princes, and the vnreaſonable prices wherewith theſe haue been bought and brought from beyonde the ſeas, and placed at Rome, eyther in the Temples of the Goddes, or in the bed chambers of the Emperours, or in the common ſtreetes, or publique porches and galleries. Neyther was this ſufficient, but
that they muſt alſo apply their owne right handes, which of duety ought to haue been buſied about greater affayres, vnto the exerciſe of this art, which the moſt noble Philoſophers of all Greece had doone before: Whereby it came to paſſe, that among you the art of paintyng was eſteemed aboue all handie craftes, as a thyng more neere to the woorke of nature: And among the Grecians, yf ye wyll beleeue Plinie, it was accompted among the chiefee of the Liberal Artes. But I let paſſe theſe thinges, for that they are in a maner contrary to mine entended breuitie, and preſent purpoſe: and may ſeeme rather to miniſter infected humours to the ſickneſſe, whoſe cure I promiſed to vndertake, and by the excellencie of the thinges, to excuſe the madneſſe of the woonderers at them. Howbeit I ſayde yer whyle, that the greatneſſe of them that dyd erre, made not the errour the leſſe: but I touched that poynt the rather to this intent, that it myght appeare how great the force of that folly was, with whiche ſo many and ſo great wittes haue conſpired, vnto whiche alſo the prince of errour the common multitude, and long continuance, whiche is the engenderer of cuſtomes, and acutoritie, whiche is a great heape of all miſchiefes, are ioyned: ſo that the pleaſure and admiration thereof, is able priuily to remooue and withdrawe the minde from contemplation of higher matters. But yf theſe thynges that are counterfeited and ſhadowed with vayne colours doo ſo muche delyght thee, caſt vp thyne eyes vppon hym that hath adorned mans face with ſenſes, his minde with vnderſtandyng, the heauen with ſtarres, the earth with flowres, and ſo ſhalt thou contemne thoſe woorkemen whom thou woondredſt at.
Of Statues and Images. The .xli. Dialogue.
IOY.
BUt I take great pleaſure in Images.
Reaſon.
Theſe be ſundrie artes, but the madneſſe is one, & there is but one beginning of them both, & one ende, but diuers matter.
Ioy.
I delyght in ſtatues.
Reaſon.
Theſe come in ſhew more
neere vnto nature, then pictures: For they doo but appeare only, but theſe are felt to be ſounde and ſubſtantiall, and there theyr bodyes are more durable: Whiche is the cauſe that there remayne to this day in no place any pictures of men of auncient times, but ſtatues innumerable: Whereby this age in this point, as in many thynges els erronious, woulde ſeeme to haue been the fyrſt inuenter of pictures: or whether that becauſe it alleageth that it hath deuiſed ſomwhat whiche commeth neare to the fyrſt inuention thereof, beyng perfect and excellent in it, and in all kindes of engrauing, and dare boldly and impudently affirme, though falſly, that it is not inferiour to any, in grauing and caruing all ſortes of ſeales & ſtatues: ſeeing in very dtede they be almoſt al one art, or if they be diuers, they ſprang both from one fountayne, to wit, the art of drawing, & doubtleſſe are of one antiquitie, & flouriſhed at one tyme. For why, Apelles, and Pyrgoteles, and Lyſippus, lyued at one tyme, whiche may by this meanes be prooued, in that the great pride of Alexander of Macedonie, choſe theſe three together aboue the reſt, whereof the one ſhould paint him, the other engraue him, and the thyrde carue him: ſtrayghtly forbiddyng all other, vppon whatſoeuer cunnyng or aſſuraunce of ſkyll preſumyng, to meddle with expreſſyng the kynges face any maner of way: and yet was not this madneſſe leſſe then the reſidue. But euery diſeaſe is ſo muche the more daungerous, howe muche more ſtable and fixed the matter is whereof it proceedeth.
Ioy.
But I am delyghted in Images.
Reaſon.
Thynke not that thou erreſt alone, or that thou haſt no fellowes but the common people: For in tymes paſt howe great the dignitie hath been of ſtatues and images, and howe feruent the ſtudie and deſire of men was repoſed in ſuche pleaſures, the moſt diligent enquirie of Auguſtus and Vaſpaſian, and other Emperours, and Kynges, of whom it were impertinent and too long to intreate, & alſo of other noble perſonages of the ſecond degree, & induſtrious keepyng of them when they had founde them, and theyr ſundrie dedicatyng and beſtowing them, may ſufficiently declare. Hereunto alſo may be added, the great fame of the workemen, not raſhly ſpread abroade by the common people, or reported vpon dumbe workes,
but celebrated in the ſoundyng bookes of learned and approoued writers: whiche beyng ſo great, ſeemeth in no wyſe to be able to ſpryng from a ſmal roote. A great name commeth not of nothing, it muſt be great in deede, or ſeeme to be ſo, whereof great men doo ſeriouſly intreate. But all theſe thinges I haue anſweared before, and tende to this purpoſe, that thou mayeſt vnderſtande with what force ſo auncient and ſtout an errour muſt be reſiſted.
Ioy.
I conceyue pleaſure in ſundry ſtatues & images.
Reaſon.
There is one of theſe artes, whiche by the handy woorke doth imitate nature, men commonly call it framyng and faſhionyng. This art woorketh with waxe, playſter of Paris, and cleauing claye, whiche although among all the other artes that haue affinitie with it, it be more freendly, and come neereſt to vertue, or is leſſe enimie to modeſtie and thriftineſſe, whiche two vertues doo more allowe of imagies and ſtatues of Goddes and men to be made of earth, and ſuche lyke matter, then of golde and precious ſtone: Yet what delyght there is to be conceyued in looking vppon faces made of waxe or earth, I doo not vnderſtand.
Ioy.
I take delyght in noble ſtatues and images.
Reaſon.
I know the meanyng of couetouſneſſe: it is the price, as I ſuppoſe, and not the art that pleaſeth thee. I am ſure thou doeſt in minde eſteeme one image of golde of meane woorkemanſhyp, aboue many made of braſſe, and marble, and ſpecially of clay or other caſt ſtuffe, and not vnwyſely, as the preſent valuation of thinges nowe adayes requireth: and this is as muche to ſay, as to loue the golde, and not the ſtatue, whiche as it may be made noble of a vile matter, ſo may it be made rude of pure golde. How muche wouldeſt thou eſteeme of an image, whether it were the kinges of Aſſyria, whiche was made of golde threeſcore cubites long, which it was death not to adore, although there be many at this day that would adore it to haue it of their owne, or whether it were made of a great Topace of foure cubites long, of whiche thou readeſt that the Queene of Egypts image was made? a ſtrange thing to be ſpoken, I ſuppoſe thou wouldeſt not very muche enquire after the woorkeman that made it, but rather after the matter that it is made of.
Ioy.
Images and ſtatues cunningly wrought, delight mine eyes.
Reaſon.
Images and ſtatues ſomtime were the tokens
of vertues, but now they be enticementes of the eyes. They were erected in the honour and remembraunce of ſuche as had atchiued woorthy deedes, or voluntarily yeelded them ſelues vp vnto death from their common wealth: Suche as were decreed to be ſet vp in honour of the Embaſſadours that were ſlayne by the king of the Vet
•
i: ſuch as were erected in the honour of Scipio Africane, the deliuerer of Italye, whiche his moſt valiant courage, and woorthy modeſtie woulde not receiue, but whiche after his death he coulde not refuſe. They were erected in the honour of wiſe and learned men, the lyke whereof we reade was erected vnto Victorinus: and now adayes they are erected vnto ryche Merchantes, wrought of outlandiſh Marble, of great value.
Ioy.
Statues artificially wrought doo muche delight mee.
Reaſon.
Euery kinde of ſtuffe almoſt wyl admit cunning woorkmanſhip: but I perceyue how this thy delight is ful of wiſdome, and ioyned with the moſt noble matter. Howbeit I can not perceyue how there ſhoulde be any pleaſure in the golde, no although it were wrought by Phidias, or what worthineſſe there ſhoulde be in it, being but a droſſe of yt earth, although it be yelow, but by meanes of the Anduil, hammers, tongues, coales, inuention, handy labour. What thing may be wrought that is to be wiſhed of a man, or hath in deede any magnificencie in it, conſider with thee ſelfe.
Ioy.
I can not choſe but take great pleaſure in images.
Reaſon.
To take pleaſure in the wittie deuiſes of men, ſo it be modeſtly done, is tollerable, and ſpecially of ſuch as excel in wit: For vnleſſe malice be an hinderaunce, euery man doeth willingly reuerence that in another, which he loueth in him ſelfe. To take delight alſo in the images and ſtatues of godly and vertuous men, the beholding of which may ſtirre vs vp to haue remembrance of their maners & liues, is reaſonable, & may profite vs in imitating ye ſame. Prophane images alſo, although ſomtime they moue the nunde, and ſtyrre it vp to vertue, whilſt lukewarme mindes doo waxe hot with the remembraunce of noble deedes, yet ought they not to be loued or eſteemed of aboue reaſon and duetie, leſt they become eyther witneſſes of our foſlie, or miniſters of our couetouſneſſe, or rebellious to our fayth and true religion, and that moſt excellent commaundement of the Apoſtle, Keepe your ſelues from
Images. But truly, if thou beholde him in thy contemplation, who created the fixed earth, the moueable ſea, and turnyng heauen, who alſo hath repleniſhed the earth, not with feigned and counterfeite, but with true and liuing men and beaſtes, the ſea with fiſhes, the heauen with foules, I ſuppoſe that thou wylt as lytle eſteeme of Polycletus and Phidias, as of Protegenes and Apelles.
Of veſſels of Corinthe. The .xlii. Dialogue.
IOY.
WHO wyl not be moued with delyght vnto Corinthian veſſels?
Reaſon.
Earthly thynges can not moue him that is accuſtomed to heauenly: and euen ſo, yf theſe veſſels be compared with the heauenly treaſures, they be ſmal, they be nothing, they be but loathſomnes, and an heauie burthen. For how can the minde, whiche thinketh vpon it owne beginning, gape into the pittes of earth, or eſteeme of that which is digged out of them, whyle he beholdeth the Heauens, the Sunne, the Starres, & himſelfe, and is buſied in the contemplation of the moſt hygh creatour of all thinges.
Ioy.
I take pleaſure in Corinthian veſſels.
Reaſon.
Knoweſt thou not then, that thou takeſt pleaſure not onely in a colde and ſenſeles burthen of the earth, but alſo in the woorkemanſhyp of a ſmutchie and filthie woorkeman, and laſty, in the remnauntes and reliques of the Romane ſpoyles? Returne to hiſtories. When Mummius had by fine force taken the Citie of Corinth, and after the ſpoyle conſumed it with fire, al maner of images, as wel of golde, and ſiluer, as of braſſe, whatſoeuer by chaunce had eſcaped the handes of the conquerours, whereof that Citie in olde tyme had great plentie, were with lyke fire molten togeather: all kyndes of mettalles ran there flowing, as it were, in one channel, and by that meanes of al thoſe mettalles, there aroſe one moſt noble mettall, which was the beginning of theſe moſt p
•
ecious veſſels: & from the deſtruction of the Citie, ſprang foorth the name of laſciuiouſneſſe, not that the ſame madneſſe aroſe in that Citie whiche nowe
was fallyng, but the matter onely was prepared for the madneſſe that ſhould folowe hereafter, And by this meanes, Corinth was at that tyme the beginner of this madneſſe, which now commeth from Damaſcus: & from thence at this day are veſſels ſent, which wyll ſoone rauiſhe both your eyes and mindes.
Ioy.
I am delyghted in Corinthian veſſels.
Reaſon.
I ſhoulde marueile the more at thee, vnleſſe it were read in excellent good writers, howe that Auguſtus the Emperour, although he were a moſt modeſt and graue prince, yet was he notwithſtanding ſo inuaded, & dryuen headlong with this delyght, that he was thought to haue condemned certayne in the Triumuiral proſcription for none other cauſe then the deſyre of ſuche veſſels: inſomuche as there was an infamous libel faſtened vpon the ſtatue of this woorthie Prince, to his perpetual ignominie, wherein he was termed a Corinthiarian. And yf ye wyll beleeue mee, there was but ſmall difference in this reſpect, betweene this moſt excellent Prince, and the vileſt that euer was, Antonius, ſauyng that a leſſe cauſe mooued Auguſtus to doo an iniurie: and euery offence is the more greeuous, the greater the perſon is that offendeth, and the leſſe cauſe he hath to offende: Neither can the greatneſſe and power of the offender eſcape the woundes of tongues and pennes, or exempt them out of the iudgementes of men: but rather they doo ſharpen them, and prouoke them to farther reuenge. The pratlyng multitude ſpareth not the blemiſhes of kynges, and although they feare them in preſence, yet priuily they vſe their libertie, they hiſſe in dennes, and barke in darkeneſſe, and ſende foorth doubtfull voyces to the cloudes: they diſperſe ſharpe verſes in the ſtreetes, they clappe vp papers vppon ſtatues, they ſpeake by ſignes, they crye out in ſilence, they threaten with their eyes, and ſtrike with their tongues. Thus oftentymes great infamie groweth vppon ſmall cauſes, and vile dye tearmes, vppon honourable names. If this coulde happen to ſo great a Prince, what may priuate men hope for, who ought to embrace mediocritie, and abandon ſuperfluitle?
Ioy.
I take pleaſure in veſſelles of Corinth.
Reaſon.
If thy breaſt were ſhut vp againſt errour, and thyne eyes agaynſt bryghtneſſe, it myght eaſily appeare vnto thee, howe muche Potters veſſels are to be preferred
before Corinthian, and howe muche more eaſie to be gotten, pleaſant to be vſed, ſafe to be kept, and fyt to be employed, both about diuine and humane vſes. And truely as touchyng ſecuritie, yf this note of the Emperour Auguſtus be true, they whiche were proſcribed and condempned, ſhould haue lyued in greater ſafetie, yf they had been without Corinthian veſſelles. And as touchyng diuine ſeruice, that God is as mercyful vnto men when he is worſhypped with potters veſſels, it is not doubtful vnto me, nor vnto Seneca. But concerning humane vſe, although it be certayne that Tuberoes earchen veſſels by blinde voyces or ſcrutinie did hurt theyr maiſter, as a great rebuke and ſlaunder among the people, and thereby he had repulſe in the Pretorſhyp, & in the iudgement of Valerius Maximus, who doth popularly excuſe this deede of the people, they ſeemed vnwoorthy of ſuch a publique function: How be it, I am of opinion in this poynt with Seneca, who commendeth very much of them: for they are moſt agreable to the auncient ſparyngneſſe, and the manners of the Romanes, by whiche as the pryuate familie of a modeſt houſholder, ſo ought alſo the honeſt common wealth of a wel gouerned Citie to be guyded, that brydlyng theyr ſteppes, they may keepe the boundes of a wel ordred and peaceable ſtate vpon the earth. And therefore yf Helius Tubero in brynging foorth his earthen veſſels before the Chappel of Iupiter, whereby he conſecrated his frugalitie and ſobrietie, and as Seneca ſayeth, His pouertie in the Capitol, dyd offende the eyes of the wanton people, it was not the fault of the good Citizen, but of the tyme: for then al thynges be gan to declyne from the auncient ſtrayghtneſſe, to this effeminate delicateneſſe, whiche fyrſt began to wonder at, and fall in loue with cuppes and dyſhes of golde, and of precious ſtone, platters engrauen about the brym with braunches and
•
oures, Saltes with knottes and vynes round about, veſſels with tunnyng Iuie, and ſuche lyke deuiſes, whiche Galienus the Emperour ſent vnto Claudius that ſhoulde be Emperour after hym. Diuers other kyndes of madneſſe alſo whiche are attributed to magnificencie, but laſt of al nowe in theſe dayes, not only running yuie, or vyne braunches, or other curious braunches, but alſo the whole woods themſelues, with theyr in habitantes, as all
kyndes of trees, and wylde beaſtes, and foules, & mens faces, and whatſoeuer the eye hath ſeene, or the eare heard, or the mind imagined, are of long continuance nowe expreſſed and engrauen in gold and precious ſtone, of which we haue entreated a litle before. To be ſhort, pride ſo much encreaſeth, that gold waxeth vile. Not long ſince theſe Corinthian veſſels, which thou prayſeſt, were not regarded, and contempt, which myght haue ben prayſed concerning the true eſtimation of vyle thyngs, is now made diſcommendable by the falſe admiration of worthy thyngs.
Ioy.
But I am now in loue with Corinthian veſſels.
Reaſon.
Corinth which was burned with your fyrebrands, hath brent you agayne with her flan
•
e, and hath reuenged the raſing of her walles vpon your myndes: And this is no ſtrange thing, for oftentymes when ye haue ben the conquerers in forraigne wars, ye haue alſo ben ouercome by forraigne vices. Euen after this maner Scipio Aſiaticus, & Manilius Volſio, ye conquerers of Aſia, did ouerthrow you with the Aſian pleaſures, with beds of purple, & garments of gold, and exquiſite furniture for houſhold, and, which is moſt vyle, with banquets & cookes: ſo did Pompeius Magnus ouercome you with pearles and precious ſtones, and Mummius with painted tables & Corinthian veſſels, whyle your captaines triumphed ouer your enimies, and your enimies triumphed ouer your affections.
Ioy.
I am enamored with the vſe of Corinthian veſſels.
Reaſon.
The Corinthian or golden veſſels make the meate neuer a whit the better, neither the Samian the worſe: for this deſire of yours riſeth, not from the qualitie of the things, but from the ſickneſſe of your minds, or rather is it ſelfe a ſicknes of the mind: which to the end thou mayeſt the better cure, and ſo waxe whole, in ſteede of the care for ſo many vnprofitable veſſels, take one moſt profitable & holſome care vpon thee, that
•
hou maieſt know how to poſſeſſe thyne owne veſſell in honour, and holyneſſe, as it is wrytten, & not in the paſſion and deſire of hauyng.
Of ſtore of Bookes. The .xliii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue great ſtore of bookes.
Reaſon.
The occaſiō to ſpeake of them, is miniſtred in conuenient time: For as ſome get bookes for learning ſake, ſo do ſome others for pleaſure & boaſtyng.
There be other ſome alſo which do furniſh their chambers with this kinde of ſtuffe, which was inuented to furniſh the mynd withal, and vſe them in none other ſort then they do theyr Corinthian veſſels, or theyr painted tables, and images, & ſuche other lyke, wherof we entreated laſt. There be ſome alſo which, vnder the colour of bookes, do ſatiſfie theyr couetouſneſſe: theſe be the worſt ſort of men, which eſteeme not the true prices of bookes, & as they are in deede, but as they may ſel them. A vyle plague, and lately growne, and whiche ſeemeth but newly to haue crept in among the practiſes of the richer ſort, wherby there is growne one inſtrument and art of concupiſcence more.
Ioy.
I haue great plentie of bookes.
Reaſon.
A painful, but a pleaſant burden, & a delectable diſtraction of the mind.
Ioy.
I haue a marueilous multitude of bookes.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt therewithal alſo great plentie of traueyl, and ſcarcitie of quietneſſe: thy wit muſt be buſied this way, and that way, and thy memorie be troubled with this matter, & that matter. What wouldeſt thou haue me ſay? Bookes haue brought ſome men to knowledge, & ſome to madnes, whilſt they draw out of them more then they can diſgeſt. As fulnes ſometime hurteth the ſtomack more then hūger, ſo fareth it with wits: and as of meates, ſo lykewyſe of bookes, the vſe ought to be limitted according to the qualitie of him that vſeth thē. In al thinges, that which is to litle for one, is to much for another. And therfore a wiſe man ſeeketh not plentie, but ſufficiencie in al thynges. For the one of theſe, is many times hurtfull, the other, alwayes profitable.
Ioy.
I haue immoderate ſtore of bookes.
Reaſon.
We cal that immoderate, which hath neither ende nor meaſure, without which, what there is good and agreeable to it ſelfe in humane affayres, do thou conſider with thy ſelfe, yea, in thoſe thinges which are accompted beſt, vnmeaſurableneſſe and immoderatneſſe is to be eſchewed, and this ſaying of the C
••
nicke Poet is alwayes to be had before our eyes: Beware of to much.
Ioy.
I haue an ineſtimable many of bookes.
Reaſon.
Haſt thou moe then had Ptolomeus Philadelphus, king of Egypt, moe then the libraries of Alexandria, wherin it is wel knowne, were
〈◊〉
. M. bokes gathered togither, which being wt great ſtudy & diligence brought frō ſundry places, were hurut togither in one fire?
which Liuius tearmeth an excellent worke of the maieſtie and dilygence of a kynges trauayl, whom Seneca reprehendeth for that iudgement, ſaying, that it was not a woorke of the maieſtie and didigence of a king, but of his ſtudious laſciuiouſneſſe, and not ſo good neyther, but of a Kyng vaynely boaſtyng hym ſelfe in ſpectacles and ſhewes ſought of purpoſe. And yet notwithſtanding perhaps the ryches of a Kyng may excuſe the ſaying of Liuius. and the deede of Ptolomeus, and the Kynges entent forſeeyng and prouyding a farre of for publique vſes: whiche in this reſpect truely was commendable, in that he cauſed the holy ſcriptures, which are not only profitable for the worlde, but alſo neceſſary, with great trauayle and charge by choiſe men for that purpoſe, to be tranſlated out of the Hebrue into the Greeke tongue. But what ſhal a man ſay, when priuate men do not only match, but ſurpaſſe Princes in ſumptuouſnes? We reade how that Serenus Sammonicus, who was a man of wonderful knowledge, and yet had greater defyre of more learnyng, but had farre many moe bookes, to the number of threeſcore and two thouſand, who when he died, gaue them al to Gordianus the youger, vnto whoſe father he had been moſt freindly & familiar. Truely a great inheritance, & ſufficient for many wits, but able to ouerthrow one wit, who doubteth? what (I pray you) if this man had done nothing els in al his lyfe time, yf he had him ſelf neuer written any thing, or taken the toyle to ſearche, or had neuer gone about to take the payne to reade or vnderſtand any matter that was comprehended in all thoſe bookes: Had he not buſineſſe yenough to know the bookes themſelues, and theyr titles, and the names of the aucthours, and the formes, and number of the volumes? A woorthy occupation, whiche of a Philoſopher, maketh a booke keeper. Beleeue me this is not the way to nooryſh the wyt by writinges, but to ouerwhelme and kyl it with multitude, or els peraduenture after the maner of Tantalus, to torment the aſtonyſhed mynde with thyrſt, whiche taſteth nothyng, but gapeth after euery thyng.
Ioy.
I haue an innumerable multitude of bookes.
Reaſon.
And alſo an innumerable multitude of errours, ſome publyſhed by the wicked, ſome by the vnlearned. And thoſe of the fyrſt ſort, contrary to religion, godlyneſſe, and
the holy Scriptures, the other repugnaunt to nature, equitie, and good manners, & the lyberall ſciences, or Hiſtories, and the trueth of thynges doone, but al generally ſtriuyng agaynſt the trueth: and in them all, ſpecially the fyrſt, where greater matters are handled, and true thynges are myngled with falſe, the diſcernyng of them is harde and daungerous. And to admit that the integritie of aucthours were perfect & abſolute, what writer is able to remedie ignorance and ſlouthfulneſſe, whiche corrupt and confounde al thynges? For feare whereof, many excellent wyttes haue geuen ouer ſundry worthie workes, and our moſt lewde age is deſeruedly plagued with this punyſhment, whiche is careful of the Kytchyn, and negligent of learnyng, & encourageth Cookes, and not wryters. And therfore, whoſoeuer can a litle blot paper with ynke, and knoweth howe to holde a pen in his fyngers, ſhalbe counted a wryter, yea, although he be voide of all learnyng, without wyt, and deſtitute of knowledge. I doo not ſeeke nowe, nor complayne of Orthographie, whiche is long ſince peryſhed, I woulde to GOD they coulde wryte by one meanes or other indifferently that whiche they be wylled, then the weakeneſſe of the wryter woulde appeare, and the ſubſtaunce of the thynges not lye vnknowne. But nowe by meanes of their confuſed copies & regiſters, promiſing to write one thyng, they wryte ſo another, that a man cannot tell hym ſelfe what he wylled them to wryte. If Cicero or Liuius, and many other of the famous auncient wryters, ſhoulde come agayne into the worlde, but ſpecially Plinius the ſeconde, and reade theyr owne woorkes, woulde they vnderſtand, and not in many places doubt, whether theſe were theyr owne woorkes, or ſome barbarous wryter? Among ſo many ruins of humane inuentions, the holy Scripture remayneth, both by meanes of the more ſpeciall care of men, but chiefly by the expreſſe woorking of God the aucthour thereof, who defendeth his holy woorde, his ſacred Hiſtories, and diuine lawes, and geueth continuance vnto his inuentions. The moſt principall of all other artes doo peryſh, and the greateſt part of them are loſt. Thus of ſo great a loſſe there is no remedie, becauſe there is no perceyuyng of it, which in this caſe is no ſtrange thyng, for the great loſſes of vertues
and manners, are neglected. Nowe when ye prouyd for ſmal matters with ſuch diligence, ye accompt of the loſſe of learnyng among trifles, and there be ſome that reckon it among gayne. There was one of late, not in the fieldes or wooddes, but that which thou mayeſt the more marueyle at, in a great and moſte floryſhyng Citie of Italie, not a ſhephearde or a ploughman, but a Noble man, and of great credite among the people of the countrey where he dwelt, who ſware that he woulde geue a great ſumme of money, vpon condition there woulde neuer any learned man come in and dwel in the countrey where he inhabited. Oh wycked voyce of a ſtony hart. It is reported alſo, that Licinius was of the ſame mynd, and loathed learnyng, which (as it is written) he tearmed a common poyſon and peſtilence. Howbeit, perhaps his rude and clounyſhe byrth may excuſe his folly: But ſurely yf he had ben aduaunced to the ſtate of an Emperour, he woulde not haue abandoned that nature. For the ſaying of Horace is true. Fortune changeth not a mans kinde. But what ſhall I ſay of your noble men, who doo not only ſuffer learnyng to peryſhe, but pray and wyſh that it may ſo? Truely this contempt and hatred of ſo moſt excellent a thyng, wyll in ſhort tyme drowne you in the deapth of ignorance. And moreouer, not to wander from the purpoſe, the wryters are reſtrayned by no lawe, and allowed by no examination, and choſen by no iudgment: there is not ſo muche libertie geuen to carpenters, to Huſbandmen, to Weauers, not almoſt to any artificers, although in others it be but a ſmall danger, but in this, a great peryl: Neuertheleſſe euery man runneth to writing, without choiſe or diſcretion, and they that deſtroy all, haue aſſured rewardes. And this is not ſo much the fault of the writers, which accordyng to the common cuſtome of men do ſeeke after gayne, as of ſtudentes, and thoſe that are put in truſt with publique gouerment, who neuer had any care of ſuch matter, hauing forgotten what Conſtantinus gaue in charge to Euſebius of Paleſtine, to wit, that none ſhould write bookes, but ſuch as were of ſkill, and wel ſeene in the ſtudie of antiquitie, and very expert in the Art wherin they wryte.
Ioy.
I haue good ſtore of bookes.
Reaſon.
What yf thy mynde be not capable? Dooeſt thou remember Sabinus
in Seneca, howe he vaunteth in the ſkyll of his ſeruantes? What difference is there betweene thee and hym, but that thou art the more foole, and both of you bragge of that whiche is anothers: he, of his ſeruantes, which in deede were his owne, and thou, of the learnyng of thy bookes, whiche apparteyneth nothyng vnto thee? There be ſome that wyl ſeeme to knowe what ſo euer is wrytten in theyr bookes at home: and when there is mention made of any matter of learnyng, that booke, ſayth he, is in my ſtudie, ſuppoſyng that that were as muche to ſay, as it is here alſo in my breaſt, and ſo with a proude looke they ſay no more: A ridiculus kynde of people.
Ioy.
I haue abundaunce of bookes.
Reaſon.
Howe much rather had I that thou dyddeſt abounde in wyt, and eloquence, and learnyng, and ſpecially in innocencie and vertue? Howbeit, theſe thynges are not to be ſolde for money, as bookes are, and yf they were, I knowe not whether they ſhoulde fynde ſo many buyers as thoſe bookes doo: Thoſe furnyſh the walles, theſe the mynd, whiche foraſmuche as they are not ſeene with the eyes, men regard them not. But truely yf ſtore of bookes made men learned or good, then they that are the rycheſt men, myght be the beſt and learnedſt men: the contrary wherof we ſee commonly.
Ioy.
I haue bookes, whiche are meanes and helpes to learnyng.
Reaſon.
Take heede that they be not rather impedimentes: For as great multitudes of ſouldyers haue been vnto ſome an hynderaunce of wynnyng, ſo plentie of bookes haue ben a let vnto ſome of learnyng: and of ſtore, as it chaunceth, commeth ſcarcitie: but yf it be ſo, that a man haue them, they are not to be caſt away, but layde aſyde, and the beſt are to be vſed, and diligent heede to be taken, leaſt perhaps they whiche woulde profyte in tyme, may hynder out of ſeaſon.
Ioy.
I haue many, and ſundry bookes.
Reaſon.
The diuerſitie of wayes many tymes deceyueth the trauayler, and he that want aſſuredly in one path, was in doubt when he came to a croſſe way, and the incertentie of three or foure wayes meetyng togeather, is farre more great: and ſo it happeneth often tymes, that he that hath read one booke with effect, hath opened and turned ouer many without profyte.
There be many thynges burdenſome to them that learne, but to the learned, few woordes do ſuffice: to much is hurtful vnto both, but with ſtrong ſhoulders it is to be borne vp.
Ioy.
I haue gotten togeather a great many of excellent bookes.
Reaſon.
There is no man that I can nowe cal to remembraunce, that was famous for his multitude of bookes, beſides the Kyng of Egypt, of whom I ſpake before: which honourable name he wan, not ſo much by the number of his bookes, as by his worthie tranſtation of certayne of them. Doubtleſſe, a marueylous woorke of ſo many wittes, vnleſſe the wyt of one that came afterwarde had been a greater wonder: but yf thou ſeeke glory by bookes, thou muſt take another courſe, for thou muſt not haue them only, but know them, neyther are they to be committed to the Library, but to memorie, and not to be ſhut vp in the ful ſtudie, otherwiſe, no man ſhalbe more glorious then the publique librarie, or his owne ſtudie.
Ioy.
I haue many notable bookes.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt many tyed in chaines, who if they could breake away, and ſpeake, they woulde bring thee to the iudgment of a priuate priſon: then wyl they priuily weepe, and that for ſundry thynges, but ſpecially for this one thyng, for that one couetous perſon many tymes hath plentie of thoſe, which many that are ſtudious do want.
Of the fame of writers. The .xliiii. Dialogue.
IOY.
YEA, what ſay you vnto it, that I write bookes my ſelfe?
Reaſon.
A publique diſeaſe, contagious, and incurable. Euery man taketh vpon hym the office of writing, which belongeth but to fewe, and one that is ſicke of this diſeaſe infecteth many: It is an eaſie matter to enuie, and harde to imitate: ſo that the number of the ſicke encreaſeth dayly, and the ſtrength alſo of the ſyckneſſe waxeth more myghtie: euery day moe doo wryte euery day woorſe, by reaſon that it is an eaſyer matter to folow, then to ouertake. Very proper, and approued, and founde true by experience, is the ſaying of the wyſe man of the Hebrues: There is no ende of
wrytyng bookes.
Ioy.
I doo write.
Reaſon.
I woulde wyſhe that men coulde keepe them ſelues within their boundes, and that an order amongſt all thynges were obſerued, whiche by the raſhneſſe of men, is confounded: They ſhould write that haue ſkyll and are able, and other reade and heare. But nowe is it no ſmall pleaſure to the minde to vnderſtande, vnleſſe the proud hand make haſte alſo to pen and paper? and whoſoeuer doth vnderſtand, or thynke that he vnderſtandeth ſome ſmal peece of a booke, thinketh he hym ſelfe meete by and by to write bookes? I woulde that this one ſaying of our countrey man Cicero in the very beginning of his Tuſculane queſtions were engrauen in your memories, ſo that it myght be knowen vnto all that are in high degree, and place of lyght and knowledge: It may be, ſayth he, that a man may meane well, but yet is not able eloquently to vtter that whiche be meaneth. It foloweth alſo: But for a man to commit his meanyng and thought to writing, that is not able well to diſpoſe and ſet it foorth in comly order, neyther by any meanes to delyght the Reader, is the part of one raſhly abuſing both his leaſure, and learning. Theſe woordes of Cicero are moſt true, but this abuſe is nowe growen ſo common, that euery man taketh that to be ſayde to hymſelfe, whiche ſometyme was to that moſt holy baniſhed man, who wrote ſuche matter as he had learned out of the verie fountayne of trueth, and not out of the dryed puddles, ſayde, and oftentimes repeated this woorde: (Write.) Whiche commaundement al contemners of al preceptes doo obey: for all doo write. And yf, as I haue ſayd, there be ſo great danger in thoſe that write other mens bookes, what ſhall we thynke of them that write their owne, and them that be newe? Whereby they bring into the worlde doubtful and damnable artes and opinions, or that, which is the leaſt miſchiefe that they commit, they weerie men with theyr rude and vnpleaſaunt ſtyle, inſomuche as who ſo wanteth in them promptneſſe of witte, yf he lyſt to looſe his tyme and beſtowe the traueyle of his yeeres, he ſhall not want weerineſſe. This is the fruite (and none other) of your inuentions, to infect or affect, but ſeldome or neuer to refreſhe. Notwithſtandyng all men wryte bookes nowe adayes, and there was neuer ſuche ſtore of wryters and diſputers in any age, and neuer ſuche
ſcarcitie of thoſe that are ſkylful and eloquent. It chaunceth therefore that that hapneth vnto theſe mens bookes whiche Cicero ſayth in the ſame place, And therefore, ſayth he, they reade their bookes with their freendes, neither wyll any man touch them, but ſuch as woulde fayne haue the lyke libertie in writing graunted vnto them, This was rare in Ciceroes age, but nowe it is common. And euery man medleth with them, becauſe all woulde haue the ſame libertie. Thus theſe triflers, and pamphlet writers, commende, exhort, cheryſhe, and pricke foorth one another, and arrogate vnto them ſelues falſly the prayſes of other men in lyke caſes. Hereof commeth this boldneſſe in writers, and diſturbaunce of matters, and therefore pleaſe not thou thy ſelfe ouermuche in writing of bookes.
Ioy.
I wryte bookes.
Reaſon.
Perhappes thou mayeſt doo better in readyng them, and conuertyng that whiche thou readeſt into the rule and gouernment of thy lyfe: For the knowledge of learning is then profitable when it is applyed to purpoſe, and declareth it ſelfe in deedes, and not in woordes onely: otherwyſe that is often founde to be true whiche is written, Knowledge puffeth vp. To vnderſtande perfectly and ſpeedily, to remember many thynges and thoſe great alſo exactly, to vtter them comly, to write them cunningly, to pronounce them ſweetely: vnleſſe all theſe be referred vnto our lyfe, what be they other then the inſtrumentes of vayne braggerie, and vnprofitable labour, and foolyſh ianglyng?
Ioy.
I write bookes.
Reaſon.
Perhappes it were better for thee to goe to Plough, to keepe Sheepe, to be a Weauer, to play the Mariner. Many whom nature hath made Handicraftes men, in deſpite of her, haue become Philoſophers: And contrariwyſe, fortune hath kept vnder foote ſome whiche were borne in the feeldes, or vnder hedges, or vppon the ſhoppe boordes and ſtaulles of Artificers, or the nettyng of Shyppes, whiche were apt to haue been Philoſophers. Whereby it commeth to paſſe, that they that are ignoraunt of the cauſes doo woonder, yf as in the myddes of the Sea, or Countrey, in the Wooddes, and Shoppes, there be founde ſharpe and quicke wittes, when as in the Schooles there be dull and blockyſhe: For yf nature be wonne, ſhe is hardly wonne.
Ioy.
I write earneſty.
Reaſon.
Howe muche more earneſtly haue ſome written in fore tymes, whoſe heate is ſo extinguiſhed, that it were vnknowen whether euer they had written or noe, vnleſſe other had written ſo of them. No humane woorke endureth alwayes, and mortall labour maketh no immortall thyng.
Ioy.
I wryte much.
Reaſon.
Howe muche more haue other written? Who can recken the woorkes of Cicero, or Varro? Who can recite the bookes which Titus Liuius or Plinius hath written? There is one Grecian, who wrote, as it is ſayde, ſixe thouſande bookes. O feruent ſpirite, if this be true, O long and quiet leaſure? Truely if it be a buſineſſe of great trauell to write well one or two bookes: that one man ſhoulde wryte ſo many thouſande, it is not ſo eaſie to beleeue, as ſtrange to wonder at: Howbeit writers of credite doo report it, whom it were hard not to beleeue, who ſay that they haue not onely hearde ſo, but alſo ſeene them, and that more is, knowne it to be true, for that them ſelues haue read the bookes: whiche yf it be a maruelous matter that one man coulde reade ſo many, is it not more marueyle that one man coulde write them all? It were ouerlong to repeate what men amongſt you, and amongſt the Gretians haue written, and what they haue written among whom none hath been fully fortunate to the full accompliſhment of his ſtudie: but that ſome part of the one, and a great part of the other, and ſome, are wholy periſhed, and therefore looke what thou canſt prognoſticate of thyne owne ſtudies.
Ioy.
I wryte, that is myne onely delyght.
Reaſon.
If it be to exerciſe thy witte, and in writing vnto others to inſtruct thy ſelfe, yf to forget the tyme, and to the intent that by the remembraunce of that whiche is paſt thou mayeſt auoyde the preſent weeriſomeneſſe, I doo excuſe thee, and yf thou doo it to the intent to cure thy ſecret and incurable diſeaſe of wrytyng, then doo I take pitie vppon thee. For there be ſome, yf thou knoweſt not ſo much, which would not write, but becauſe they can not leaue of, and running as it were headlong downe an hyll, and vnwilling to ſtay, are forcibly caried away with that deſire.
Ioy.
I haue a great courage to write.
Reaſon.
They ſay there be infinite kinds of Melancholie. Some caſt ſtones, ſome write bookes,
and to write ſo, vnto one is the beginnyng of madneſſe, and to another the ende.
Ioy.
I haue, and doo write much.
Reaſon.
If it be to profi
•
e poſteritie, there is nothing better: If to gette a name only, there is nothing more vayne.
Ioy.
I haue written muche.
Reaſon.
O notable madneſſe, and may we marueyle then yf paper be deerer then it was wout to be?
Ioy.
I write, and thereby I looke for fame.
Reaſon.
As I ſayde erewhyle, perhaps it were better for thee to digge, and goe to plough, and thereby to hope for a good Harueſt: for it is ſalfer ſowing in the ground, then in the winde. For the ſtudie of fame, and earneſt trauell in writyng, as it hath aduaunced the renowme of many, ſo hath it ſent ouer innumerable to be fooles and beggers in their olde age, and ſhewed them bare and babblyng ſpectacles to the common people. For whyle ye be writing, fyt tyme for better traueyles eſcapeth away: and beyng rauiſhed, and forgetting your ſelues, ye marke not ſo muche, vntyll at laſt olde age and pouertie awake ye.
Ioy.
Notwithſtanding, I write for deſire of fame.
Reaſon.
A ſtrange deſire, for paynes, to ſeeke winde: Truely A had thought, that Saylers only had wiſhed for winde.
Of Maiſterſhyp. The .xlv. Dialogue.
IOY.
BVT I haue taken the degree of a Maiſter.
Reaſon.
I had rather thou haddeſt gotten learnyng, for there is nothyng more ſhamefull, then rude and vnlearned Maiſterſhyppe.
Ioy.
I am woorthyly made a Maiſter.
Reaſon.
Thou canſt not woorthyly be made a Maiſter, vnleſſe thou haſt been a ſcholler: and neceſſarie it is that thou haue ſhewed thy ſelfe duetifull, lowly, and willing to learne, or els thou haſt gone aſtray out of the way that leadeth to Maiſterſhyp: although I am not ignorant how that ſome haue riſen to the higheſt degree of knowledge without a Maiſter, whiche certaine excellent men of great name haue reported and written of them ſelues: but their traueyle, their wit, their deſire
to learne, their intent, their diligence, and continuaunce ſtoode vnto them in ſteede of a Maiſter, neither wanted they an inward Maiſter in ſilence, Howheit, I ſpeake nowe of the common ſort.
Ioy.
I am called a Maiſter.
Reaſon.
The falſe name of Maiſterſhyppe, hath hindred many from beyng true Maiſters in deede: and whylſt they beleeued euery body of them ſelues, more then them ſelues, and were counted to be that, whiche they were not, they happened not to be that which they myght haue been.
Ioy.
I haue the tytle of a Maiſter.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt ſeene a Tauerne, wherein was ſowre wine, freſhly decked foorth with Pictures and flowres, where the thyrſtie wayfaring man myght be deceyued. But is the Vintener alſo deceyued by his owne craft? Truely there be ſome ſo accuſtomed to deceitfulneſſe, that by long vſe of deceyuing others, at length they begin to deceyue them ſelues: and that whiche long tyme they haue been perſwading others, in the ende they perſwade them ſelues: and that whiche they knowe to be falſe, they beleeue to be true. Glorie thou as muche in thy Maiſterſhyppe as thou wylt. But yf it haue chaunced vnto thee woorthyly, it is no ſtrange thing: yf vnwoorthyly, it bringeth theſe two miſchiefes with it: the one, that it maketh thee aſhamed to learne: the other, that it maketh thine ignoraunce the more knowen.
Of ſundry titles of Studies. The .xlvi. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Am adorned with many and ſundrie titles.
Reaſon.
There is great vanitie of boughes, but no fruite.
Ioy.
I abounde with ſtore of titles.
Reaſon.
If with true titles, it is a painfull burden: yf with falſe, it is filthie and ſhamefull. And what neede a man to ſeeke for ſuche titles, in whiche there is eyther toyle or ignominie? Vertue beyng contented with one, or no title at all, is a ſufficient title to her ſelfe.
Ioy.
I haue deſerued to be a Maiſter of Philoſophie.
Reaſon.
Philoſophie promiſeth not wyſedome, but the loue of wyſedome. Whoſoeuer therefore wyll haue this, he getteth it by louyng. This title is not harde and paynefull, as ſome ſuppoſe. If thy loue be true, and the wyſedome true whiche thou loueſt, thou ſhalt be a true Philoſopher in deede: For none can knowe or loue the true wiſedome, but pure and godly mindes. And therefore it commeth to this poynt, whiche is wrytten, (Godlyneſſe is wyſedome.)
Your Philoſophers, ſtandyng in contempt and ignoraunce of this opinion, fell vnto brablyng and bare Logike. And therefore when Diuines raſhly entreate of GOD, and Philoſophers of Nature, they circumſcribe his moſt mightie Maieſtie with triflyng argumentes, and preſcribe lawes vnto God, that laugheth and mocketh at their fooliſhe preſumption: but theſe diſpute in ſuch ſort of the ſecretes of nature, as yf they came lately out of heauen, and hadde been of Goddes priuie counſayle, forgettyng that whiche is written: Who knoweth the Lordes meanyng? or who was his counſeller? Not regardyng alſo, or hearyng Saint Ierome, who often and by many ſtrong argumentes in the ſame booke, wherein he bewayleth his brothers death very preciſely and briefely: Philoſophers, ſayth he, diſputyng of heauen. ſpeake they knowe not what.
Ioy.
I profeſſe many Artes.
Reaſon.
That is an eaſie matter, but to knowe many is very harde: for confeſſyng, is more ſafe then profeſſyng: The one is a token of humilitie and repentaunce, the other of lyghtneſſe and inſolencie. For they that doo confeſſe, deſerue pardon more eaſily then they that doo profeſſe knowledge.
Ioy.
I haue obteyned the tytle of Diuine and Humane wyſedome.
Reaſon.
Wyſedome wanteth not tytles, ſhe is ſufficiently knowen of her ſelfe. Who euer lyghted a Candle to goe ſeeke for the Sunne? Many with theſe tytles haue been obſcured, and without them haue become renowmed. Oftentymes there hath been none for good, but ſome notable ſigne hung foorth, where haue been euyl wares to ſell.
Ioy.
What ſay you to this, that I haue won a poeticall garlande about my
head?
Reaſon.
There remayneth yet one labour, to ſeeke the trueth, and this traueile alſo is double, to ſeeke, and to ſet foorth, and to feigne to the delight of the eare it is a great matter, harde, difficult, and therefore very rare. They that are woorthily called Poetes in deede, doo apply them ſelues to both, but the common ſort neglect the firſt, and are contented to vſe deceite and colourable meanes.
Ioy.
I haue obteyned the rare glorie of Poetrie.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt found a meane in reſpect whereof thou mayeſt neglect the common wealth, and thine owne priuate wealth likewyſe, thou haſt ſought alſo a way vnto pouertie, vnleſſe that dame Fortune of her owne voluntarie liberalitie, wyl largely beſtowe ryches vppon thee, thou haſt moreouer ſought out the meanes to ſeeme vnto ſome mad, and vnto ſome inſolent.
Ioy.
I haue wonne the Baye garland vnto my ſelfe.
Reaſon.
The Baye is a moſt flooriſhyng and greene tree, when it is firſt gathered, and vnleſſe it be watered with a pregnant wit and diligent ſtudie, it wyl wither immediatly.
Ioy.
I haue gotten the Laurell garland.
Reaſon.
When a man hath taken paynes, he hath wonne alſo enuie withall, whiche is the rewarde eyther of ſtudie, or of warfare. That ſlender bough hath purchaſed nothing to thy mynde, but onely a vayne ſigne to thy head, ſhewyng thee vnto many, who thou haddeſt better had neuer knowen thee. For what hath it doone, other then layde thee open to the teeth of the enuious? Theſe notable tokens of knowledge, haue hurt many, both in peace and warre.
Ioy.
I profeſſe the Arte of Oratorie.
Reaſon.
This is ſtrange which I heare: For it ſeemeth that of late it is growen out of vſe, ſo great and innumerable are the thynges whereof it conſyſteth, that there haue alwayes been fewer good Oratoures, then excellent Poetes. And therefore ſome haue ſayde, that it is the proper duetie of an Oratour, to be able to ſpeake copiouſly and trimly of euery matter that is propoſed. Although this opinion be reiected as moſt arrogant, notwithſtandyng of howe many thynges an Oratour ought to entreate of, although not of euery thyng, in applying a certayne artifitiall and ſweete eloquence in euery thyng whereof he ſpeaketh, whiche of it ſelfe is a great matter, yf thou conſyder
of it vprightly, thou wylt be amazed, and perhappes thou wylt repent thee of thy raſhe profeſſion: leaſt thou beware that whyleſt thou wylt goe about to ſeeme to knowe all thyng, thou appeare to knowe nothyng, and as it often chaunceth vnder the profeſſion of great ſkyl, thy hidden ignoraunce do neceſſarily appeare.
Ioy.
I am a profeſſour of the liberal Artes.
Reaſon.
This matter many tymes conteyneth in it more boldneſſe, then learnyng. A mans lyfe is too ſhort for any one Arte: and art thou ſufficient for them all? One Art ſufficeth one wit, with ſweating and toyling to attaine to the toppe thereof. To caſte of many, as much as neceſſitie requireth, is not amiſſe, and more modeſtie it is to knowe it, then to profeſſe it. I wyll alſo adde this, whiche hath ſeemed true vnto the beſt learned, that it neuer yet happened vnto any of the moſt excellent and famous learned men to be throughly and abſolutely perfect in any one Art. And as touching Rechorike only, this ſaying of Seneca is well knowen, Eloquence ſayth he, is a great and manifolde matter, and was neuer ſo fauourable to any, that it hapned wholly vnto hym: he is happie enough, that hath atteined to ſome one part therof. This, by what men, and what maner witneſſes he prooueth it to be true, thou haſt hearde, whiche beyng ſo, let theſe numbers of profeſſours whiche are almoſt matche to the common multitude, both in rudeneſſe and multitude, conſyder with them ſelues what they doo, and whereabout they goe, whiche are not contented with one part, nor with one Art, but without diſcretion inuade them all. O woonderfull confidence and preſumption: but it is now common.
Ioy.
What wyll you nowe ſay concernyng the profeſſions of Phiſicke and Lawe?
Reaſon.
Let thy patientes and clientes make aunſweare to this. What dyd euer theſe titles auayle them to the health of their body, or gaining of their cauſes? Perhappes they haue procured thy profite, & for this cauſe ye hunt after artes, and the titles of artes, to the intent that what is wanting in learnyng, may be ſupplied in degrees and apparell, and that the ſaying of the Satyrical Poet may beverified, The Scarlet, and the Iewelles beſet with Amethiſtes, doo ſell the Lawyer. Which thyng woulde appeare to be true, yea, yf the auncient Rethoricians returned agayne into the worlde: for no man woulde geue vnto Cicero
two hundred crownes, vnleſſe he woare on his fynger a great ryng of golde. To be ſhort, let this he vnto thee the ſumme of all that hath been ſpoken of, to wyt, that there be ſome men of rare diſpoſition, whoſe ſtudies are ſound and honeſt, the endes whereof are trueth and vertue. This is the knowledge of thynges, and the amendment of manners, and either the ornament of this mortall lyfe, or the entrance to the eternall. As for the rablement of the reſidue, whereof the number is great, ſome of them hunt after glorie, ſome a glittering, but a vaine rewarde, but to the greater ſort, the onely reſpect of money is their ende, which is not onely a ſmal reward, but alſo a filthy, and not woorthie the trauaile, nor match to the toyle of a gentle minde: in al theſe reſpectes, as I haue ſayde, the title and apparel is not to be contemned, for it is effectuall vnto that whereunto it is appoynted: for why? the mindes and iudgementes almoſt of al mortal men, ſpecially of the common multitude, whiche are deſtitute of this meane, are deluded with ſhadowes. Moſt matters are gouerned by opinion. But for them that are geuen to vertue, to glory in titles, is not only ſtrange and diſſonant, but alſo (as Iiudge) impoſſible.
Ioy.
I profeſſe many thynges.
Reaſon.
It were better to doo one good deede, then to promyſe many. And men were in good caſe, yf ſo be they were ſuche as they profeſſe them ſelues to be.
Of the Tytles of buſineſſe, and affayres. The .xlvii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I AM the Kynges Procurer.
Reaſon.
Then art thou the peoples enimie.
Ioy.
I am the Procurer of the Exchequer.
Reaſon.
Then art thou the common wealthes enimie.
Ioy.
I folow the Kyngs buſyneſſe.
Reaſon.
It is painful for a man to folowe his owne buſyneſſe: What is it then, thynkeſt thou, for hym to folow another mans, ſpecially theyrs that are of myght, whom to pleaſe, is perpetual ſeruitude, to diſpleaſe, danger, heauy lookes, and punyſhment redy for a ſmall offence?
Ioy.
I folow the kyngs buſyneſſe.
Reaſon.
Thou
haſt an accompt to yeelde to an hard iudge, which thou ſhalt ſcarce be able to make euen with the ſpoyle of al thy goodes, with hate of thy ſelfe, and greeuous offence.
Ioy.
I ſolicite the kynges buſines.
Reaſon.
Take heede leaſt, while thy ſolliciting is difficult, thyne accompt be yet harder, and ſo inextricable, that as we haue ſeene it chaunce in many, it entrap thy patrimonie, fame, and lyfe.
Ioy.
I am the kynges Procurer.
Reaſon.
Thou muſt needes diſpleaſe many, and laſt of all thine owne Lord and Maiſter, and whiche is moſt dangerous, GOD hym ſelfe, and for the kynges ſmall commoditie, the great diſcommodities of the Realme, and exceedyng damages of the people, muſt be diſſembled, or procured.
Ioy.
I am made the Kynges Procurer.
Reaſon.
So ſoone as euer this odious office began to touche the threſholde of thyne houſe, euen that day thou beganſt to leaue to lyue for thy ſelfe, from thencefoorth thy libertie, thy quietneſſe and pleaſure are departed. In ſteede of theſe, are ſeruitude. payne, buſineſſe, feare, ſorowe, trouble, and bytyng cares, come in place: nowe art thou not a lyue, although thou breath: for the lyfe of ſuch as are buſie, is death, who beyng al of them in miſery, yet are they in moſt miſerable caſe whiche are buſied in other mens matters, ſpecially in the affayres of Kynges, Tyrantes, and great perſonages.
Ioy.
I am a Iudge.
Reaſon.
Iudge ſo, as though thou ſhouldeſt foorthwith be iudged by another. There is one iudge of all men, and one incorrupt iudgement ſeate: Before this, ſhal all ye mortall men appeare, what neede ye then to haue the ſkyn of the falſe iudge nayled vppon the iudgement ſeate, or to haue any barbarous admonition to doo iuſtice? Euery Iudge ſytteth in that ſeate, where if falſe iudgement ſhalbe geuen, neyther money, nor fauour, nor falſe wytneſſes, nor ſiniſter entreatynges, nor vayne threates, nor eloquent Patrones, ſhall auayle hym.
Ioy.
I am one of the Conſuls of my countrey.
Reaſon.
A very difficult glory. It is a rare matter ſo to geue counſayle, that thou mayeſt at once both profite and pleaſe, that there may be trueth in woorde, fayth in counſel, ſcilence in that whiche is committed, ſweetneſſe in ſpeache: fortune ſhall gouerne the euent, and the euent ſhall purchaſe credite to the counſayle.
Ioy.
I am
gouernour of a Citie.
Reaſon.
Thou leadeſt an vnbridled beaſt, and as Horace tearmeth it, that hath many heades, with a ſmall twyne, and gouerneſt a great ſhyppe alone, that is toſſed with hugie waues. A litle houſe is hardly guyded, how difficult therefore it is to gouerne a whole Citie, ſee thou: Hadſt thou ſo great neede of trouble, or ſo litle at home, that thou haſt vndertaken the publique? Yea moreouer, it is not only an office of difficultie, but alſo a vyle function, inſomuche as the Satyrycal Poet tearmeth the gouernour of a Citie, a Stewarde, or Baylyffe, notyng therby the ſtate of theſe tymes. If then he were a Baylife or Huſbandman, what is he now other then a Woodryfe, or Woodman? At that tyme Rome began to be a vyllage, and nowe it is a Wood.
Ioy.
I am a Preſident of a Prouince.
Reaſon.
Beyng condempned vnto an honorable exile, thou haſt exchaunged priuate quietneſſe, for forraigne carefulneſſe: looke for no reſt or pleaſure. The ſtate of Preſidentes is bytter and troubleſome, they are forbydden playes and feaſtes vppon holy dayes, theyr doores are ſhut agaynſt gyftes, and open to contentions, theyr houſes are voyde of paſtymes, and ful of complayntes and chydynges, what ſo euer is a myſſe, whatſoeuer out of order, or out of ſquare, throughout the whole Prouince, there it muſt be handled and amended, an harde caſe: for how difficult a matter it is to amend many, in this appeareth, that very fewe doo amende them ſelues.
Of titles of warres, warfare, and Cheifteinſhip. The xlviii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I HAVE receyued the honour of the warlyke Gyrdle.
Reaſon.
Seemed it vnto thee that thy lyfe had in it to fewe diſcommodities alredy, vnleſſe thou hadſt learned alſo the Art of warfare, by meanes wherof thou myghteſt alwayes remayne eyther vnquiet, or without honour, or open to dangers, or ſubiect to contempt.
Ioy.
I profeſſe warfare.
Reaſon.
Ye profeſſe that when ye are borne, and therefore what neede you otherwiſe to profeſſe it:
One armeth his body with harneſſe, another his mynde with deceits, another his tongue with eloquēce. There is not one of you vnarmed: one ſoweth, another buildeth, another declaimeth, another pleadeth cauſes, one goeth on foote, another rideth on horſback or in a Couch, one runneth, another ſaileth, one commaundeth, another obeyeth. There is neuer an one of you ydle: what ſtrange kynde of warfare is this? One man lyueth in the Campe, another in the iudicial Court, one in the ſchooles, another in the wooddes, one in the fieldes, another vpon the Sea, one in the Palace, another at home, one ſpendeth his lyfe abrode in trauayle, al are at warfare, and not men only, but Horace ſayth, that the Whelpe alſo is at warfare in the wooddes. And truely of them that goe to warfare there be many ſortes, but the warfare it ſelfe is but of one kynde, to wyt, mans lyfe vppon the earth: whiche he that defyned to be warfare, truely ſeemeth vnto me to haue weyghed with deepe and vpryght iudgement, yf ſo be that he had added battaile to this warfare.
Ioy.
I am preſt to goo armed into the warres.
Reaſon.
Why dooeſt thou arme thy ſelfe outwardly? The warre is within the mynde, that is, whiche the vyces do beſiege and ouerthrowe: What neede weapons in this caſe, vnleſſe they
〈◊〉
worne for the ornament of the body, and not for defence of the mynde? There be ſome that ſay, that there is no ſight more gallant then to ſee an armed man: but what brauery there is in an armed mans breſt and head, more then in that whiche is peaceable and vnarmed, I cannot perceyue. But foraſmuch as thou art carryed away with this delyght, goo to, gyrde thy body with armour, receyue the ſhewres and Sun vpon thy Helmet, take vnto thee thy weapons, couer thy ſelfe with thy ſhielde, and whyle thou art ſleepyng at home, thou ſhalt be alwaked by Alarme, and thynkeſt thou haſt wonne ſome great preſ
••
ment, but thou waſt deceyued, and haſt choſen to thy ſelfe a dangerous and blooddy trade of lyuing. Hope hath many deceiptes, and there be, I confeſſe, many cheynes whiche drawe the myndes of thoſe into deſtruction, whiche with greedyneſſe haue vnaduyſedly ſought after that good, whiche all doo deſyre and couet. Neyther doo I deny, but that ſome haue by ſeruice in the warres atteyned vnto very great ryches, and been
aduaunced to great Empires: but beleeue me, more haue fallen into pouertie, come to impriſonment, ſeruitude, violent & ſodaine death, by meanes thereof. Thou, ſince thou art ſo diſpoſed to profeſſe thy ſelfe a ſouldyer, vnleſſe thou wylt diſgrace thy profeſſion, make alwayes accompt of thy lyfe as yf thou were continually in dying, and let that Emperial voyce euermore thunder in thyne eares, Learne to ſtrike, Learne to dye. One ſyllable long or ſhort ſhall varie thy deedes and alter that caſe with thee, for either thou ſhalt kyl, or be kylled, and therefore it behooueth thee at al tymes, and in al places, to make thy ſelfe redy. Theſe Artes are thy delyte. Hearken vnto the Satyricall Poet, where he ſpeaketh, and reciteth the rewardes of warfare, where hauyng rehearſed an innumerable fort, he geathereth notwithſtandyng verie fewe, among which, the fyrſt and chiefe is, Libertie to offende: A rewarde truely not ſo much to be deſyred of good men, as to be accepted by the armed lawes, whiche among armour and weapons are put to ſcilence.
Ioy.
I haue ſent my ſonne foorth to the warres.
Reaſon.
It is almoſt commonly ſeene, that the ſonne of a ſouldyer, is hym ſelfe a ſouldier alſo. For the father can leaue none other inheritance to his ſonne then he hath, to wyt, his Bowe and Arrowes, his Peece, his Shielde, his Swoorde and Warre, and that alſo which maketh vp the game, his gylden ſpurres. And this whiche we haue ſayde to the father, the ſonne may thynke it ſpoken to hym ſelfe.
Ioy.
Beyng a Captayne in the warres, I am become
•••••
s with victories.
Reaſon.
Howe muche better were it, that beyng a gouernour in peace, thou becameſt famous in vertues.
Ioy.
I haue ſuſteyned many warres.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt bereeued thy ſelfe and many others of reſt and quietneſſe, a woorthye woorke.
Ioy.
I am famous for victories and triumphes.
Reaſon.
Many tymes euyll is more knowne then good, and a darke tempeſt more ſpoken of then a fayre Sunſhyne day. To conclude, thou haſt prouided titles for thy Tumbe, talke for the people, and nothyng for thy ſelfe.
Of the friendshyppe of Kynges. The xlix. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue wonne the friendſhyp of Kynges.
Reaſon.
True friendſhyp among men is rare, and thou fancieſt to thy ſelfe that thou haſt wonne the friendſhyp of Kynges, whom the excellencie of their eſtate, & the loftineſſe of theyr minde, maketh them cōmonly the contemners of theyr inferiors.
Ioy.
I am beloued of kynges.
Reaſon.
I perceyue then that thou careſt not for thy ſoule, vertue, fame, quietneſſe, reſt, & ſecuritie: for the faſhion of moſt kyngs is wel knowne, they ſcarcely loue any, but ſuche as ſettyng al other thynges apart, wyll make them ſelues the bondſlaues and miniſters of theyr crueltie, luſt, and auarice. And therefore, yf thou be beloued of Kynges, there is no enquyryng farther of thee, thou litle careſt for thy ſelfe.
Ioy.
It is by meanes of my goodneſſe and vertue that I am beloued of Kynges.
Reaſon.
What anſwereſt thou then to Saluſt? For Kynges,
ſayth he, are more ſuſpitious of good men, then of euyll, and alwayes they ſtand in feare of other mens vertues.
Ioy.
In reſpect of good qualities, I am beloued of my Prince.
Reaſon.
Of what qualities, I pray you: Haukyng, or Huntyng? Concernyng theſe I reprooued thee in a certayne diſcourſe not long ſince, of warfare, whereof we diſputed laſt: Which vnleſſe it be commended by large bloodſhed, and great daungers, it deſerueth not the name of warfare, but of warlie cowardice, not onely in the iudgment of kynges, but alſo of the common people.
Ioy.
The kyng loueth me for my conditions ſake.
Reaſon.
It is for thy vanitie, or daunger: or perhaps for ſome crimes that are in thee, murder, poyſonyng, vauderie, treaſon, flatterie, & lying, comman plagues, whiche dayly cuſtome in thee excuſeth, and vrbanitie commendeth: For theſe be the moſt fytteſt meanes to wyn the good wyl of ſome kynges, to whom there is nothyng more hateful then vertue & learning. By theſe therfore there is no hope to purchaſe theyr fauour, which are rather the cauſe of their hatred: thus is peace confirmed betweene wyſedome and fortune.
Ioy.
I am a great man with the kyng.
Reaſon.
Art
thou greater then Lyſimachus was with Alexander, or Seianus with Tiberius? the greatneſſe and fall of both whom, thou knoweſt, although writers doo vary concernyng the fyrſt of them: I let paſſe others, the ſtory is long.
Ioy.
I am welbeloued of my King.
Reaſon.
It were better he knewe thee not, and peraduenture more profitable that he hated thee: for then thou ſhouldſt auoyd the danger which now thou foloweſt. Worſe is the flatteryng voyce of the fouler when he calleth the foules into his net, then the noyce of the ploughman that maketh them afrayde.
Ioy.
My Kyng loueth me well.
Reaſon.
There are ſome of whom a man may doubt, whether theyr loue be more dangerous then theyr hatred, theſe are worſe then ſerpentes, in whom there is poyſon myxt with medicine, but in theſe men there is nothyng but peſtilent or hurtful, for whether they loue or hate, the miſchiefe is almoſt all one, ſauyng that theyr hate dryueeth away, and theyr loue deteyneth. And to be ſhort, there is nothyng more vnquiet and dangerous, then the friendſhyp of Princes, vnleſſe it were the gouernment of a kyngdome it ſelfe, although I am not ignorant of that danger alſo, which many haue wyſhed for in vayne, and often haue bought it ful deare, and obteined it with great peryl: ſuch is the trade of men. Thus one danger is procured by another, one with many, and with great the greateſt. A ſtrange matter: a great good thyng that commeth freely is contempned, a greater euyl with great euylles is ſought for.
Ioy.
I hope that my Prince loueth me.
Reaſon.
That whiche thou hopeſt, thynke what maner of thyng it is, a brittle, waueryng, & frayle foundation, which the often falles of Princes do declare: a cloudie, troubleſome, and vnquiet aduauncement, which the ſorowful, buſie, and dangerous lyfe of princes proueth to be true. Take heede therefore where thou buyldeſt: for lyke as the fortune of Princes, ſo theyr wylles and lykyng alſo is alwayes vncertayne, variable, and inconſtant, although notwithstandyng yf theſe thynges were permanent, there were no goodneſſe in them, but rather much hurt and euyl.
Ioy.
I haue with great payne and danger, deſerued the loue of my King.
Reaſon.
Oh, how much more ſafely and eaſily myghteſt thou haue purchaſed the fauour of the Kyng of all Kynges.
Of the abundaunce of friendes. The .L. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Abounde in frendſhyp.
Reaſon.
It were ſtrange that thou onely ſhouldeſt haue ſuch plentie of that thing, whereof al ether men haue ſuch ſcarcitie, that throughout al ages there are but verie fewe couples of frendes made mention of.
Ioy.
I haue great plentie of friendſhip.
Reaſon.
Counterfeite friendſhyppe perhaps, for as for true friendſhyp it is ſo rare a thyng, that whoſo in his long lyfe tyme coulde fynde one, is counted to haue been a very diligent trauayler in ſuch matters.
Ioy.
I am fortunate for friendſhyppe.
Reaſon.
Thou canſt not knowe that, vnleſſe thou be infortunate in other thynges: For this ſaying is true, The fortunate man knoweth not whether he be loued or not.
Ioy.
My friendſhyps be aſſured.
Reaſon.
Then is thy aduerſitie aſſured: for this ſaying is alſo true, An aſsured friende is tryed in tyme of aduerſitie.
Ioy.
I haue much friendſhyp.
Reaſon.
Commit the iudgement hereof to experience, not to report, that lyeth in many thynges: perhaps thou ſhalt fynde fewer then thou ſuppoſeſt.
Ioy.
I haue to great plentie of friendſhyp.
Reaſon.
Auoyde ſuperfluitie in al thynges: he that hath ſufficient, requyreth no more.
Ioy.
I haue ſufficient ſtore of friendes.
Reaſon.
This neuer happened to the people of Rome, whyle they were in theyr moſt flooriſhing ſtate, neither vnto any mortal creature, as thou mayſt reade in the moſt excellent Hiſtorician.
Ioy.
I haue great ſtore of friendſhyp.
Reaſon.
I ſayd erewhyle that they be eyther feigned, or imperfect, as the Philoſophers hold opinion, for that it may ſo happen, that at one tyme thou mayeſt reioyce with one friende, and be ſory with another: or yf debate chaunce to happen among them, thou muſt needes breake thy fayth, eyther with the one or with the other, or with them all.
Ioy.
I haue ſtore of profitable and pleaſant friendes.
Reaſon.
I perceiue thou ſpeakeſt of the cōmon ſort of friendſhyp, which notwithſtandyng cannot be many at one tyme, in that to requite the friendlyneſſe of many, & to lyue familiarly with a multitude, is very difficult, ſpecially vnto hym whoſe mynde is buſyed in the execution of
ſome graue affaires, and traueile of witte.
Ioy.
I haue freendes that profite mee, and delyght mee.
Reaſon.
It is but ſlender freendſhyp, whoſe foundation is eyther pleaſure or profite: for whyle theſe thynges remayne, the freendſhyppe ſhaketh, and when they decay, the freendſhyppe fayleth: This is not only poſſible, but eaſie, yea almoſt neceſſarie, inaſmuche as for the moſt theſe thynges doo followe eyther proſperitie, or age, and the comlyneſſe of youth, then whiche there is nothyng more vncertayne. But the freendſhyppe whiche is eſtabliſhed vppon vertue, is immortall, in that vertue it ſelfe is a ſtable and firme thyng, and to vſe Ariſtotles woordes, a continuing thing, for that it can not dye. And therefore thoſe whiche we haue loued in reſpect of honeſtie, we loue them alſo when they are dead.
Ioy.
I am deceyued, but I haue faythfull freendes.
Reaſon.
Beware that thou be not deceyued, and deſire not to make experiment. For it chaunceth often, that looke whereof the conceite hath been pleaſaunt, the tryall hath been bitter and greeuous.
Ioy.
I thynke I haue good freendes.
Reaſon.
Examine diligently wherevpon thou doeſt thynke ſo, and ſpecially how much thou thy ſelfe loueſt: For there be ſome that loue not, and yet thynke that they are beloued, whiche is a great follie, and a common errour among ryche men: they thinke that loue may be bought for money, which is only purchaſed by mutuall louing and liking. A good minde is a moſt excellent thing, it is not mooued with hearbes, or charmes, not with golde or precious ſtones, no not with the ſwoorde or extremitie, but is won by louing and gentle entreating. Moreouer, the amorous ſaying of Ecato the Greeke Philoſopher is wel knowne, which pleaſeth wel Seneca and mee: If thou wylt be loued, ſayth he, loue thou. Although this be many tymes in vayne, ſo many, ſo inſearchable and deepe are the ſecret places of the hart, and the mindes of ſome are ſo venemous, diſcourteous, and cancred, that where they be much made of, they diſdaine: and where they be loued, they hate: & are not only contented to requite no good wil againe, which is not incident to the moſt cruel wilde beaſtes, but the more courteouſly they be dealt withal, the more dogged they waxe: And, yf a man may beleue it, by loue they are ſtirred to hatred, which is ye moſt dangerous & greeuous
euyll that euer in this lyfe mans ſimplicitie taſted.
Ioy.
I thinke that I haue verie good friendes.
Reaſon.
This worde good, is euermore the Epitheton that belongeth to friendſhyp, whiche though it be not named by the tongue, yet is it alwayes vnderſtoode in the minde. And yf thou wylt ſpeake it ſhort, ſay, friendes, and there withall thou ſhalt ſay, good.
Ioy.
I thinke I haue friendes.
Reaſon.
Beware thou be not falſly perſwaded, leſt haply experience make thee one day beleeue otherwyſe. To ſearche the deapth of the minde, it lyeth not in mans power, and now adayes ye geat friendes at the Wine, and prooue them with your teares, and that is laſt whiche ſhoulde haue been firſt.
Ioy.
As the worlde ſtandeth nowe with me, I haue many friendes.
Reaſon.
Thou meaneſt, I thynke proſperitie: For thus it falleth out for the more part, that although all fortune haue neede of friendes, yet they haue greateſt ſtoare of friendes that haue leſſe neede of all other thynges: And thus alwayes ſcarcitie followeth ſcarcitie, and plentie wayteth vppon plentie. When neede and pouertie commeth on, then they decreaſe, or rather to ſpeake more truely, friendſhyp at that tyme is deſcried. Who were friendes to thee, and who to thy proſperitie, it wyll appears when proſperitie departeth. Thy friendes wyll followe thee, and her friendes wyll goe after her: Thyne wyll be the better, but hers wyll be the greater companie. Thou muſt not marueile, yf when the Caſke is drawne drye, they depart whiche came only for the ſweetneſſe of the wine: for aduerſitie dryueth away a diſſembler, and the dregges a drynker.
Ioy.
I ſeeme to haue an innumerable ſort of friendes.
Reaſon.
It is well ſayde, I ſeeme. Whereuppon ryſeth this thine opinion, ſeyng that true friendſhyp among all men is rare, and thyne, thou ſayeſt, are innumerable? For thou muſt thus firſt perſwade thy ſelfe, that there is no friendſhyp but among good men, and then hereby thou mayeſt the more certainly coniecture in thy minde, I ſay not howe many true friendes thou haſt, but howe many there be in the number of all mankynde, when thou ſhalt begynne to number howe many good men there be.
Ioy.
I haue very many friendes.
Reaſon.
Many acquaintaunce ſay, and yet
howe truely thou ſhalt ſay ſo, it is in doubt: For there is no liuing thyng, no wares more difficult to be knowen, then man.
Ioy.
I haue many friendes.
Reaſon.
Companions perhappes or gheſtes. Theſe wyl not fayle thee, vnleſſe thy cheare doo fayle: As for friendes, there be alwayes fewe, or none at all, and many tymes (whiche is moſt iniurious) a houſeholde enimie poſſeſſeth the name of a friende, and vnder colour of feigned good wyl, there lurketh domeſtical treaſon.
Ioy.
I haue moe friendes then neede.
Reaſon.
It is very neceſſarie, and eſpecially to be regarded of all that are in auctoritie, that among ſo many lyes of flatterers, there may be one that hare and wyll ſpeake the trueth, in whiche reſpect an enimie is farre more profitable then a friende.
Ioy.
I haue many friendes.
Reaſon.
Beleeue mee, thou haſt neede of many: And this worlde woulde be farre more holy, vermous, and quiet, yf there were as many friendes, as there are ſo accompted.
Ioy.
I haue a friende.
Reaſon.
That is muche: For there is nothyng more deare, nor more rare, then a friende.
Of Friendes not knowen, but by report. The. Li. Dialogue.
IOY.
PReſent report, hath purchaſed vnto mee abſent friendes.
Reaſon.
This happeneth many times, that report maketh not only thoſe that a man knoweth not, but alſo very enimies to be friendes. Report made Maſiniſſa knowen to Scipio, ſo that he that was wont to be the leader of all the Carthagien horfemen agaynſt the Romanes, became afterwarde General of the Romane horſemen agaynſt the Carthagiens, and gatte him not only the hartes of his priuate enimies, but alſo of theeues and Pyrates, whiche are the common enimies of all the worlde:
For the glory and excellencie of his name drew
•
them vnto hym, vpon whom whyle he remayned in exile at Linthern, they came lorcibly ruſhyng in, ſo that at the firſt ſight they appeared terrible. But when they perceyued them ſelues to be ſuſpected, laying aſide their threamynges, and ſettyng apart their weapons, ſendyng away their guarde, they conformed them ſelues to vnaccuſtomed mildneſſe, and onely the chiefe of the theeues came vnto hym, to the intent to woorſhyp hym as a God, and his houſe as a moſt holy Churche: They weeried his victorious ryght hande with many kyſſes, and hung vp their gyftes in the porche of his houſe, as the cuſtome was in thoſe dayes to offer them vppon the aulters of the Goddes, accomptyng it in ſteede of a great gayne that they had ſeene hym, and reioycyng as yf they had ſeene an heauenly viſion, they departed wonderfully coutented. This hapned vnto Scipio: but ſeeke for ſuche another, and where, I pray thee, wylt thou finde hym? How be it it may happen alſo vnto others, and the excellencie of a mans fame may winne hym the freendſhyppe of one that is abſent: for I doo not deny, but that report beareth great ſway in the worlde. Notwithſtandyng, is it not muche to be feared, leſt that as one ſayth, Preſence doo diminiſhe the report? Howe many haue there been whom abſent men haue woondred at, and contemned them when they haue ſeene them before theyr face? Mans iudgement is a tender thyng, and is eaſily turned.
Ioy.
Report hath wonne mee freendes beyonde the Alpes, and beyonde the Seas.
Reaſon.
All your dooynges are almoſt of lyke fondneſſe and vanitie: For what commoditie or profite ſhalt thou reape by hym of whom thou waſt neuer ſeene, nor neuer ſhalt be ſeene, and whom thou neuer ſaweſt, nor neuer art lyke to ſee? your vices alſo doo make your preſent freendſhippes vnprofitable and vntruſtie, although to ſay the trueth, they be no true freendſhyppes in deede, but are only ſo rearmed. What mayeſt thou hope then of theſe thy freendſhyppes? Beholde, the Comicall Poet ſayeth, that Courtesie winneth freendes: but truely, true freendes in deede are ſcarce obtayned with great and manifolde courteſies: and thou thynkeſt that thou haſt gotten a freende with a fewe woordes, and
thoſe poſſible none of thyne owne, thou art too ful of hope.
Ioy.
Report hath brought me a freende from the fartheſt part of the worlde.
Reaſon.
A contrary report wyll alſo take hym away from thee, and ſo muche the more eaſily, by howe muche mens eares are more commonly open to euyll, then good reportes.
Ioy.
Fame hath gotten me a good freende.
Reaſon.
How knoweſt thou how good he is whom thou neuer ſaweſt, ſeeyng that thou knoweſt not all this whyle what they be whom thou ſpeakeſt vnto dayly, and art conuerſant withal? Your óuer quickneſſe of beleefe oftentymes deceyueth you, ye ſoone beleeue that whiche you woulde haue. Ye geue muche credite to lying fame. Thou hopeſt that thou ſeeſt his minde, whoſe face thou neuer yet ſaweſt, notwithſtanding that there be ſo many ſecret couertes and hydden places in the hartes of thoſe that are very wel acquainted. It is an hard matter to knowe a freende, but in great aduerſitie: and it is more difficult to knowe him, then to get hym. For perhappes he may be gotten ſome time with a fewe woordes, who ſhall ſcarce be knowen in many yeeres, and by many tryalles. I ſpeake now of a freende after the common maner of ſpeeche, but as for a true freende, he is not founde before he be tryed: Neyther truely doo other mens woordes, or his owne, proue a freende, but the tryall of his loue and truſtineſſe.
Ioy.
Report hath wonne me a freende a farre of.
Reaſon.
Some body hath won thee a freende by tellyng a lye of thee: and lykewyſe by reportyng the trueth, or peraduenture by blaſing a falſe tale of thee, another wyll take hym away from thee. For looke by what meanes all thynges are made and doo growe, by the ſame they are ſoone vndone and reſolued: And nature wyll haue it ſo, that thinges which ſoone doo growe, ſhal ſoone decay.
Of one only faythfull Freende. The .Lii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue one faythfull and approoued freende.
Reaſon.
In trying, your iudgement is often deceyued, and looke wherein ye thynke your ſelues moſt expert, both in that, and ſo lykewyſe
in all other thynges, your opinion fayleth.
Ioy.
I doo knowe it, and not ſuppoſe onely, that I haue a moſt faythfull freende.
Reaſon.
And howe many haue there been, thynkeſt thou, that beleeuyng ſo muche, yea, and as they thought, knowing ſo muche, yet when the matter came to more diligent examination, founde them ſelues to be deceyued: Whence commeth it that there be ſo many complantes made dayly of freendes, but onely becauſe whom ye counted moſt ſaythful, ye haue found vntruſtie: There is no coniecture nor eſtimation ſo difficult, as is of the minde of man.
Ioy.
I doo not coniecture nor ſuppoſe, as I haue ſayde, but I knowe that I haue a moſt aſſured freende.
Reaſon.
Eyther thou haſt a moſt excellent thyng, or els thou art in a moſt foule errour.
Ioy.
Concernyng this matter, I am in no errour, but I haue a freende whom I haue tryed in ſundrie and great difficulties.
Reaſon.
Then haſt thou a moſt ſweete and ſacred thyng, a more excellent then which, next vnto vertue onely, neyther nature, nor fortune, not labour, nor ſtudie, haue graunted vnto Mankinde. A mans parentes, I confeſſe, are deare vnto hym, his chyldren deare, his brethren deare, all theſe may waxe vnpleaſant, and yet for all that they are ſtyll our parentes, chyldren, and brethren, yea though vppon occaſion they ſurceaſſe to be ſweete vnto hym: onely a freende, as long as he is true, can not ſurceaſſe to be ſweete and dearelybeloued. Parentes, I ſay, are deare: Notwithſtandyng, dyd not Iubiter expulſe Saturnus his father out of his kyngdome? Dyd not Nicomedes depriue of lyfe Pruſias his father, that was kyng of Bithynia, who at that tyme was in conſultation with hym ſelfe howe to murder his ſonne? Ptolomeus alſo, hereof ſurnamed Philopater, who hauyng ſlayne his father, mother, and brother, and laſt of all his wyfe Euridice, gouerned the kyngdome of Egypt in ſuche ſort by the aduice of harlottes, that he had nothyng in his whole Realme proper to hym ſelfe, beſydes the bare and vayne name of a kyng. Dyd not alſo Oreſtes ſlay his mother Clytemneſtra, Nero his mother Agrippin. and Antipater his mother Theſlalonice? Chyldren alſo are deare. Dyd not Theſe us commaunde his moſt chaſt ſonne Hippolytus, and Philip kyng of Macedonie his ſonne
Demetrius, a young Gentleman of ſingular towardneſſe, to be ſlayne? Dyd not alſo the other Ptolomeus, whiche is a name repugnaunt to godlyneſſe, who was alſo a moſt truſtie kyng of Egypt, ſlay two of his ſonnes? Likewyſe, Herode king of Iudea ſlue one, and Conſtantinus, Emperour of Rome, ſlue one of his ſonnes, called Criſpus. Dyd not alſo Maleus, generall of the Carthagiens, hang vp Carthalo his ſonne? Yea moreouer, mothers, whoſe loue is more tender, and their kynde more milde, haue alſo ſhewed crueltie agaynſt theyr chyldren. The hiſtorie of Medea is knowen to all men. What ſayeſt thou to the Queene of Laodicea and Cappadocia, who vpon the immoderate deſire ſhe had to reigne, ſlue fiue of her ſonnes? Parentes, I ſay, are deare (for I repeate theſe agayne) chyldren are deare, brethren are deare. But to conclude al wickedneſſe in one example, Phraates kyng of the Parthians, the moſt wickedſt wretch that euer liued, & of al men moſt inraged with furie and deſire to reigne, cruelly and vnnaturally ſlue his owne father Orodes. beyng an olde and diſeaſed man, and moreouer his thirtie brethren, the ſonnes of the abouenamed kyng, and with theſe alſo his owne naturall ſoune, to the ende there ſhoulde none remayne in Parthia to gouerne the kyngdome. But theſe examples be olde: heare we not howe of late memorie in Britanie. the father and the ſonne contended for the crowne? and howe this other day in Spayne, brethren were togeather by the eares for the kyngdome? Howebeit of ſuche contentions, and ſpecially among brethren, there be plentie examples both newe and olde, that it were almoſt an harder matter to finde out whiche brethren were friendes, then whiche were enimies, But wee wyll let them both paſſe, for nowe we gather remedies, and not examples. Moreouer, are not huſbandes deare, and wyues deare? Concernyng this matter thou ſhalt enquire of Agamemnon and Deiphobus, and of your countreymen, Claudius the Emperour, and Africanus the younger: theſe men ſhall tell thee howe dearely beloued they were vnto theyr wyues. On the other ſide, demaunde of Octauia, and Arſinoe, what the one thought of her huſbande Nero, and the other of her Ptolomeus.
The firſt of her adoptiue, the other of her naturall brother, & both of them of theyr huſbandes. The fyrſt wyl teſtifie as ſhe hath been founde towarde her ſelfe, the other towardes her chyldren. Thus, as thou ſeeſt, we gather the moſt choyce and woorthy examples: As for the common ſort, both of cities, and vulgare lyfe and trade of men, whiche are full of ſuche lyke complaintes, I let them paſſe. Whiche beyng ſo, ſince in all kyndes of thoſe thynges whiche ſeeme moſt deere, what by priuie hatred, or open diſpleaſure, oftentymes there is muche bitterneſſe, freendſhyp onely is voyde of ſuche griefe and diſpleaſure, and freendes neuer not onely not flue or deſtroyed, but dyd not ſo muche as hurt one another willingly: Wherefore yf thou haue founde ſuche a freende as thou ſpeakeſt of, perſwade thy ſelfe that thou haſt founde a great treaſure, and take heede thou doo not as the common ſort of people doo, who geuyng them ſelues to the ſearchyng and folowyng after vile matters, and contemnyng excellent thynges, doo buſie them ſelues more with tyllyng their lande, and folowing their trade of Merchandize, then in ſeekyng of freendes, and enſuing of vertue, and ſo haply thou neglect this commoditie whiche thou haſt gotten. If ye beſtowe ſo muche care and diligence in preſeruing your golde and ſiluer, and orientall precious ſtones, whiche are but the excrementes of the earth, and purginges of the ſea: howe muche more diligent ought ye to be in enterteynyng and keepyng of a freende, whiche is a moſt precious and diuine thing? Beware thou offende hym in no reſpect, or that vpon occaſion of any woorde he conceyue diſpleaſure agaynſt thee, and ſo depart from thee, and then too late thou heare that ſaying of Eccleſiaſticus: Lyke as one that letteth a byrde flie out of his hande, ſo haſt thou loſt thy neyghbour, neyther canſt thou take hym agayne, or followe hym, for he is farre of. He hath eſcaped as a Roe out of the ſnare, and becauſe his ſoule is wounded, thou ſhalt not be able to intrap hym any more.
And therefore, as I ſay, thou haſt a great and ſweete treaſure, but painfull notwithſtandyng, and difficult: paineful, I meane to be gotten, and kept. A freende is a rare Iewell, he muſt be kept with great diligence, and yf he be loſt, be lamented with great ſorowe.
Of plentie of Ryches. The .liii. Dialogue.
IOY.
BUT I abound in ryches.
Reaſon.
I marueyle now the leſſe, that thou ſeemedſt to abounde in friendes: for it is no ſtrange nor newe matter, to ſee the doores and entries of the ryche frequented by common friendes, and feygned attendance.
Ioy.
I haue great plentie of ryches.
Reaſon.
A dangerous and burdenſome felicitie, whiche ſhall purchaſe more enuie, then procure pleaſure.
Ioy.
I flowe in wealth.
Reaſon.
It followeth not ſtrayghtwayes that therefore thou floweſt in quietneſſe and pleaſure. Thou ſhalt ſcarce finde a rich man, but he wyl confeſſe that he lyued better in meane eſtate, or in honeſt pouertie.
Ioy.
I am growne to great wealth. Securitie, ioy, and tranquilitie are decreaſed, which if they would encreaſe with ryches, I woulde not only permit, but exhort men to loue them.
Ioy.
I haue great ryches.
Reaſon.
Then haſt thou a thyng harde to be gotten, careful to be kept, greenous to be loſt.
Ioy.
My ryches are great.
Reaſon.
If they be diſpearſed, they wyll decreaſe, and yf thou keepe them, they wyl not make thee ryche, but keepe thee occupied, and make thee not a maiſter, but a keeper.
Ioy.
I haue great ryches.
Reaſon.
Take heede rather that thou be not had of them, that is to ſay, that they be not thy ryches, but thou rather theyr ſlaue, and they not ſeruant to thee, but thou to them: For yf thou knowe not ſo muche alredy, there be many moe that are had, then that haue ryches, and there is more plentie (whom alſo the ſaying of the Prophete noteth) of men that belong vnto ryches, then ryches that belong vnto men: Thus the greedineſſe and baſeneſſe of your myndes, of maiſters maketh you ſeruantes. The vſe of money is well knowne, to b
•
y thoſe thynges that are neceſſarie for nature, whiche are but fewe, ſmall, and eaſie to be gotten: what ſo euer is ſuperfluous, is noyſome, and then they be no longer ryches, but cheynes and fetters, and no longer Ornamentes of the body, but impedimentes of the mynde, and heapes of carefulneſſe, and f
•
ate.
Ioy.
I am full of ryches.
Reaſon.
Beware that they burſt thee not: for euery fulneſſe ſeeketh an yſſue. Ryches haue procured the death of many, and doo bereaue almoſt all men of reſt.
Ioy.
I haue woonderful ſtore of ryches.
Reaſon.
A thyng repugnant to good manners. To muche ryches haue not only corrupted the manners of priuate men, but alſo of the whole people of Rome▪
and ouerthrewe theyr great and woonderfull vertue, who ſo long were a noble, iuſt, and vpryght people, as they were a poore people. In pouertie they were conquerers of nations, and which is more glorious, conquerers of them ſelues, tyll at length they that had ouercome vyces, were them ſelues ouercome and ouerthrowne by ryches: I ſpeake that whiche I knowe, and therefore thou ſeeſt what thou haſt to hope of riches.
Ioy.
I abounde in riches.
Reaſon.
How much had I rather thou aboundedſt in vertue.
Ioy.
I reſt in my ryches.
Reaſon.
Poore wretches, ye lye a ſleepe in the bryers: your ſleepe is ſounde, that ye feele not the pryckles: Beholde, the day commeth that ſhal awake you, and ſhal playnely expound that whiche is written. The ryche men haue ſlept theyr ſleepe, and when they awaked, they founde no ryches in theyr handes.
Of finding of a golde min. The .liiii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue founde a Mine of golde.
Reaſon.
This hope of ryches, hath been cauſe of pouertie vnto many, and of deſtruction not vnto fewe, whilſt neglectyng all other thynges, and beſtowyng al theyr care and trauayle vppon this one thyng. Notwithſtandyng theyr toyle hath turned to litle profite, whyleſt in reſpect of the greedie deſire that they haue to golde, forſaking the ſight of heauen and the Sun, they learne to leade foorth theyr lyfe in darkeneſſe, and are conſumed with the thicke and noiſome dampe before theyr tyme.
Ioy.
Chaunce hath offered vnto me a gold Myne.
Reaſon.
To the entent that beyng turned away from the contemplation of heauenly things, thou mighteſt gape after earthly thynges: and not only that thou mighteſt liue more vnfortunately, & ſhorter time, neare to the ground, but alſo drowned vnder the ground.
Ioy.
I enter into a golde Myne.
Reaſon.
Nero the Emperour, the ſame terrible and miſerable
night, which notwithſtanding he had deſerued, which was the laſt night that he lyued, being put in mynde by ſuch as were about hym, to hyde hymſelfe in a certayne Caue vnder the grounde, to the entent he might eſcape the reprochful death, & abuſing of the people that ſought after hym: anſwered, That he would not go vnder the ground while he was lyuyng. But thou, being compelled by no feare, but only carryed away with couetouſneſſe, goeſt alyue vnder the earth, neyther can the comfortable ſhynyng of heauen keepe thee from thence, neyther the horrible darkeneſſe of the earth dryue thee away. What marueyle is it, yf men conſume themſelues with trauayling al the world ouer to ſeeke ryches, ſeeing alſo in ſeeking and digging for them vnder the grounde, they diſquiet the infernal ſoules and Fiendes of Hel? And as the Poet Ouid ſayth, Men haue entred into the bowels of the earth: And thoſe riches which God had hyd vp, and couered with the darkneſse of hell, they are digged vp notwithſtanding, which are the prouocations vnto al miſchiefe.
Ioy.
I haue found a Mine of gold.
Reaſon.
It is an olde prouerbe, Many times one man ſtarteth an Hare, and another catcheth hym. Thou haſt found a bootie which many wyl couet, one only ſhal poſſeſſe, & peraduenture thou ſhalt not be that one. Vnto deſyred thyngs there is much reſort, & it is dangerous when one man hath found that which many wyl couet, and none wyl be wyllyng to ſhare with other. And this is the cauſe, that though Italie, as Plinie ſayth, be inferiour to no country for plentie of al ſortes of metalles, notwithſtanding by auntient prouiſion & actes of parliament, order was taken that Italie ſhoulde be ſpared.
Ioy.
I digge earth that will yeeld golde.
Reaſon.
The trauel is certaine, but the euent doubtful: what if thou dyg long & find nothing? what if thou finde much, but not for thy ſelf? what if it be the worſe for thee to haue found ſum what, & better for thee to haue found nothing? Mans ioy is moſt times accompanied with ſorowe.
Ioy.
I am gone downe into my golde Mine.
Reaſon.
This queſtion is commenly mooued amongſt men: what deuice will drowne a man in the bottom of hel? and thou being in bel, doeſt thou ſeeke what wil aduaunce thee to the top of heauen?
Ioy.
I haue founde a Mine of golde.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt founde the redie way to the Deuyll.
Of the fyndyng of Treaſure. The .lv. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue found treaſure.
Reaſon.
Beware of the craftes and deceites of fortune: The hooke is offred in the bayte, the line as ginnes pretend a kynde of delite.
Ioy.
I haue founde treaſure.
Reaſon.
Treaſure hath been death vnto many: and though it bryng no danger to the body, yet is it perilous to the ſoule. Ryches do not ſatiſfie the deſire, nay they ſlake it not, but rather prouoke it: mans deſyre is ſet on fyre with ſucceſſe, and as the golde encreaſeth, the thirſt of gold encreaſeth alſo, and the deſire of ſeekyng more: but vertue decreaſeth, whiche only is the death of the ſoule.
Ioy.
Chaunce hath brought me treaſure.
Reaſon.
An hurtful burden, and enimie to modeſtie. He wyl arrogate any thyng to hym ſelfe, whom ſodayne fortune hath made happy.
Ioy.
I haue fallen vppon treaſure by chaunce.
Reaſon.
Perhaps thou myghteſt more ſafely haue fallen vppon an Adder, foraſmuche as plentie of ſiluer and golde do commonly bryng ſcarcitie of vertues: and this is proper to al thyngs, ſpecially that doo come ſodaynely, that though other doo hurt, yet they doo it by litle & litle, whileſt in tyme they drawe away ſomewhat from the trueth, and geue confirmation to the erronius opinions: but theſe procure ſodayne aſtonyſhment, and trouble the mynde, with an vnexpected inuaſion.
Ioy.
The treaſure which I found, I haue layde vp at home.
Reaſon.
That whiche is chiefe in this thy ioy, thou haſt found an heauie and vnprofitable lumpe of earth, it is a ſhame for the mynde, which is of an heauenly nature, to waxe proude thereof.
Ioy.
A treaſure vnlooked for, hath ſodaynely happened vnto me.
Reaſon.
Thou thynkeſt it wyl continue▪ but it wyll ſodaynly decay: for looke what is ſoone growne, is as ſoone wythered. Sodayne
〈◊〉
, is lyke the proſperitie of one that is in a dreame.
Of Vſurie. The .lvi. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue layde foorth my money ſafely to Vſurie.
Reaſon.
There are ſome that wyll abuſe thynges that were inuented
for a good purpoſe, and thoſe thynges that were euyll inuented, to worſe purpoſe, or worſt of all: thou haſt founde money, not to the ende thou wouldeſt be ryche, but to the ende thou wouldeſt be nought, and (as I ſuppoſe) wouldeſt not be ſo euyl, vnleſſe thou haddeſt founde money. There be ſome that be the worſe for their good chaunces, not acknowledging therein the bleſſing of GOD, neyther lyke vnto him of whom it is written, He wyll thanke thee, for that thou haſt deaſt mercifully with hym: But rather, ſuppoſyng that GOD from aboue hath geuen them occaſion, and (as it were) a meane and way to commit wyckedneſſe: And therefore thou haſt founde money, wherewith thou myghteſt purchaſe ignominie, and, vnhappy man, myghteſt make a lyueleſſe mettal to be a burden to the lyuely ſoule.
Ioy.
I haue well layde foorth my money to vſurie.
Reaſon.
Say not that an euyll thyng may be wel layde foorth, but only layde downe. If thou caſt away an euyl burden, it is wel: otherwyſe whereſoeuer thou beſtoweſt it, as long as it apparteyneth vnto thee, it ceaſſeth not to be euyl.
Ioy.
I haue wel layde foorth my money to good encreaſe.
Reaſon.
How an euyl thyng may be wel layde foorth to commoditie, ſee thou. Truely howe muche the more abundant euery euyl thyng is, ſo much it is worſe. Thou knoweſt the ſaying of Dauid. Theyr iniquitie is ſproong foorth, as it were out of fatneſſe:
And the richer an vſurer is, the worſe he is, ſo muche the greater his couetouſneſſe and wyckedneſſe is.
Ioy.
I applie vſury.
Reaſon.
Couldeſt thou fynde out no better Art to beſtowe thy tyme vppon: Or dyddeſt thou fynde many, but this was moſt meete for thy diſpoſition? Or what els was the matter that among ſo many thou appliedſt thy mynde to this, a more worſe or vyler then which, I know not where thou couldeſt haue found any, or that dependeth vpon the lykyng of a more wretched, baſe, and cowardly mynde? Among ſo many Artes as are at this day knowne, and ſo many trades of lyuyng, thou haſt choſen the worſt of all: whiche thou haſt doone for that it ſeemed a quiet kynde of lyfe, namely to ſytte ſtyll and reckon the dayes, and to thynke long vntyl the laſt day of the Moneth come ſpeedyly: litle regardyng
howe therewithall alſo thy houres, dayes, monethes, and yeeres doo paſſe away: and lyke as theyr tyme draweth neare that are indebted vnto thee, ſo dooth thy tearme lykewyſe approche: and lyke as theyr tyme, I ſay, draweth neare that they muſt pay thee, ſo dooth thy tyme drawe neare, that thou muſt pay thy debt vnto nature, leauyng that behynde thee which thou haſt ſhamefully gayned, and not knowyng when the time wyll come. Thus thou extorteſt from the poore, to enriche thou knoweſt not whom, and art alwayes in feare of the future iudgement, and in the meane whyle art not maiſter, but a feareful keeper of that whiche is gotten by fylthie Rapine, and pinched with hunger and infamie. I woulde marueyle howe this miſchiefe coulde be ſuffered in wel gouerned Cities, but that I ſee al miſchiefes are ſuffered in them. And therefore when as not long agoe, Vſurers as Leaperous perſons lyued ſeparated apart from the company of other men, that not only none ſhoulde come at them but thoſe that ſtoode in neede, but alſo were eſchewed by them that met with them, as ſtynkyng and contagious perſons: Nowe they lyue not only among the people, but they be conuerſant alſo with Princes, and they be aduaunced by maryages, and come to great honour and dignitie: ſuch is the force of golde. Yea moreouer, a thyng which thou mayeſt woonder at as a Monſter, Princes themſelues be vſurers. the Lorde amende them, ſo ſmal regarde haue they of the loſſe of ſoule and honour, ſo ſweete is the ſauour of money howſoeuer it be gotten.
Ioy.
I take delight in vſurie.
Reaſon.
A fylthie and miſerable delyght.
Ioy.
I vſe to laye foorth money to vſurie.
Reaſon.
If we beleeue Cato. thou haſt ſlayne a man.
Ioy.
I am an vſurer, I haue learned none other trade to lyue by.
Reaſon.
This is a defence for thy couetouſneſſe, this is the cauſe whiche thou pretendeſt: and yf it be harde for hym that is wyllyng to learne, who can learne agaynſt his wyl?
Ioy.
I wyl alwayes occupie vſurie.
Reaſon.
Then ſhalt thou alwayes be a wretch, alwaies couetous, alwayes poore, and in the ende goo to the Dyuel.
Of fruitefull, and well tylled lande. The lvii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue fruitefull lande.
Reaſon.
Vnderſtande thereby then the power of hym that maketh fruitful, and ſo vſe the heauenly gyftes, that thou diſpleaſe not the geuer of them: which thou ſhalt doo, yf the fruitfulneſſe of thy lande, dryue not away the ſobrietie and modeſtie of thy mynde, and thy plentie, be beſtowed vpon thy freindes and the poore: there is nothing pleaſaunt or ſauorie to one that is alone.
Ioy.
I huſband moſt exquiſitely fruitful lande.
Reaſon.
Man ought not to be ſeruant to the lande, but the lande to man: by meanes of mans tranſgreſſion, it is come to paſſe that the earth yeeldeth nothyng to the owner without trauayle: yf it be not huſbanded, it bringeth foorth but a rough croppe, Burres, Thiſtles, Bryers, and Thornes: the ſame to labour with the plough, and by ſtrange manuryng, to make it ſoft and pliant, mans neede hath enforced. Hereof began huſbandrie, which in tymes paſt was the moſt holy and innocent lyfe, but now ſubiect both to the auncient toyle, and newe vices, ſynce nothyng hath been left vnſearched by enuie and auarice: Townyſh vyllanies haue crept into Countrey cottages. Truely it is lykely that huſbandmen were the laſt that waxed wycked: whereof it commeth that the Poet ſayth, When Iuſtice forſooke the earth, ſhe left her laſt footesteps among them: But it is to be feared, leaſt they that were laſt euyl, be nowe chiefe: ſo that yf haply men ſhoulde one day generally returne to vertue, and the auncient manners of olde tyme, theſe men woulde then alſo be laſt. But nowe I come to the Art of huſbandrie, whiche was ſometyme had in great pryce, and vſed by men of great callyng and wyſedome: wherein, as in many other thyngs, Cato, ſurnamed Cenſorius, poſſeſſeth an hygh roomth, of whom when it was written, and that moſt truely, that he was an excellent Senatour, an excellent Oratour, an excellent Captayne, and at length, to the fyllyng vp of his commendacion, it is added, that without compariſon or example, he was the moſt excellent Huſbandman of his tyme.
Who wyl then be aſhamed to tyll the grounde with Cato? who wyl thynke that there is any thyng vnfytting for hym ſelfe, whiche he thought ſeemely yenough for his perſon? who beſydes the gyftes of his body and mynde, and the glory of his woorthy deedes, had triumphed for conqueryng of Spaine? Who would be aſhamed to dryue foorth and cal to his Oxen, whom that voyce draue along in the furrow, whiche had ſometyme hartened ſo many great armies to battayle, and moſt eloquently defended ſo many doubtful cauſes? Who woulde diſdayne the plough and the harrowe, whiche that triumphant and Philoſophical hande touched, whiche had purchaſed ſo many notable victories ouer ſo many enimies, had wrytten ſo many excellent woorkes of worthie matter, apparteynyng both to Philoſophie, Hiſtorie, or common vſe of lyfe, as are thoſe bookes which he wrote concernyng this matter whereof we nowe entreate? He was the fyrſt amongſt you that geathered the preceptes of Huſbandrie, and brought them into the fourme of an Art, and ſet them downe in wrytyng: after whom there folowed many other, whereof ſome haue aduaunced that poore and ſymple ſkyl, in woorthy and excellent verſes, whiche nowe callyng to my mynde, and not forgetful of mans neceſſitie, truely I doo not nowe diſcommende of Huſbandrie. Notwithſtandyng, neyther the excellencie of wryters, neyther the feare of pouertie, ſhal euer conſtrayne me to iudge it meete to be preferred or matched with the liberal and commendable artes? although the firſt age of the empire had thoſe that were both valiant captaynes, and good huſbandmen, but now by continuance of tyme the caſe is altered. Howbeit, it happeneth not now through the frailtie of nature, that your wittes are not ſufficient to atteyne vnto thynges of ſo diuers nature: And therefore in this age, I wyll permit that excellent perſonages geue theyr myndes ſometyme to Huſbandrie, not to make it a toyle, or theyr trade of lyuyng, but rather for theyr recreations, & to put greater cares out of theyr heades, as namely, ſometyme to graffe the tender twygge vppon the buddyng ſtocke, or to correct the ranke leaues with the croked hooke, or to lay quyckſettes into the Dyke in hope of increaſe, or to bryng the ſyluer ſtreames by newe dygged
furrowes into the thirſtie mebowes, I am content to geue theſe men licence after this maner earneſtly to buſie them ſelues, to dygge, and delue: but wholly to apply the minde vnto the earth, vnleſſe neceſſitie conſtrayne thereunto, I count it vnmeete and vndecent for a learned and valiaunt man, who can not lyghtly want ſome matter of more noble exerciſe. The good mother Nature, when ſhe gaue many artes vnto men, ſhe made a difference alſo between their wittes and diſpoſitions, that euery one ſhould followe that, where vnto he was moſt euclyned. Thou ſhalt finde ſome one, who beyng of an indifferent witte, can ſo cunnyngly eyther tyll the lande, or ſayle ouer the ſeas, that in this behalfe no Philoſophers wyſedome may be compared to his induſtrie. It is a follie, and a bootleſſe thyng, to contende with another man, not in thyne owne, but in his art: wherein, although otherwyſe thou excell hym, and be hygher, as they ſay, then hee by the head and ſhoulders, yet thou ſhalt be founde his vnderlyng, and where thou art ſuperiour in the greateſt matters, thou mayeſt eaſily be ouercome in many ſmall.
Ioy.
This Summer, my lande hath been verie fruitfull vnto mee.
Reaſon.
Marke the next, for preſent plentie hath many tymes been a token of future ſcarcitie. It is a rare matter to fynde proſperitie without intermiſſion.
Ioy.
I haue huſbanded my lande diligently.
Reaſon.
It is well doone, yf thou haddeſt nothyng els to doo.
Ioy.
I haue trymmed my Vineyarde exquiſitely.
Reaſon.
Perhaps thereby thou haſt promiſed to thy ſelfe a plentifull vintage: but haſt thou alſo made an agreement with the froſt, and hayle?
Ioy.
I haue ſowed my grounde thicker then I was woont.
Reaſon.
Thou ſhalt feede the moe Cranes and Wildgeeſe abroade, moe Miſe and Rattes at home, thou ſhalt be hoſte to foules and woormes, a picker foorth of Darnell, a maker of thy floore, a buylder of barnes, and a ſeruant to thy reapers and threſſhers.
Ioy.
I haue ſowed my fieldes plentifully.
Reaſon.
Be of good hope, thou ſhalt reape that which thou haſt ſowed, corne and carefulneſſe: vnleſſe perhaps I may ſay this more truely, that the come belongeth to many, and the carefulneſſe to thee alone: and to ſpeake as the trueth is, the fielde is thy minde, the tillage thyne
intent, the ſeede thy care, the harueſt thy traueyle: theſe ſhalt thou finde moſt plentifull.
Ioy.
I haue well huſbanded my lande.
Reaſon.
I wyll tell thee a thyng that thou mayeſt woonder at. Thoſe auncient huſbandmen, thoſe valiant men that tooke great glorie in Huſbandrie, were of opinion that it ſhoulde be well followed, but not too well: an incredible thyng perhaps to be hearde, but by proofe of experience founde to be moſt true, for the profite ſcarce counterueyleth the charge, and among the auncient writers, there is a compariſon, not vnfit, made betweene a man and a feelde: Theſe twayne yf they be ſumptuous, although they be prifitable, the remainder wyl be lytle or nothyng at all, and therefore in that reſpect, neyther is to be muche regarded.
Ioy.
I till my land with great diligence.
Reaſon.
I had rather thou diddeſt till and huſband thine owne ſelfe: but thou, being an earthly creature, loueſt the earth, whiche is no ſtrange thing, ſince thou thy ſelfe ſhalt make fatte that earth whiche now thou tilleſt. Tyll and huſbande as muche land, and as many trees as thou lyſt, yet in the ende, thou ſhalt not poſſeſſe very many feete of grounde, neyther, as ſayth Horace, Among thoſe trees whiche thou huſbandeſt and tylleſt, ſhall any followe thee their ſhort Maiſter, beſides the hatefull Cypres trees.
Of pleaſaunt greene VValkes. The Lviii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue pleaſaunt walkes.
Reaſon.
I confeſſe in deede, that theſe ſomtyme doo bryng honeſt pleaſure, and ſomtyme vnhoneſt. And therefore, thoſe that be ſtudious of vertue, and ſuch as geue them ſelues to voluptuouſneſſe, doo equally delight in ſhadowie withdrawing places: For the place prouoketh ſome to wiſedome, and ſome to repentaunce, and ſome to incontinencie and wantonneſſe. For it is not for nothing that the great Oratour, when he obiected adulterie againſt a vile perſon, deſcribed alſo the pleaſantneſſe of yt place where the fact was committed, as adding a ſpurre vnto the wickedneſſe: and therefore we ought not to take delight in the place, but to be merie in minde, if it haue hapned vnto thee to haue ſuch an one, as knoweth well how to vſe al places.
Ioy.
I haue ſtore of pleaſant walkes.
Reaſon.
Who hath
not heard of Tiberius ſecret walke, and the withdrawing place of Caprea? I am aſhamed to recite the thinges that are knowen to al men. The olde man Hircinus, how doth he rayle againſt ſecret walkes: How much more gloriouſly did Scipio Africane liue a poore baniſhed man in the dry countrey, then the Romane prince in al his pleaſures? I therefore repeate this agayne: Al your felicitie conſiſteth not in places, neither in any other thinges, but in the minde only. So that they whiche haue commended of the ſolitarie life, and ſecret withdrawing places, woulde haue it thus to be vnderſtoode, to witte, yf the minde be able to vſe them wyſely, and not otherwiſe. And therefore I attende to heare, what profite thou reapeſt of thoſe thy pleaſant walkes, and then marke what I wyll pronounce thereof. For if thou vaunt thee ſo muche of the places which yeſterday were not thine, and to morow perhaps may be taken from thee, and if thou conſider vprightly, at this preſent are none of thine, doubtleſſe thou vaunteſt of that whiche is anothers. What haſt thou then to glory of? What belongeth it vnto thee that the Alpes be cold in Sommer, that ye mountaine Olympus is higher then the cloudes, that the hil Apenninus beareth wood and trees? What though Ticinus be bright, Atheſis pleaſant, Sorga ſoundyng? If theſe be prayſes, truly they are not the prayſes of men, but of places: but it is thy part to miniſter iuſt matter of thine owne commedation.
Ioy.
I walke in pleaſant places.
Reaſon.
In the meane while it ſkilleth what cares doo walke in thy breaſt: for what auayleth it to put ſtinking oyntmentes into iuorie boxes? What, to haue a foule mind, in fayre places? Howe many holy fathers haue floriſhed among the rough mountaines? How many filthy adulterers haue rotted in the greene medowes? Moreouer, it hath ben prooued that ſuch places haue not only ben hurtful to mens mindes, but ſomtimes alſo to their bodies & liues, not only by taking too much aire, but alſo by the ſwoord & ſudden inuaſion. Who readeth not in Curtius of ye moſt pleaſant groues and woods, the ſecrete walkes & herbars which the kinges of the Medes planted with their owne handes, the chiefeſt thing wherein the kinges & nobles of the Medes beſtowed their indeuours and tooke greateſt delight, as it is reported? Howbeit, in them at the commaundement of a drunken and frantyke young Kyng,
the auncient and noble Parmenio was ſtayne, who, as I ſuppoſe, was the chiefe of the Dukes and Captaynes of the Macedones. Who knoweth not Caieta, and that bendyng of the ſhoare there, a fayrer and pleaſaunter place then whiche, there is none vnder the Coape of heauen: in whiche place the noble Cicero was murdered at the commaundement of drunken and cruell Antonie? This place in ſome reſpect myght be conuenient for ſo woorthie a man, that ſince the deſtenies had denyed hym power to dye at Rome, he myght dye in that flouryſhyng countrey, the moſt flouriſhyng Oratour of all other, and beſt citizen: Howbeit the maner and auctour of his death was far vnwoorthie, It was by chaunce that Cicero at that tyme walked in thoſe places, to auoyde the troubles of the citie, and was after his maner eyther deuiſing ſome newe matter concernyng Philoſophie, or apparteyning to the courſe and trade of liuing, or bewaylyng the common wealth. The griefe of his minde which he conceiued of the ſtate of his countrey, he aſwaged with the delight of his eyes, when as the Butchers that were ſent by him that was enimie to all vertue, diſpatched ſuch a man out of the worlde, as no age to come wyl reſtoare the lyke. Thus therefore it hapneth, that delectable places are moſt ap
•
for treaſon and deceypt, whilſt men lyue there moſt looſely, and haue leaſt regarde to foreſee daungers. For the wylde beaſtes are ſoneſt ſnared in the thickeſt wooddes, and birdes are moſt eaſily limed in the greene twigges.
Ioy.
I walke meryly in my pleaſaunt walkes, and voyde of care.
Reaſon.
Mirth, and neglect of care, are alwayes contrarie vnto heedefulneſſe. So long as euery man thynketh earneſtly vpon his owne dangers, and the common ſtate of mans life, there ſhall ſcarce any man lyue very merily, or deuoyde of care: And it is neyther the beautie of the places, nor hope of ryches, that can breede forgetfulneſſe of miſchiefes that are at hande.
Ioy.
I take delyght to be abroade in my walkes.
Reaſon.
Not more delyght then doo the wilde Boares and the Beares. It maketh not ſo muche matter where thou art, but what thou doeſt: The place ſhall neuer make thee noble, but thou the place, and that neuer ouherwyſe, then by attemptyng ſome notable matter therein.
Of Flockes and Heardes of Cattle. The .Lix. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Ioy in my flockes and heardes.
Reaſon.
A brutiſhe ioy.
Ioy.
I abounde in heardes and flockes.
Reaſon.
A beaſtly proſperitie, whiche beaſtes haue procured.
Ioy.
I loue flockes and heardes.
Reaſon.
In all loues, it is to be ſuſpected, that there is ſome likelineſſe betweene the louyng, and beloued.
Ioy.
I loue heardes and flockes.
Reaſon.
Ye loue euery thing ſauing vertue, and one of you another: Thoſe thinges which eſpecially ought to be loued, ye care not for, & thoſe thinges whiche ye ſhoulde not eſteeme, ye loue.
Ioy.
I loue heardes and flockes.
Reaſon.
O wretched louers of vile thynges, and haters of the woorthie? Ye loue thoſe thynges whiche vnderſtande not that they are loued, neyther are able to loue you againe, for you your ſelues doo not loue one another, nor loue them that loue you, and all this miſchiefe commeth through couetouſneſſe, that you not onely preferre a bondſlaue before a free borne man, but alſo a beaſt, before a reaſonable creature.
Ioy.
I haue plentie of heardes, and flockes.
Reaſon.
If thou feede them thy ſelfe, what other ſhalt thou be, then a moſt buſie ſheaphearde? A vile office, although it be prayſed of many, ſpecially of Catullus of Verona: but yf thou doo it by other, then thou art not the ſheaphearde thy ſelfe, but ſeruaunt to thy ſheapheardes, and layde open vnto their deceytes. Somtyme thou art indamaged by thy neyghbour, ſometyme by fallyng from an hygh, ſometyme by murreine, ſometyme by theeues, ſometyme by ſtraying, euery day ſome excuſe muſt be feigned, whereby thy loſſe, ſorowe, and abuſe doo growe: but the greateſt griefe is, to be deceyued by a rude ruſtike varlet.
Ioy.
I am ryche in flockes and heardes.
Reaſon.
Ryches are prayſed, yet are they vncertayne, and ſubiect to many chaunces, deceites, theft, murreines, whiche come ſo often, & are ſo hot, that many tymes they conſume whole flockes, and diſpearſe whole heardes. Thou knoweſt the rotte whiche Lucretius deſcribed, and afterhym Virgil, with many other, whiche for the want of writers, are not ſet downe of lyke fame, and
alſo as hurtfull.
Ioy.
I am ryche in flockes and heardes.
Reaſon.
Wyde and large ryches, whiche can not onely not be comprehended in a coffer, as golde and precious ſtones, but alſo not within the compaſſe of a moſt great houſe, ſo that thou art not ſafe from ſeruauntes, nor from theeues, nor from cruel wilde beaſtes, for euery one hath power ouer thy goodes.
Ioy.
I reioyce in my heardes and flockes.
Reaſon.
Thou ſhalt once reioyce, and be ſorie a thouſand times. There ſhall no day paſſe ouer thy head without ſome ſorowful newes: Now the Sabeis are broken in, and haue taken away all that thou haſt, and haue put thy ſeruauntes to the ſwoorde, as it was once in tyme paſt ſayde to that good old man that was ſo ryche in cattel: As one tyme an Oxe hath broken his horne, at another time an Horſe hath ſtrayned his legge, now a Woolfe hath deuoured a ſtragling Lambe, at another time the rotte hath inuaded the infected flocke. Wretches, ye are not contented to beholde your owne miſeries, and mortalitie, but that you muſt alſo bewayle the death of bruit beaſtes.
Of Elephantes and Camels. The .Lx. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue Elephantes.
Reaſon.
To what purpoſe I pray thee, for peace, or warre? With theſe, the two moſt notable enimies of Italie, Pyrrhus and Hannibal, whilſt they hoped to breake the array of the Romane armies, they troubled their owne orders: A greeuous and noyſome beaſt, and whiche, as thou knoweſt well, hath oftentymes deſtroyed their owne maiſters and keepers: to ſight ſtrange, and for hugeneſſe of body, forme, ſwell, and noyſe, terrible, vnprofitable to vſe, and hard to be gotten.
Ioy.
I haue a great Elephant.
Reaſon.
There haue been ſomtime Elephantes in Italie, not taken by huntyng▪ but caught from the enimies, and ledde in triumphe, whiche at the firſt ſight m
•
de the Italian horſes afearde, w
•
en theſe Elephantes followed them into the Capitoll, and were not long before taken from Pyrrhus: As for the Carthagiens, they were not ſo much taken from them, as forbydden the vſe of them: for ſuche were the conditions of the yeace, whiche they agreed vnto when they were vanquiſhed,
and it was ſpecially and namely prouided, that they ſhoulde deliuer vp ſuch as they had that were alredy tamed, and thencefoorth they ſhoulde tame no moe. And thus by ſmall and ſmall the vſe of Elephantes decayed, not onely in Italie, where they were farre ſtrangers, and were brought thither as it were by force, but alſo in Africa and Aegypt, whiche are countreys nearer to the places where they doo breede. Thus report goeth, that in Italie in the dayes of your great grandfathers, Frederike that was king of the Romanes had one, and the kyng of Aegypt alſo but one onely: and both theſe princes had them rather for ſhewe, then for
〈◊〉
vſe. Thus theſe beaſtes in India and Aethiopia, being de
•
y
••••
from the weeriſomneſſe of forraine nations, dwel quietly in theſe owne natiue wilderneſſes. And what art thou that ſeemeſt ſo muche to glorie in an Elephant? Art thou a ſecond Hanaibal. who being carried vpon an Elephant, and lookyng with one eye, troubled all Italie? This beaſt, although he doo ſomwhat reſemble the vnderſtandyng and reaſon of mankinde, as ſome writers haue reported, and is much commended for mildneſſe of maners, yet doo I ſay that he is but an vnprofitable beaſt, and more meete for the prodigalitie of a Prince, then the callyng of a priuate perſon, which is able to fyll an houſe, and to emptie a barne.
Ioy.
I haue Camelles alſo.
Reaſon.
Theſe are almoſt both to be conſidered of a lyke, but that the Elephant is meete to beare turrettes, and Camelles to carrie burdens, and the more commodious and profitable of the twaine. If thou wilt follow my counſell, vſe ſuche beaſtes as moſt prudent nature hath engendred in thoſe partes of the worlde where thou thy ſelfe lyueſt, who hath diſtributed beaſtes and all other thynges, as they are moſt meets for euery climate.
Ioy.
I haue a Camell.
Reaſon.
Iob had three thouſand, & loſt them: For both ſickneſſes, and theeues, and infected paſtures, and falles, and a thouſande other chaunces hang ouer your heardes. Feeldes, and hylles, and walles are dayly deſtroyed: what then ſhall a man ſay to theſe whiche doo not ſtande? All your goodes for the moſt part are in perpetual motion, and that fame which ye ought to ſeeke through the engraffed vertue of the mind, ye hunt after with the rareneſſe of ſtrange and fortaine beaſtes.
Of Apes, and other beaſtes of pleaſure. The .Lxi. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Take pleaſure in an Ape.
Reaſon.
A beaſt filthie to beholde, and vnhappie in effect, of whiche what canſt thou hope other then weeriſomneſſe? Whatſoeuer he findeth in the houſe, eyther he ſpoyleth it, or caſteth it about. Yf then thou take delyght in ſuche thynges, doubtleſſe thy Ape is pleaſaunt vnto thee. Cicero calleth hym a monſtrous beaſt, ſaying alſo that there is nothyng leſſe to be marueyled at, then that an Ape ouerthrewe the pitcher of lottes, whiche that moſt learned man woorthyly mocketh at, to be written of in the Greeke hiſtories for a woonder, when as in deede it myght ſeeme more marueylous, yf he dyd not ouerthrow and caſt euerie thyng about.
Ioy.
I haue plentie of beaſtes of pleaſure.
Reaſon.
There is nothyng that can be at once both filthie and pleaſaunt: for what pleaſure or delyght is there in filthineſſe? Howbeit, a man ought to eſchue whatſoeuer offendeth his eyes, his eares, his noſe, and his minde, and that taſt is corrupt whiche taketh pleaſure in bitter thinges. But this is your maner, to be delyghted with filthie thinges: and ye take ſingular pleaſure, not onely in filthie and vnprofitable beaſtes, but, which is more vile, in diſhoneſt perſons, and men of vnſeemely ſpeach, and odious demeanure: and to be ſhort, the more euyl
•
auoured a thyng is, the more acceptable and beloued it is vnto you. This is a renerall rule amongſt you, this is your fantaſie, this is your diſpoſition, this is your ſtudie, and the commendation of your iudgement.
Of Peacockes, Chyckens, Hennes, Bees, and Pigions The .Lxii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue ſtoare of Peacockes.
Reaſon.
By their tayles I wou'd aduiſe thee to thinke vppon Argos eyes, leaſt the moſt famous plague that foloweth the neglecting of good rules, do hurt thy feete.
Ioy.
I haue many Peacockes.
Reaſon.
I confeſſe it is a beautiful and comely byrde to beholde, but this pleaſure of the eyes is requited with great weeryſomneſſe of the
•
a
•••
, agaynſt the horribleneſſe of whoſe moſt hellyſh noyſe, it were
•
eedeful for men to run away, or to ſtoppe theyr eares with V
•••
ſes waxe: I wyl ſay nothyng of the griefe and complaintes of the neyghbours, whiche are more hateful then any thyng els. But you, whileſt imperiouſly, and leauyng nothyng vnaſſayed, ye tender your throate and belly, ye thynke neyther vppon your owne nor your neyghbours diſcommodities, forgettyng how that in olde tyme the moſt valiant and woorthie men had no ſuch care or deſyre, when as fyſhes, and wylde beaſtes, and foules, were
〈◊〉
•
uedled withal, & beſydes the feathers there is nothyng to be ly
•••
of, as Ouid ſayth. And now truely I can perceiue nothing in this foule that may delyght a man, beſides the excellencie of the
••
eſh, whiche ſome ſay wyll neuer putrifie, though it be kept & long whyle, which thou mayſt prooue yf thou lyſt, and S. Auguſtine ſayth, he hath proued. Thus, vnleſſe ambition and prodigalitie be preſent, neyther your meate nor your delyght can ſatisfie you. Truely, it is reported that Hortentius the Oratour was the fyrſt that euer kylled a Peacocke at Rome to be eaten for meate, a man of great eloquence, in manners delicate and ſoft as a woman: but ſuch a one, whoſe manners very many, whoſe eloquence very fewe, do imitate.
Ioy.
I nooryſh Poultrie and chickins.
Reaſon.
A trouble to thy houſe, meate for Foxes. ſcrapers of the floore, by meanes of whoſe talentes thou ſhalt alwayes haue duſt, and neuer an euen floore.
Ioy.
I haue great ſtore of Hennes.
Reaſon.
To omit their noyſomnes, the commoditie & charges almoſt al one, one egge is dearely bought, and caſteth much cacklyng.
Ioy.
But I haue plentie of Bees.
Reaſon.
Thy felicitie is not only mortal, but flying on the wyng, and fugitiue.
Ioy.
I haue many Hyues.
Reaſon.
There is as much buſyneſſe and noyſe in euery one of them, as in a great Citie, or an armie of men. Now the ſwarmes are redy to t
••
e away, now the kynges wyl fight, nowe they neede ringing of a
••
an or braſen Baſon, nowe caſtyng of duſt, that they may be ſaue
•
▪ Many tymes when thou haſt doone al that thou canſt, thou ſhalt be neuer the neare. And thus thynkyng thy ſelfe to be
rych, ſhalt finde thy ſelfe naked: and therefore yf thou compare the carefulneſſe of the kepyng, with the hony, thou wylt ſay, It is bytter Hony.
Ioy.
I haue plentie of Pigeons.
Reaſon.
By night the Bees be whiſt in theyr bedchambers, fayth Virgyl: but Pigeons be neuer at quiet, for there is no lyuyng thyng more vnquiet then a Pigeon.
Ioy.
My Pigeon houſes are full.
Reaſon.
Then haſt thou ſome that ſtriue and fight, ſome that mone, ſome that foule the houſe by day, ſome that breake thy ſleepe by night: behold what a great matter this is of reioycing.
Of Fyshpondes. The .lxiii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Reioyce in my fyſhpondes whiche I haue made.
Reaſon.
I doo not thynke, that thou haſt made them with more felicitie then dyd Solomon. And therefore when thou ſhalt turne thy ſelfe to beholde al the woorkes which thy handes haue made, & the traueyles wherein thou haſt ſwe at in vayne, in them al thou ſhalt perceyue vanitie and affliction of mynde, that perhaps thou mayeſt be ſorie in that wherein thou haſt taken pleaſure, reputing it both loſſe of tyme, and of expences.
Ioy.
I haue made me fyſhpondes.
Reaſon.
It is not ſufficient for the belly to haue ſearched through al landes, but the waters alſo are aſſayed, and there is a priſon made for fiſhes in their owne kyngdome.
Ioy.
I haue ſtored my fiſhpondes.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt depriued fiſhes of their libertie, and natural habitation, and thoſe whom nature made whole, thou haft taught to be ſicke.
Ioy.
I haue let in the water into my fiſhpondes.
Reaſon.
Thou ſeeſt, howe to haue enforced the waters, it was noted and aſcribed vnto price in Iulius Caeſar, as great a man as he was: what doeſt thou then thinke of thy ſelfe?
Ioy.
I haue encloſed fiſhes with in my Weares.
Reaſon.
Ye keepe flying foules in pryſons at your pleaſure, what marueile is it then, if you haue the flowe fiſhes at your commaundement? All thinges are in your power, and ſubiect vnder your feete, ye moſt painful and couetous mortall men, except your owne minde only, which either ye cannot bridle and gouerne, or, whiche more true is, ye care not to doo it.
And therefore beyng wylde and vagrant, he dryueth you about, and enforceth you to al kyndes of vanitie and miſchiefe: which yf it were obedient vnto you, or rather ſubiect to reaſon, he would then leade you in a more redy path, to a better ende, and cauſe you to contempne many thynges whiche ye couet.
Ioy.
I haue fyſh ſhut vp in my pondes.
Reaſon.
Foraſmuche as all thynges are ſubiect vnto you, ſee howe ſeemely a thyng it is for you to be ſubiect to pleaſure, vnto the moſt vyleſt thyng of all other, the moſt nobleſt thyng that is vnder heauen. But thus it fareth, you wyl rule al, to be ſeruantes your ſelues to ſenſualitie. And this folly is not newe, nor of the common ſort, but auncient, and of the chiefeſt. Fyſhpondes and Weares for Oyſters, dyd Sorgius Orata fyrſt appoynt at the ſhore Barane. About the ſame tyme Licinius Muraena began the Weares for other fiſhes: who both tooke theyr ſurnames of a fyſhe. Theſe are woorthy cauſes of a ſurname, to wyt, for that one of them loued the Gyſthead, the other the Lamprey. Theſe be they that haue deſerued the tytles to be called Africani, or Macedonici: and perhaps theſe men haue taken no leſſe paynes in takyng and beſtowyng theyr fyſhe, and in buyldyng theyr Weares, then Scipio and Paulus dyd in deliueryng and beautifiyng theyr countrey, with theyr conqueſtes and triumphes. And therefore it is very true whiche ſome ſay, In quantitie al mens cares are almoſt equall, but in qualitie farre vnequal. And as euyll examples haue alwayes plentie of folowers, after this Licinius, there folowed noble men, Philip, Hortentius, and Lucullus alſo, a man otherwiſe of famous memorie, who not being contented with a ſimple Weare, neere vnto Naples, he cauſed an Hill to be cut away: whiche ſtoode hym in as great charges as the buylding of his countrey houſe, or vyllage, deuiſing a place of reſt for the fyſhes whiche he had taken, by the cutting away of a ſtop whiche was made of hard rocke, and lettyng in the Sea, as it were a cauline Hauen. And therefore Pompeius the great, who deuiſed not only Weares, but Empires alſo, not improperly termed this Lucullus ye Romane Xerxes, that is to ſay, a dygger away of hilles. What ſhal I ſay of others? The firſt that made Weares for Lampreis, was one Curus, I know not what he was;
for, notwithſtandyng al his Lampreys, he is ſcarſe yet knowen, whereof he had ſuch plentie, that with ſixe thouſande of them he furniſhed Iulius Caeſars triumphant ſupper. This man had alſo his imitatours, namely Hortentius the oratour, of whom we ſpake before, a man that neuer failed in folowyng an example of wantonnes: and therefore it falleth out many tymes, that your learnyng nothing abateth your madneſſe: but it neuer bringeth any thyng that a man may woonder at, whyleſt they that haue attayned vnto learnyng, thynke that it is lawful for them to doo euery thyng, and arrogate muche vnto them ſelues, whiche they durſt not, if they had not learnyng. It is reported therefore that this man had a Weare at the ſhore of the Baiane coaſt, whereas, among other fyſhes whiche he had, he loued ſo dearely one certayne Lamprey, that he mourned for him when he was dead. Beholde a woorthy loue, and meete to prouoke ſo graue a man to teares. He that (as it is read) neyther bewayled the ciuil warres of his tyme, nor the proſcriptions and ſlaughter of the Citizens, neyther yet woulde haue lamented the ouerthrowe at Cannas, yf it had happened in his tyme, dyd he weepe for the death of a Lamprey? This lightneſſe is ſo great, that that whiche is of later dayes muſt needes be pardoned. The age and ſexe of Antonia maketh her follie more excuſable, who is reported, not to haue wept for her Lamprey, but while he was liuyng, to haue decked him foorth with ringes and iewels of golde, inſomuche that the ſtrangeneſſe of the ſight, cauſed many folkes to repaire to Paulos▪
for that was the name of the vyllage, lying in the Baiane confines. There were alſo Weares of Wylkes and Perewincles, and other vanities concernyng fyſhes, and ſpecially the Pyke of Tibur, whiche was taken betweene the two brydges. But I haue ſpoken yenough of other mens errours, in whiche the moe thou ſeeſt enwrapped, the more diligent take thou heede leaſt thou be ſnared in the lyke: neyther doo I nowe forbydde thee the vſe of fyſhes, but only the ouer muche care of vyle and vnnoble thynges.
Of Cages of byrdes, and of ſpeaking and ſinging byrdes. The .lxiiii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue ſhut vp ſundry byrdes in a Cage.
Reaſon.
I leaue nowe to woonder at the pryſons for fyſhes. There be ſome alſo prouided for byrdes, whoſe dwellyng is the open ayre, a more large and wyde countrey: Gluttonie hath founde out huntyng, it hath founde out fyſhing, it hath founde out haukyng, and it is not ſufficient to take them whom nature created free, but they be alſo kept in pryſons. How muche more ſeemely and honeſt were it, to enforce the belly to be contented with meates that may be eaſily gotten, and to leaue the wylde beaſtes to the wooddes, and the fyſhes to the Sea, and the foules to the ayre, then to beſtowe ſo much trauel vpon them, that yf it were beſtowed to catch vertues, in this tyme by good ſtudie hauing obteyned them (for they wyl not flie away) ye might haue planted them within the cloſet of your myndes, from whence they could neyther eſcape away, nor be purloyned.
Ioy.
I haue fylled my Cage with byrdes.
Reaſon.
A thyng nothyng at al neceſſary, and no leſſe harde to be founde, then difficult to be preſerued, auncient notwithſtandyng, whiche aboue a thouſand and foure hundred yeeres ſince, one Lelius, ſurnamed Strabo, fyrſt deuiſed, not that Lelius that was counted the wyſe, who, yf he had founde out byrd cages, had loſt the tytle of wyſedome. There be ſome inuentions that ſeeme to be profitable and pleaſant, whiche notwithſtandyng become not noble wyttes: they that fyrſt found out fyſhpondes, and hyrde Cages, what other thyng dyd they reſpect then theyr bellyes, whiche is farre from thoſe that are ſtudious in vertue?
Ioy.
I haue fat Chruſhes, and Turtle doo
••
s in my Cage.
Reaſon.
But not ſlowe tormentours, ſince thyne appetite beyng prouoked by ſo many enticements, requireth the punyſhment of a ſicke ſtomacke. Haſt thou not hearde the ſaying of the Satyrical Poet? This notwithſtanding is a preſent Puniſhment, when thou putteſt of thy clothes, being ſwelling full, and carieſt thy vndigeſted Peacocke with thee into the baine. He ſpeaketh there of a Peacocke. It is a beautiful & a famous foule: but it is not he alone that pincheth the ouergreedfe panche. The
delyght of thy belly, is but of ſhort taſt, which in ſhort tyme wil alſo turne to loathyng, vnleſſe it be moderated. Rawneſſe that is not eaſily diſgeſted, is a ſickneſſe that bryngeth long payne, and many tymes death: Goe thy wayes nowe, and bragge of thy fat Thruſhes, & Turtledooues.
Ioy.
I haue ſpeaking Choughes, and Pyes, & Parrats.
Reaſon.
The Emperour Auguſtus takyng pleaſure in the lyke, gaue great ſummes of money for them that ſaluted hym conquerous and trimphant Caeſar. And when afterward there were many other ſuch preſented vnto him, anſwered, that he had yenough ſuch ſaluters at home alredy, laying there a meaſure to that vanitie: ſauyng that the laſt Crowe with his ſtrange paſtyme, cauſed hym ſelfe to be bought more deare thou were the reſidue. Theſe hiſtories are read in the Saturnalia: But what in the naturall Hiſtorie of our neighbour of Verona: This Crowe that was ſo docible, vſyng to flie out of the Coblers ſhop, where he was moſt diligently fedde, and commyng abrode into the open ſtreete, woulde ſalute Tiberius Caeſar, and Druſus, and Germanicus by name, and the whole people of Rome, with ſuch admiration and loue of them all, that when as a neighbour mooued eyther with enuie or anger had killed hym, with great ſorowe and griefe of almen the killer was firſt driuen out of thoſe quarters, and afterward ſtayne by the people, and the Crowe with diligent exequies and ſolemne funeral, was taken vp and buried. O alwayes vnſpeakable madneſſe of the people? In that citie there was a Crow wept for and buryed, and he that kylled him, beyng a Citizen of Rome, was put to death: in whiche Citie neyther Africane the greater had a Sepulchre, neyther the leſſe a reuenger, for that on Gods name this Crowe, as I haue ſayde, ſaluted the people, but theſe men of whom I ſpeake, dyd not ſalute, but procured ſafetie and glory to the people. Thus the ſpeach of Crowes is more acceptable, then the vertue of valiant men. Let any man nowe deny, that it is ſafe for hym to agree to the peoples iudgement: although who ſo is an vpryght conſiderer of thinges, he wyl not marueyle at the publique contempt wherein worthy men are had, ſince of theſe woonderers at Crowes, and other pratling byrdes, diuine voyces, and heauenly Oracles are deſpiſed.
Ioy.
I haue a faire
Parrat.
Reaſon.
This bird forſooth aboue al the reſidue is notable for his golden chayne, vnleſſe it be the Phenix agayne, for he among byrdes weareth a chayne, and is moreouer the only byrde of his kynde. But the Parrat, beyng a great ſaluter, and ſpecially of prynces, nature hath playnly made hym as it were a flatterer: whereby this Diſticon or two verſes are knowen, I Parrat wyll learne other mens names of you: But I haue learned this of my ſelfe, to ſay, hayle Caeſar.
Ioy.
I haue a moſt eloquent Pye.
Reaſon.
When as eloquent men are very ſeldome found, haſt thou a moſt eloquent Pye? I confeſſe it is a pratlyng byrde, and a diligent ſaluter: whereof commeth this ſaying, I pratling Pye doo call thee my maiſter with a perfect voyce: If thou ſaweſt me not, thou wouldeſt deny that I were a byrde. Veryly there be ſtrange thynges (I know not whether as true) reported, concernyng the diligence and deſire to learne of this byrde: But this aboue the reſidue is ſcarce credible, that yf ſhe forget the woorde whiche ſhe is taught, ſhe is very much vexed and greeued, which griefe of mynde, ſhe bewrayeth by her ſecrete meditation, and yf ſhe chaunce to call the woorde to her remembrance, then waxeth ſhe woonderful meery: But yf through hardneſſe of the worde, or weakneſſe of her memorie, ſhe be throughly ouercome, many times ſhe dieth for ſorow: ſo that now the Poet Homers death is to be counted leſſe ſtrange, yf ſo it be true. Howbeit, all Pyes are not of lyke aptnes to learne, but thoſe only which receiue theyr meate and name with maſt, and are commonly called maſt Pies.
Ioy.
I haue gotten a pleaſant ſingyng Nightyngale.
Reaſon.
Plinie the ſecond reporteth, that there are Nightingales alſo and Starles founde that are apt to be taught the Greeke and Latine tongues, and moreouer, that in his tyme there was a Chruſhe in Rome, that dyd imitate the ſpeache of a man: the lyke whereof was knowne commonly of late of a Starle, whom it hath been thy chaunce to heare and woonder at many tymes euen in Plinies Countrey, ſpeakyng orderly many woordes togeather, poyntyng and pronouncyng them lyke a man: For as touchyng the Parrat, it is nowe ſo common a thyng, that it is no more to be marueyled
〈◊〉
. Howe often haſt thou hearde hym playnly call for meate?
How often calling his Feeder by his name, and the better to perſwade hym, flatteryng hym with ſweeteneſſe of geſtures and woordes? How often laughyng, in ſuche ſorte, that he hath cauſed the ſtanders by to laugh, that it was thought not to be the laughter of a byrde, but of a very man? Whiche although it be ſo, yet al theſe, beleeue me, but ſpecially the Nightingale woulde ſyng more pleaſantly vppon theyr owne boughes then in your Cages, ſauyng that your luſt lyketh of nothyng but that whiche you haue made your owne, although nature haue made al thynges common. Thus couetouſneſſe ſtretcheth beyonde her owne bondes, and her owne name.
Ioy.
I haue gotten togeather innumerable ſtore of birdes.
Reaſon.
Although thou haue many, yea though thou haue al, yet I thynke thou wylt lacke the Phenix: whether there be ſuch a byrde, or whether there be no ſuch byrde, or whether we beleeue that to be true which ſome haue written, to wyt, how that vpon the foure hundred yeere after the building of the citie, this bird flue out of Arabia into Egypt, and being taken there, was brought to Rome, and there at an aſſemblie was ſhewed vnto the people, and at length, as it is like yenough, died: which laſt thing, thoſe graue writers doubt not but it is falſe, which notwithſtanding are in ſome diſtruſt of the firſt. And therfore when thou haſt al kinds of birdes, yet ſhalt thou lacke the moſt woonderful and beautiful birde of al. Sorowfully and angerly I ieſt with thee: why do ye alwaies reioyce, like children, in vaine pleaſures? And as Solomon ſayth, Yee litle babes, how long wil ye loue infancie? Turne at the length vnto my correction, as he alſo ſayth. For theſe are his woordes whiche I ſpeake vnto you: and O ye blynde wretches, ſuffer the byrdes to lyue in the wooddes, to breede, to feede, to ſyng, and wander abrode, and ſtretche you foorth the wynges of your ſlouhtful myndes vnto heauen, and lyft vp your ſelues from the grounde, endeuour not to catche byrdes, but to become byrdes. And omittyng theſe matters, whereof I am aſhamed to ſpeake, yf thou haue any thyng wherein it is meete for a man to reioyce, vtter it.
Of the woorthineſſe of Marriage. The .Lxv. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue married a noble Wife.
Reaſon.
I had rather thou hadſt at home, not onely Pies and Parrattes, but Owles and Shritches: They woulde ſing, ſhe wyll chyde: they would tell thee ſomwhat, ſhe wyll doo thee nothing: thou myghſt caſt them of, but her thou canſt not.
Ioy.
I am adorned with a noble marriage.
Reaſon.
Thou art tyed with a fayre chayne, from whence death only can delyuer thee.
Ioy.
I am happie, by meanes of a noble marriage.
Reaſon.
Thou were more happie, if it were by a chaſt marriage, and moſt happie by a ſingle lyfe.
Ioy.
I am beautified with a goodly marriage.
Reaſon.
The choyce of a wyfe is hard, a foule one is loathed, a fayre one is hardly kept, by reaſon that there is perpetual warre betweene the beautie of the body and chaſtitie of the minde. But if that do happen, whiche is moſt rare, and honeſtie be ioyned with beautie, I wyl then reaſon more largely with thee. Admit ſhe haue all other ornamentes of a woman, nobilitie, wyſedome, ryches, fruitefulneſſe, eloquence, good name and fame, good and commendable behauiour, yet know thou this, that with theſe pride is entred, intermingled into thy houſe: So that it is not without good cauſe that the Satyrical Poet ſayeth, That he had rather haue Venuſin
•
, then Cornelia, that was mother to the Gracchi, and daughter to Scipio Africane, that was proude of her fathers triumphes and glory.
Ioy.
I haue chaunced vppon a noble and honeſt marriage.
Reaſon.
What ſayeſt thou of the pride and diſdayne? Art thou ignoraunt of the maners of women? Learne to ſerue, learne to ſuffer, learne to looſe thy deereſt friendes: thou muſt attende thy wedlocke only. A wyfe is a dangerous rocke, and deſtruction to friendſhyp, imperious, and gouernour of the huſbandes affections.
Ioy.
I haue married a Gentlewoman to my wyfe.
Reaſon.
An heauie burden, and hard fetters to weerie thy ſhoulders and feete, which ſometyme were free: Greeuous to be ſpoken, more greeuous to be thought on, but moſt greeuous to be ſuffered, a gheſt not for one day, but for thy whole lyfe, and perhaps an enimie hath entred vpon thy houſe voyde of
defence: So that, as I haue ſayde, the hope of the auncient remedie of diuorce beyng taken away, death onely muſt ſet the free.
Ioy.
I haue married a welbeloued wife.
Reaſon.
Thou art deceyued, ſhe hath married thee, thou liuedſt to long at thine owne libertie, thou haſt taken a wyfe to be thy Miſtreſſe, a tormentour to her Chyldren in law, an enuier of her Mother in lawe, a yoake to thy Houſhold, a burden to thy Kitchen, a payne to thy Storehouſe, a charge to thy Coffer, an ornament to thy Hal, a ſhewe for thy Windowe in the day, and an vnquietneſſe for thy Chamber in the nyght.
Ioy.
I haue gotten a moſt louing wyfe.
Reaſon.
In the ſteede of loue, which thou knoweſt not, ielouſie, ſuſpition, and complaintes, are come vpon thee, thou haſt continual warres at home, euen in the middes of pleaſures and paſtyme diſagreement wyll ſpryng: thou ſhalt be ſafe neyther at boorde nor at bed, thou ſhalt finde no tyme voyde of ſtryfe, at midnight ye ſhall be togeather by the eares.
Ioy.
I haue obtayned a wiſhed marriage.
Reaſon.
Marriage with a wyfe, and peace with a diuorce.
Ioy.
I haue a wyfe whom I pleaſe exceedingly.
Reaſon.
Peraduenture it were better for thee to diſpleaſe her, then ſhould ſhe not trouble and conſume thee with louing, but ſuffer thee to muſe on thy matters, and to folowe thy buſineſſe, and to take thy naturall ſleepe: Whereas now in pleaſing thy wyfe, thou thinkeſt vpon nothing that may pleaſe thy ſelfe, but vpon her only, ſhe challengeth thee wholy to her ſelfe, and yet thou alone art not ſufficient for her. If vpon occaſion thou wouldeſt go any whither, ſhe wyll ſay thou runneſt away, and ſeekeſt cauſes to depart from her: yf thou do any thyng, ſhe wyll ſay thou forgetteſt her: yf thou muſe vpon any matter, ſhe wyl ſay thou art angrie with her: yf thou abſtayne from meate, ſhe wyll ſay her prouiſion pleaſeth thee not: yf thou take thy reſt, ſhe wyll ſay thou haſt weeried thy ſelfe with playing the game of loue with other. And therefore, in being pleaſant to thy wyfe, thou muſt needes be vnprofitable to thy ſelfe and others.
Ioy.
I haue a wife, whom I loue ardently.
Reaſon.
It were better to loue her chaſtly, vertuouſly, ſoberly, and modeſtly: for what is ardent loue other then the burnyng of the minde, whiche while it flameth, what place can there be for modeſtie, for coniugale reuerence, tranquillitie, and quietneſſe?
Doth thy wyfe loue theée ardently? Vnleſſe ſhe perceyue that thou loue her agayne, her loue wyll waxe colde, and ſhe wyll turne her goodwyll into hatred: but yf thou wylt match her in loue, thou muſt needes burne lykewyſe, and geue thy ſelfe ouer only to thy louer, and be the wakeful huſband of a ielous wife: ſome tyme with fayre woordes, and ſometyme with complaintes and feigned accuſations thou muſt be awaked & troubled in the night, yf peraduenture thou haue wantonly eaſt thine eye aſide, or laughed hartily with one that hath laughed, or ſaluted thy neighbours wyfe, or commended the beautie of another woman, or returned home late at nyght, or finally, ſhalt doo or ſay any thing whereby thou mayeſt be ſuſpected of the breache of loue: which, if it may be called a lyfe, then knowe not I what is to be tearmed death. And this is my opinion concernyng your ardent loue.
Ioy.
I haue a perpetuall companion of my Bedde.
Reaſon.
And alſo a perpetuall baniſhment of ſleepe. The ſleepe of the wedded bedde is rare, and ſmall, where there is ſometyme pleaſure, ſometime chyding, and neuer quietneſſe.
Ioy.
I haue a moſt faythful wyfe.
Reaſon.
I deny not but there haue been ſome faythfull, euen to the death. And truely to a man that hath choſen this kinde of lyfe, a good and faythful wyfe is a great treaſure: yet the multitude of the contrarie ſort is greater, for that many woorthie men haue periſhed through their wiues tretcherie. I omit the cruel and blooddie marriage of Danaus, that infamous night, and miſerable ſlaughter of ſo many young men togeather. Not this, they of whom we ſpake erewhyle, not graue Agamemnon, not Deiphobus the Phrygian can deny, and among your countrey folke, Scipio Africane the younger, and laſtly of latter tyme, not kyng Alboinus, whoſe blood ſtayned the bankes of the fayre riuer Atheſis, whiche was ſhed there by his vnchaſte and cruell wyfe.
Ioy.
I haue met with a noble, chaſt, gentle, humble, obedient, vertuous, and faythfull wyfe.
Reaſon.
Thou art a notable fouler, thou haſt founde a whyte Crowe: and yet there is no man that thynketh he hath founde a blacke one.
Of a fayre VVyfe. The .Lxvi. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue chaunced vpon a faire Wife.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt gotten an hard prouince, be watchful. I haue ſayd alredie, that it is an hard thing to keepe that which is deſired of many.
Ioy.
My wiues beautie is excellent.
Reaſon.
The beautie of the body, as many thynges els, reioyceth commonly in the lyke, and hateth vnlykelyneſſe and inequalitie. If therefore thou thy ſelfe be of lyke beautie, thou ſhalt be buſied, if not, thou ſhalt be contemned, both which are greeuous.
Ioy.
My wiues beautie is great.
Reaſon.
Her pride is as great, for there is nothing that ſo much puffeth vp the mind, and maketh proude.
Ioy.
My wiues beautie is paſſing great.
Reaſon.
Take heede that her chaſtitie be not as ſmall. The Satyrical Poet hath a pretie ſaying, It is ſeldome to ſee beautie and honeſtie to agree: Whiche admit they be togeather, yet who can abide the inſolencie of behauiour, and dayly contempt?
Ioy.
My wyfe is paſſing fayre.
Reaſon.
Then haſt thou at home a ſumptuous Idole, & a painful, thou ſhalt dayly ſee ſtrange and newe faſhions, and dayly diſgu
•
ſing of the body, to ſee howe wel euery thing becommeth, and an inuentyng head to deuiſe euery way: Now terme the loſſe of thy patrimonie, a gayne.
Ioy.
I haue a moſt beautiful wyfe.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt a contentious Idole, and a proude, whiche beyng aſſotted, thou mayeſt woorſhyp, whiche beyng rauiſhed, thou mayeſt woonder at, & honour, and depende wholly vpon her, ſubmit thy necke to her yoke, and repoſing thy ſelfe onely in the beautie of thy wyfe, caſt away from thee all other cares, and thyne owne libertie: And, as I ſayde erewhyle, beware thou prayſe none but her, turne not thine eyes from her face, waxe not faynt in ſpeakyng her fayre, be not leſſe fonde then thou waſt woont to be, whatſoeuer thou miſlikeſt in her it is treaſon, al wiſedome in thee is forſaken of her: Finally, liue at thy wyues commaundement, & obſerue the becking of thy Miſtreſſe as a Drudge, and not as an Huſband: Do this yf thou thinke it ſo great a matter to embrace thy fayre bedfellowe, & to enioy her ſmooth ſkin for a litle while, &
to beget chyldren vpon a whyte wombe, as it were to take choyce apples out of a fayre veſſell.
Ioy.
I haue a beautiful wyfe.
Reaſon.
A ſweete poyſon, golden fetters, an honourable ſeruitude.
Ioy.
I take pleaſure in my wyues beautie.
Reaſon.
A vayne and ſhort pleaſure. There is nothyng more frayle then beautie, ſpecially a womans. Who ſo loueth his wyfe for her beauties ſake, wyll ſoone hate her.
Of a fruitefull and eloquent VVyfe. The .Lxvii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue a fruitefull wyfe.
Reaſon.
She wyll bryng thee foorth many cares, and many troubles: A barren wyfe, is but one trouble in an houſe, but a fruitefull wyfe, is many. Thou knoweſt the ſaying of the Comical Poet, I married a wyfe, what miſerie dyd I not taſte of thereby? Then had I chyldren, another care.
Ioy.
My wyfe is not onely fruitefull, but eloquent alſo.
Reaſon.
At one ſide thou ſhalt haue chyldren and nurſes: on the other ſide thou ſhalt not lacke ieſtes and woordes. Thou haſt one with whom thou mayeſt diſpute, and declaime. And haſt thou not heard the ſaying of the Satyrical Poet, where he ſayeth, Let not thy wyfe which lyeth by thy ſide, be a Rethorician, or a Logician, neyther well ſeene in al Hiſtories. Thou ſoughteſt for a wyfe, and haſt founde a Schoolemiſtreſſe: and now thou art in this caſe, that thou canſt not vtter any rude or common thyng, without thy wyues controullyng and mockyng, and thou ſhalt wyſhe in vayne that whiche the ſame Poet ſayeth, Let the huſbande be licenced to ſpeake falſe congruitie. Among the weeriſomneſſes of the worlde, there is none more odious then a ſaucie woman, or ſhe that can not holde her tongue.
Of a great Dowrie. The .Lxviii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Am enryched with a great Dowrie.
Reaſon.
And with a great tyrannie, and ſo one miſcheife is heaped vppon another. There be two prouocations of pride in wyues, their dowrie,
and their beautie.
Ioy.
My wife hath a great Dowrie.
Reaſon.
There is nothing more importunate or vntractable, then a woman with a great dowrie She thinketh that ther
•
i
•
nothing vnlawful for her to do, which compareth her riches to her huſbandes pouertie, which mayntayneth her huſband, & thinketh her ſelfe to be his Miſtreſſe, and not his fellowe.
Ioy.
There is a great Dowrie come into my houſe.
Reaſon.
Where the Dowrie commeth in, libertie goeth out: Whiche thing Lycur
••
s very wel foreſaw, who made a lawe, That Maydens ſh
•
ulde be married without a Dowrie: adding alſo a reaſon, to wi
•
, That the wyfe ſhoulde be married, and not the money, and men ſhoulde looke more narrow
•
y to their mariages, when as they were reſtrayned by no Dowrie: And both wyſely, for in deede in many houſes the huſbande is not married to the wyfe, but the money is married to couetouſneſſe, and doubtleſſe a great Dowrie is the wyues libertie, and the huſbandes brydle.
Ioy.
I haue a very great Dowrie with my wyfe.
Reaſon.
Nay, rather change the places of thy woordes, and ſay thou haſt a wyfe with a great Dowrie: How muche more wyllyng wouldeſt thou be to ſhut her out of doores, yf thou myghteſt doo it without the money? Truely that marriage is ſhamefull, when as a Virgin is not brought to the bedde in hope of iſſue, but the deſyred Dowrie brought to the coffer by prouocation of couetouſneſſe.
Ioy.
My wyfe hath brought mee a great Dowrie.
Reaſon.
Speake more truely, a great price for thy libertie, whiche yf it had been deare vnto thee, as it ought, thou wouldeſt haue ſolde it for no money.
Ioy.
There is hapned vnto me a very rich wife.
Reaſon.
Thou ſpeakeſt nothyng of her condicions: for I thynke thou thoughteſt nothing of her maners, & of the chiefeſt Dowries in women, to wit, fayth, ſhame faſtneſſe, chaſtitie, & modeſtie: Theſe ye regarde not, and in your marriages ye reſpect only money & beautie, that is to ſay, couetouſneſſe and letcherie, fytte meanes for ſuch marriages.
Ioy.
My wyfe hath great ſtore of money.
Reaſon.
Marke whether that ſaying of Themiſtocles, wherein he concludeth, that he had rather haue a man without money, then money without a man, may not aptly be applied vnto women alſo?
Ioy.
My wife is very ryche.
Reaſon.
How muche better were it, to lyue
in quietneſſe with a poore wyfe, then to be troubled with a proud: and to be hungrie with a poore wenche that is humble, then to lyue in brawlyng with a ryche and inſolent Peacocke?
Ioy.
My wyues Dowrie is exceedyng great.
Reaſon.
It followeth that the pride of her minde is as great, and hath no regarde nor feare of her huſbande. Thou wylt not dare to reprehende her faultes when thou conſydereſt her Dowrie, thou wylt not preſume to humble her when thou remembreſt that thou art proud by her meanes, and thou muſt not onely put vp her loftineſſe, and tediouſneſſe, but alſo her checkes and iniuries. Doeſt thou not remember the Prince Aurelius Antonius, who loſt not the ſurname of a Philoſopher, although he were an Emperour? Who knowing his wiues whooredome, and when his friendes exhorted him eyther to put her to death, or to put her away, aunſweared: If I put away my wyfe, I muſt alſo reſtore her Dowrie, whiche was the Empire. Thus thou ſeeſt how a Dowrie brydled the minde of a moſt graue man, and great perſonage: and wyll not thy wyues bridle thee?
Ioy.
My wyues Dowrie is very great, infinite, and ineſtimable.
Reaſon.
The Dowrie of marriage was deuiſed to ſupport charges, not to prouoke couetouſneſſe And therfore the more it is increaſed, the more it is defamed, as by meanes of the greatneſſe thereof, doing hurt two wayes, declaryng both the impudencie of the geeuer, and encreaſing the greedineſſe of the receiuer.
Ioy.
My wifes Dowrie is very great
Reaſon.
It ſkilleth not how great the Dowrie be, but what maner of woman the wife is: and truely in a Dowrie, not ſo much the quantitie, as the qualitie is to be conſidered, to wit, from whence it came, and by what meanes it was gotten: for many great Dowries haue been gotten by euil meanes. Thou knoweſt the Hehopolitane and Punik
•
maner, whoſe marriages are not made by their countrey Religion, but their Dowrie is gotten by whooredome and filchineſſe.
Of pleaſant loue. The Lxix. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Enioy pleaſant loue.
Reaſon.
Thou ſhalt be ouercome with pleaſant ſnares.
Ioy.
I burne in pleaſant loue.
Reaſon.
It is well ſayde thou burneſt: for loue is a ſecrete fyre,
a pleaſaunt wounde, a ſauery poyſon, a ſugred bitterneſſe, a delectable ſickneſſe, a ſweete puniſhment, and a flatteryng death.
Ioy.
I loue, and am loued agayne.
Reaſon.
The firſt thou mayeſt knowe of thy ſelfe: the ſecond thou mayeſt ſtande in doubt of, vnleſſe thou take thy ſweete hartes ſecret talkyng in the night for a teſtimonie thereof.
Ioy.
Without doubt I am beloued.
Reaſon.
I perceyue ſhe hath perſwaded thee, and it is no hard matter to perſwade one that is wyllyng, for all louers are blinde and quicke of beleefe. But yf thou thynke that there be any truſt in a louers othe, then bring foorth the bil of thy louers hand which was written in the brittle Ice, whereunto the Southerne windes were witneſſes. But, O thou foolyſh man, neuer geue credite to a diſhoneſt woman: ſexe, heate, lightneſſe, cuſtome of lying, deſyre to deceyue, and the gaine of deceite, euery one of theſe, and muche more al theſe, maketh it ſuſpitious whatſoeuer commeth out of her mouth.
Ioy.
I loue that whiche delyghteth my mynde, and I burne in loue ſweetely.
Reaſon.
Thou thynkeſt to heare that of mee, whiche the Maiſter of loue ſayeth, That thou mayeſt reioyce in thy happy burning, and ſayle foorth with thy winde of pleaſure. But that is not my counſayle: For mine aduiſe is, that the more pleaſauntly thou burneſt, the more warely thou ſhouldeſt auoyde the fire. Euylles are neuer more perilous, then when they doo delyght: but many times a moſt ſharpe ende followeth ſuch ſweeteneſſe.
Ioy.
I loue, and am beloued.
Reaſon.
If it were ſo, what is it other then a double knotte, a neere linke, a greeuous daunger? I ſhoulde thynke the better of thee, yf thou diddeſt loue onely, and thou were not beloued agayne, although the facilitie and difficultie of loue be a lyke hurtfull, as ſome ſay, in that the minde is taken with facilitie, and ſtriueth with difficultie: Notwithſtandyng, I am of opinion, that there is nothing that: procureth loue more, then to be loued: and on the other ſide, nothyng more deterreth a man or woman from louing, then to knowe that he or ſhe is not beloued, neyther ſhall be loued. Howbeit the blinde and greedie minde of the louer, wyll not eaſily beleeue it, who is one of that ſort whereof it is written, That they whiche be in loue, deuiſe them ſelues dreames.
Ioy.
I loue with pleaſure.
Reaſon.
He that knoweth not in how yll caſe he is,
is without ſenſe: and he that reioyceth in his miſery, is madde.
Ioy.
I confeſſe that it is pleaſant vnto me to loue.
Reaſon.
I had rather it were hateful and grieuous vnto thee, that thou myghteſt be more redy to eſchewe euyll, and more neare to the hope of health: but now the delyght nooryſheth the diſeaſe, and he refuſeth to be whole, that taketh pleaſure in beyng ſicke.
Ioy.
Let euery man doo as hym lyſt, as for me it is my deſire to loue.
Reaſon.
As men commonly vnderſtand and ſpeake, but vnto me it ſeemeth ſeruile and baſe, and a thyng which dooth effeminate and weaken the moſt valiant men. I wyl tel thee that whiche euery man knoweth: there is no man but wyll woonder at it when he heareth it, the remembrance of great matters is ſo wonderful, yea to them that doo not knowe them. But to the ende that I may not recite all, whiche I thynke neyther to be neceſſarie nor poſſible, call to thy remembrance out of two moſt flooryſhyng nations, only two moſt excellent Captaynes, Iulius Caeſar, beyng conquerer in Fraunce, Germanie, Britanie, Spayne, Italie, Theſſalia, and Egypt, & agayne ſhortly after in Armenia, Pontus, Africa, & laſt of al againe in Spayne, like to haue the vpper hande: in the myddes of ſo many conqueſtes, he hym ſelfe was conquered at Alexandria by princely loue. Hannibal being conquerer at Ticinium, Trebeia, Traſimenus, Cannas, and at length to be ouercome in his owne countrey, fyrſt was ouercome at Salapia a Citie of Apulia, and that the matter myght be more haynous, he humbled hym ſelfe to the loue of an Harlo
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. Howe great ſeemeth the force of this miſchiefe vnto thee, whiche by ſo ſmal aſſault coulde inuade ſo ſtout mindes and ſo valient hartes, and with ſo brittle bandes hamper ſo ſwyft feete, and ſo ſtrong armes? I let paſſe fables and olde tales, howe Iupiter was tranſfourmed into beaſtes, and Mars caught in a ridiculus net, and Hercules ſpinning his ſtint vpon the diſtaffe, moreouer Leander in the ſurgies of the ſea, Biblis by teares, Procrys by her huſbandes dart, Pyramus by his owne weapon, and Hyphis peryſhyng by the Haulter, and, whiche is more certayne, and more credible, the Grecian Captaines fyghtyng for loue, & Troy burnyng with knowne fyre. Without all theſe, and a thouſande ſuche lyke, thoſe two captaynes
whom I ſpake of before, are ſufficient to prooue our purpoſe, eyther for the greatneſſe of theyr names, or for the trueth of the Hiſtorie.
Ioy.
I loue, what wyll you ſay of hatred, yf you condemne loue.
Reaſon.
As thou takeſt them, I condemne them both, neyther wyll I cal any thyng good therefore, becauſe it is contrary to euyl: For two extremities that are contrary one to the other, and of equal diſtaunce from the meane, that is to ſay, the vertue, are both euyl.
Ioy.
Then it is euyl to loue.
Reaſon.
That I confeſſe.
Ioy.
But I fynde nothyng better then this euyl.
Reaſon.
I thynke wel, as thy iudgement now ſtandeth, but thyne opinion concernyng matters, is affectionate and blinded.
Ioy.
Let them hate that lyſt, I wyl loue.
Reaſon.
I may wel terme hatred and loue, thyngs indifferent: For as it is lyke prayſe woorthy to hate vyce and to loue vertue, euen ſo both the hatyng of vyce, and louyng of vertue, are alyke to be condemned. To be ſhort, thou ſhalt ſcarce finde any thyng whiche of it ſelfe deſerueth eyther prayſe or diſprayſe, but that by meanes of ſome ſmal addition, prayſe and diſprayſe do come one into anothers place: and therfore take heede what thou loueſt.
Ioy.
What ſhould I loue, but that which other do loue?
Reaſon.
Al men loue not one thyng. There haue ben ſome that haue loued God ſo feruently, that for this loues ſake they counted it a vauntage to leeſe them ſelues and theyr lyues. Others there haue ben, who not lookyng ſo hygh, haue doone the lyke only for vertue, or theyr countreyes ſake: I would name theſe, but that they were innumerable.
Ioy.
I was neuer in heauen, neyther haue I at any tyme ſeene vertue, but I loue the thinges that can be ſeene.
Reaſon.
If thou loue nothing but that which may be ſeene, then loueſt thou no excellent thyng: yea, thou doeſt directly agaynſt the moſt common commaundement, Loue not the things that are ſeene, but the thinges that are not ſeene: For the thinges that are ſeene, are temporal, and the things that are not ſeene, are eternal. But you, beyng blynde in mynd, and geuen only to your eyes, are far vnmeete not only to loue, but to vnderſtand or thinke vpon any eternal thing: but ye folow thoſe things that ſhal periſh with you, & couering your filthy affections with an vnhoneſt cloke, ye terme letchery loue, whom ye worſhip, and, accordyng to the liberue of
your ſpeach, ye make hym a God, to the end he may excuſe your ſhame, which the heauen can ſcarce abide to couer. For what doth God commaunde to be doone that is euil? Goe your waies then, and build Aulters to your God, and offer incenſe vnto hym, he wil carrie you to heauen: nay rather, the God of heauen will throw both him and you dawne into hel togeather.
Ioy.
You turne the pleaſures of youth into ſlaunder, I loue, and therfore beare with me.
Reaſon.
If pardon be to be aſked of hym that is hurt, then forgeue thy ſelfe: for thou hurteſt none but thy ſelfe, and ah poore wretch, among what rockes dooeſt thou dryue thy ſlender boate?
Ioy.
I take pleaſure in liuing ſo, and I know not what ſhould forbyd me.
Reaſon.
It is a miſerable thyng to ſin, more miſerable to be delyghted in ſinne, & moſt miſerable to excuſe & loue ſinne: and then is the matter abſolute, when as to the ſtudie of pleaſure, a certayne opinion of honeſtie is adioyned.
Ioy.
I loue, neyther can or wyl I do other.
Reaſon.
Thou mighteſt yf thou wouldeſt, & perhaps hereafter thou wylt wyſhe thou hadſt. For thus it happeneth in many matters, but ſpecially in this ſickneſſe, that the ſame remedy whiche vertue hath long time aſſaied in vayne, continuance of tyme hath brought to effect.
Ioy.
There is no tyme ſhal ſee me otherwiſe then louing.
Reaſon.
Goe to then, play, reioyce in thy mad ſleepe, & thou ſhalt weepe when thou awakeſt.
Ioy.
I wyl not weepe, but ſing, & comfort my ſelfe with verſes, after the maner of louers,
Reaſon.
This is a point wherof much may be ſpoken, & ſeeyng thou leadeſt me vnto it, I wyl ſtay vpon it. Among many other thinges, I confeſſe, that the madnes of louers is wonderful, not only amōg the common people, among whom by cuſtome, growyng into nature, al madnes is excuſable, but alſo among the beſt learned in both tongues. For it is euident, that the Greeke Poets, & yours likewiſe, haue writ
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en plauſible ſomewhat of others loue, & much of their owne, & haue gained the glory of eloquence in that, wherin they deſerued the blot of reproche Amongſt the Grecians,
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app
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o was the moſt to be borne withal, whoſe age, ſexe, & lightnes of mind might wel excuſe a wench: but what ſhal we ſay to Anacr
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o
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, & Al
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aeus, who were both of thē not only famous poets, but alſo valiant men, & renowmed in their cōmon wealches for
theyr woorthy deedes: or what ſhall we ſay to your Poetes, Ouid. Catullus. Propertius, Tibullus, who haue written almoſt none other thyng then loue: Howbeit, why ſhould I blame the Poetes, vnto whom there is graunted more libertie in wrytyng, and not rather the Philoſophers, which are the gouernours and leaders of lyfe? In whiche reſpect thou maieſt alſo reioyce, that there was muche more grauitie in yours, then in the Greeke Philoſophers. For among yours, thou ſhalt ſcarcely fynde one, that hath not only not committed any ſuch follie, but alſo laughed at it, and condempned. But among them, a man would woonder, not only at the common ſort of them, but alſo at the Stoikes, whiche are the moſt preciſe ſect of Philoſophers, yea Plato hym ſelfe, whom we knowe to haue been in this errour. The Stoikes wyl haue a wyſe man to loue: and truely yf they can agree vppon the kynde of loue, they are not deceyued: For as I haue ſayde, a wyſe man wil loue GOD, and his neighbour, and vertue, and wyſedome, and his countrey, and his parentes, and his chyldren, and his brethren, and his friendes: and yf he be a perfect wyſe man, he wyll loue alſo his enimies, not for theyr owne ſakes, I confeſſe, but for his ſake that ſo commaundeth. Among al theſe thynges, I pray thee, what place is there lefte for beautie? For thus we reade it defined in Ciceroes Tuſculane queſtions, That loue is an indeuour to make friendſhyp, in reſpest of beautie. But who is ſo blind, that ſeeth not what this beautie meaneth? And therefore Cicero aptly demaundeth this queſtion, What loue of friendſhip is this, ſayth he? Why wyll not any loue an euyl fauoured young man, neither a wel fauoured olde woman? forſooth, age and fauour are here ſpecially reſpected, which are the foundations of this friendſhip, whiche by a more honeſt name, is rather called friendſhip then luſt, or ſenſualitie, but what in deede it is, it may be eaſily perceiued by open & ſound eyes. And therfore the matter commeth to this iſſue, that if there be any loue in al the world, without careful or vnhoneſt deſire, without ſighings and burning grief, the ſame is graunted to a wyſe man: it muſt be without al maner luſt or laſciuiouſnes, as the ſame Cicero ſayth, and without al vexation and trouble of mind, which of wyſe men are ſpecially to be auoyded. For as the appearance
of thynges may be couered by ſpeach, ſo can not the trueth of them be changed: and we ſpeake now of none other then the libidinous and ſenſual loue which cannot poſſibly be without many of theſe, and other great euyls. And thus much concerning the Stoikes. Now I come to Plato, who is called the prince, yea, the God of Philoſophers. And although there be great contention among many in this poynt, notwithſtandyng in euery controuerſie we muſt ſtand to the iudgement of the auncient and better ſort, and not of the greater number. Plato, I ſay, this great Philoſopher (that I may ſpeake if by the licence of ſo woorthy a man) hath written much more licentiouſly concernyng his filthy loues, although to a true philoſopher in deede, there is no luſt that is not filthy, and not to be alowed, then becommeth the name and grauitie of Plato to haue written. He hath written notwithſtanding, and, for which I am the more ſory, his works be extant, neyther was he aſhamed of the blot of ſo renowmed fame, nor the iudgement of poſteritie, the force of this paſſion of his mynde, and the ſweetneſſe of his ſtile which pricked foorth his pen, ſo far ouercommyng his care and feare in this behalfe, whiche he had now ſo abundantly in this filthie and ſhameful argument, that a man may ſooner diſcerne the beames of the Platonicke wit, in the wrytinges of the Epicures, then of the folowers of Plato. And this I perceyue to haue been the cauſe that many forſooke theyr wrytynges, which they myght eyther more honeſtly not haue written at al, or more wyſely haue ſuppreſſed, and alſo, as I geſſe, wylbe the cauſe heareafter that many wil do the lyke: but I haue now touched the chiefeſt. Thus haue I ſayde ſomewhat concernyng the reprehenſion of this madneſſe, and much more alſo may be ſayde, and for remedy therof not a litle. For as touchyng the comfort in this ſickneſſe, whereof thou ſpeakeſt, whiche thou imagineſt to come by verſes, let Hor
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ces ſhort verſe & demaunde be vnto thee in ſteede of an anſwere, Doeſt thou thinke that by theſe verſes thy paines, vexations, and greeuous cares may be driuen out of thy minde? By ſpeaking & ſinging, loue is nooriſhed and kyndled, not quenched and aſſuaged, ſo that thoſe ſonges and verſes of which thou ſpeakeſt, do not heale, but hurt thy woundes.
Ioy.
By your aduertiſment & experince I now begin to beleeue
you, and therfore ſetting other things apart, conuert your ſtile, yf it pleaſe you, vnto remedies.
Reaſon.
Many in fortymes haue gone about to get theſe togeather, among whom Ouid the great Phiſition loued better the ſickneſſe then the health, whoſe medicines, as may be ſeene, are ſome chyldiſh, ſome filthy, or without effect: Others alſo haue written, among whom hath Cicero, ſhortly, & effectually. To be ſhort, among al that I haue choſen and liked, theſe are in few: changyng of place, whiche as it is ſometyme holſome for the body, ſo is it alſo for the diſeaſed minde: diligent eſchewing of al thynges whereby the countenance of the beloued may be brought into remembrance: alſo buſiyng of the minde, and eftſoones conuertyng it vnto new cares and troubles, wherby the foote ſteppes of the former diſeaſe may be vtterly extynguiſhed: earneſt and continual thynkyng how ſhameful, how ſorowful, how miſerable, and laſtly, how ſhort, how ſlipperie, and how ſmal a thing it is that is ſought for by ſo many dangers and troubles, how much more eaſily and commodiouſly it might otherwyſe eyther be fulfylled, or wholy reiected, and reputed among the moſt vyleſt thyngs. Moreouer, ſhame hath cured many, which remedy happeneth to the moſt noble myndes, whyleſt they ſeeke to auoyde infamie and irriſion, & are loath to be poynted at as they goe in the ſtreetes, laying before theyr eyes the filthyneſſe of the thyng, voyde of effect, ful of ſhame, ful of danger, ful of iuſt cauſes of ſorow and repentance: laſt of al, ſettyng falſe excuſes and vayne perſwaſions aſide, to put on the true, to wyt, that neyther nature, nor deſtiny, nor ſtarres, beare any ſway in this matter, and finally nothyng, but only a lightneſſe and free iudgement of the mynde. For it is in the choyce of hym that is ſicke, to be made whole, ſo ſoone as he begynneth to haue a wyll to be whole, and can finde in his harte to breake of the pleaſant linkes of their ſweete companie, which is an hard matter to doo, I confeſſe, but poſſible to hym that is willing. For as Cicero ſayeth moſt grauely, This is to be declared which is found to be in euery perturbation, that it is nothing but in opinion, in the iudgment, and in the wyl. For yf loue were naturall, then all ſhould loue, & ſhould alwayes loue, & al loue one thyng, and then ſhame ſhould not deterre one, and muſing another, and ſaſietie another.
For this laſt, which is ſacietie or fulneſſe, is by ſome numbred among the remedies, and ſo is alſo a newe loue, wherby the old is dryuen foorth, as it were one nayle by another: which although vnto Artaxerxes kyng of Perſia, whom the holy ſcripture calleth Aſſuerus, it was put in mynd by friendes, and found profitable by effect, as Ioſephus declareth the matter more at large. I contend not of the euent, but I ſpeake of the choyce. And therefore truely I haue ben of opinion, that theſe two remedies haue ſometyme been profitable, but alwayes dangerous: and yf with none of theſe, nor with them al thou canſt recouer, then muſt thou in thy mynde run to the cauſes of the diſeaſe. Theſe, as I ſuppoſe, are the cheifeſt and greateſt of al, health, beautie, and good fauour, ryches, leaſure, youth. And as contraryes doo beſt cure the diſeaſes of the body, ſo wyl they excellently remedy the minde alſo, as ſickneſſe, deformitie, pouertie, great buſineſſe, and olde age, which is a worthy refourmer of the errours of youth. Theſe be my laſt remedies, which are hard in deede, but in reſpect of the greatneſſe of the plague, to be wyſhed.
Of the byrth of chyldren. The .lxx. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue chyldren borne vnto me.
Reaſon.
A double miſchief, and a domeſtical burden.
Ioy.
There are chyldren borne vnto me.
Reaſon.
Thy wyfe is troubleſome, her Aunt more troubleſome, and her children moſt troubleſome of al.
Ioy.
I haue chyldren borne.
Reaſon.
A moſt bytter ſweetneſſe, & gall annoynted with Hony.
Ioy.
I haue ſweete iſſue borne vnto me.
Reaſon.
Thynke that there is ſprong vnto thee at home a fountayne of grieuous cares: thou ſhalt neuer lyue without feare, and anguyſh.
Ioy.
I haue begotten children.
Reaſon.
Thou couldſt before neither feare, nor hope, nor pray: but now thou ſhalt learne to thy coſt, thou ſhalt learne alſo to take compaſſion vpon parentes bereaued of their chyldren, and thou ſhalt learne to experiment long cares in thy ſhort lyfe, & that now thou takeſt longer buſineſſe in hande, thou ſhalt learne to be greeued for the thynges that belong nothyng vnto thee, and to diſpoſe that which thou ſhalt neuer ſee: To be ſhort, thou ſhalt learne to loue another more then thy ſelfe, thou ſhalt learne to
loue moſt ardently, and to be loued moſt coldly, whiche are hard matters.
Ioy.
I haue chyldren.
Reaſon.
Now thou begynneſt to vnderſtande what duetie thou oweſt to thy parentes.
Ioy.
I haue begotten chyldren.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt planted a tree which muſt be huſbanded with intollerable paynes, whiche wyl keepe thee occupied as long as thou lyueſt, and whereof perhaps thou ſhalt reape either no fruite at al, or late fruite, and that peraduenture when thou art dead.
Ioy.
I haue chyldren.
Reaſon.
If they be good, a continual feare, yf they be wycked, a perpetual ſorow: in the meane whyle a doubtful comfort, and an vndoubted care.
Ioy.
I haue chyldren.
Reaſon.
Then haſt thou whereof to be ſory whyle thou art liuyng, and to be knowne when thou art dead, and wherefore thou mayeſt be willing to die often.
Ioy.
I am the father of good chyldren.
Reaſon.
The better thy chyldren are, the more daungerous is thine eſtate. Thou knoweſt not what cauſe of ſorowe thou haſt purchaſed by begetting chyldren, what entrance thou haſt made into thy houſe for teares, what power thou haſt geuen vnto death and miſerie ouer thy ſelfe. O wretched mothers, ſayth Horace: but O wretched fathers, ſay I.
Ioy.
I am father of very good children.
Reaſon.
Thou ſhouldeſt wiſhe for death while thou art in this proſperitie, leſt that whileſt thou lyueſt, thou ſurceaſe to be that whiche deliteth thee, and at length, with Neſtor thou demaunde of thy felowes, why thou haſt lyued ſo long.
Ioy.
I reioyce and am happie, for that I haue wiſhed iſſue.
Reaſon.
A troubleſome felicitie, a carefull ioy, and many tymes ſorowfull, a miſerable happineſſe. I coulde aleage many excellent men, whoſe felicitie was by nothyng ſo much hyndred, as for that they had chyldren.
Of a pleaſant young childe. The .lxxi. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue a pleaſant young chylde.
Reaſon.
If ſo be that this myrth turn not to ſorowe, and the pleaſanter thine infant is whyle he is preſent, the more ſorowful thou be when he is from thee.
Ioy.
I haue a chyld of good towardnes.
Reaſon.
What if in nothing? That age is of al other moſt frayle, and is many tymes cut of in the middes of their flowre. And as there is
nothing more ſweete, ſo is there nothing almoſt more bitter.
Ioy.
I haue a moſt flattering and pratling Infant.
Reaſon.
O, take heede that theſe flatteries turne not into teares. The ſight and pratlyng of a young chylde is very pleaſant, I confeſſe, and as it is written in Sta. Papinius▪
their heauenly lookes, and interrupted woordes, after the maner of verſes or mytre, whiche whyle they are heard, doo delight, when they can be heard no more, doo grieue, and can not be remembred without ſorowe. Thus in all worldly thinges, but in nothing more then in this, bitterneſſe is euermore ſet againſt ſweeteneſſe.
Ioy.
I am delighted in my moſt pleaſant Infant.
Reaſon.
I forbid thee not to be delighted, that I may not withſtand nature, but I ſeeke for a meane in al thinges, without which there is nothing wel doone. I would haue thee to reioyce more ſparingly, that if thou haue occaſion to be ſorie, thou mayſt alſo more ſparingly be ſorie: and I would wiſh thee to thinke, that it may eaſily come to paſſe that thou mayeſt truſt to a broken ſtaffe, or leane to a rotten wall, which Adriane the Emperour is reported to haue ſayde often, when he had adopted Aelius, who was a fayre chylde in deede, and but weake: and thou mayeſt alſo ſing to thy ſelfe this verſe of Virgil, The deſtinies ſhall onely ſhewe hym to the earth, but not ſuffer hym to liue longer.
Ioy.
I reioyce in my young Chyld.
Reaſon.
Reioyce ſo, as yf thou ſhouldeſt be ſory, eyther for that, as I haue ſaid, it may chaunce he may die, or, which is much more greeuous, and hapneth very often, of a moſt pleaſant chylde, become a moſt vnthankefull and diſobedient young man.
Ioy.
I ioy much in my young chylde.
Reaſon.
There is no huſband man ſo foolyſh that wyl reioyce much in the flowre, the fruite is to be looked for, and then he ought to reioyce moderatly. In the mean while tempeſtes, hayle, and blaſtinges are to be feared, and the ioy muſt be moderated with dreade.
Of the excellent fauour of Chyldren. The .Lxxii. Dialogue.
IOY.
MY Children fauour is excellent.
Reaſon.
If thou haue learned by mine inſtruction not to regarde thine owne fauour, then thou knoweſt how much thou haſt to eſteeme
of anothers.
Ioy.
The fauour of my children is great.
Reaſon.
A thing verie dangerous for the male kinde, but much more for the female: For beautie and chaſtitie dwel ſeldome togeather, they wyl not, and againe, if they would, they can not, ſeeing al humane thinges, eſpecially honeſtie can yf or kept in ſafetie now adayes, chiefely if it be ioyned with an excellent beautie. There be ſome whoſe beautie is enuied at, but that enuie keepeth it ſelfe within it owne boundes, ſome are ſory, ſome angry with their beautie as much as may be poſſible, many haue waxed olde, continuing vndefiled among the hatred of many, ſome haue ſhewed perpetual and vnquenchable tyrannie. How many ſaylers do paſſe euery day vpon ye calme ſea? how many Merchantes do trauayle through ye deſartes with their wares ſafe, & neither Pyrate meeteth with the one, nor the Theefe with the other? But what beautiful woman canſt thou name vnto me, that hath not been aſſayed? Although ſhe be chaſt, ſhe ſhalbe tempted and ouercome. What womans minde is able to reſiſt ſo many corrupters? The ſcaling ladders of ſugred woordes are ſet to the walles, the engines of giftes are planted, and the ſecret moynes of deceites are caſt vp vnder the grounde: If theſe meanes wyll not ſerue, then force is violently offered. If thou require proofe, call to thy remembraunce the moſt famous rauiſhmentes. Beautie hath tempted many, and cauſed many to be tempted, ſome it hath ouerthrowen, and driuen them into wickedneſſe, or to death. Among the Hebrues, Ioſeph was an example of vehement temptation, but the prouidence of God turned the danger into glory. Among the Grecians, Hippolytus and Bellerophon: and among you, Spurina, to the ende ſhe woulde not be tempted, defaced her ſelfe with her owne hands. Among ye fyrſt was no: Thamar? among the ſeconde was not the Greekish Penelope? among the thyrde was not the Romane Lucretia ſafe? Finally, among all ſortes, the moſt part haue been commonly eyther tempted, or ouerthrowen. Theſe be the fruites of this tranſitorie and brittle beautie, whiche many tymes haue not onely ouerthrowen whole houſes, but great Cities, and mightie Kyngdomes. Thou knoweſt hiſtories. Truely, yf Helen had not been ſo beautifull, Troy had ſtoode ſafe: yf Lucretia had not been ſo fayre, the
Romane kingdome had not ben ſo ſoone ouerthrowen: yf Virginea had not ben ſo beautiful, the auctoritie of the ten men had not ſo ſoone fayled, neyther Appius Claudius beyng ſo great a law maker among the Romanes, beyng vanquiſhed with luſt, had loſt his fame at the barre, and his lyfe in priſon. Finally, there haue been innumerable, who if they had not been ſo fayre as they were, there ſhoulde not haue been ſo many, that beyng forced and deceyued, haue fallen out of the caſtle of chaſtitie, into ſo great reproches and ruine of their ſoules: and therefore vtter what good effectes thou haſt founde in beautie, that they may be compared with their contraries.
Ioy.
My Chylde is paſſing beautifull.
Reaſon.
This beautie hauing enflamed the luſt of one called Meſſalina, chooſe whiche thou haddeſt rather of theſe twayne: eyther to deny, and ſo to be ſlayne at the louers commaundement, eyther to agree, and to peryſh by Claudius ſwoorde. Thus at one ſide by chaſtitie death is purchaſed, & by adulterie there is nothing but only a litle deferring of death procured: and this is the effect of this noble and excellent beautie. In this therefore, as in al other thinges, the mediocritie is commendable: and if any of the extremities were to be wiſhed, beautie is more delectable, but deformitie is more ſafe.
Ioy.
I haue a moſt beautifull Daughter.
Reaſon.
Be careful of treaſon, and beware of force. Doeſt thou thinke that there is but one Iaſon, or one Theſeus, or one Paris? Yes, there be a thouſand. To haue a Daughter, is a care and trouble: if ſhe haue beautie, there is feare, which thou canſt not auoyde but by death or olde age: for by marrying her into another houſe, thou ſhalt but tranſlate thy feare, and not extinguiſhe it.
Ioy.
I triumphe and reioyce in the ſingular heautie of my Children.
Reaſon.
For young folke to glorie and reioyce in theyr beautie it is a vayne thyng, but common: but for an olde man to reioyce in the beautie of his Chyldren, whiche vnleſſe he doated, he woulde perceyue to be full of vanitie, or ſubiecte to daungers, it is more follie, and next cooſen to madneſſe.
Ioy.
My Chyld hath an heauenly beautie.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt read, I thinke, the foure and twentie booke of Homers Iliades, where Priamus ſpeaking of his ſonne Hector. He ſeemed not, ſayeth he, to haue ben ye ſonne of a mortal
man, but of a God. This ſayd Priamus, but Achilles ſhewed that he was the ſonne of a mortall man, and not of a God: and remember thou likewiſe, that this heauenly beautie of thy chylde whereof thou ſpeakeſt, may be taken away and blemiſhed, and ſo long as it continueth, whatſoeuer accompt be made of it, it is but an vncertayne thyng. Howbeit the immoderate loue of fathers, whiche is enimie to vpryght iudgement, bringeth foorth theſe errours and trifles.
Ioy.
I haue a paſſyng fayre Daughter.
Reaſon.
If nothyng els chaunce, thy houſe muſt be moſt ſumptuous.
Of the valiencie and magnanimitie of a Sonne. The .Lxxiii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue a valient Sonne.
Reaſon.
The more valient he is, the more it behoueth thee to be fearefull: For Fortune layeth more dangers vpon none, then thoſe that contemne her, that is to ſay, Valient men. And not without good cauſe: for other men hyde them ſelues, and ſeeke to auoyde her force: but theſe lay themſelues open to her furie. Recall forepaſſed ages to memorie, and thou ſhalt perceyue, in a maner, all the moſt valient men conſumed by violent death.
Ioy.
My Sonnes valiencie is exceedyng great.
Reaſon.
Fortitude is a moſt excellent vertue, but accompanied with ſundry chaunces, and therefore ſee thou haue alwayes teares, and a coffin in a redineſſe: Death is at hande to all men, but neareſt to the valient.
Ioy.
My Sonne is a moſt valient man.
Reaſon.
Then haſt thou one that perhaps may purchaſe vnto his countrey libertie, to his enimies ſlaughter, to him ſelfe honour, and one day vnto thee teares, but feare continually.
Ioy.
My Sonne is valient, and of great courage.
Reaſon.
What other thyng dyd Creon bewayle in his ſonne that was ſlayne, then his couragious deſire of martial prayſe? What Enander in his ſonne Pallas, then his newe glory in armes, and the ſweete honour of his firſt encounter? Whereof dyd feareful Priamus admoniſh his ſonne Hector, then that he ſhould not alone expect Achilles? What doth ye careful mother entreat her ſonne, other then to ſhun that warlike champion? Finally, what dyd Hectors wyfe (beyng ignorant of the heauie chaunce that
alreadie was hapned) ſay that ſhe feared, other then her huſbandes well meanyng, and the heate of his minde, that was not able to ſtay hym out of the fyrſt aray of the Souldiours, but woulde rather runne before them all? Whiche thyng alſo ſhe feared at the beginning, when as ſhe ſpake vnto hym as he was going into the warres, in this maner, Doeth thy valiencie ſo deuiliſhy be witche thee, that thou takeſt compaſsion, neyther vpon thy Sonne, nor mee his Mother, who ſhall ſhortly be thy Wydowe? Laſtly, what other dyd Achilles mother ſay, beyng fearefull for her Sonne, Now muſt I ſeeke for my ſonne Achilles by Lande and Sea, and I woulde he woulde folowe mee? Whilſt in wayne ſhe tooke hym, being feeble, out of the garboyle of the hotte warres, and carrying hym into the pallace of the calme olde man, hyd hym vp in her virgins ſecrete cloſets. All theſe lamentations and feares were by nothyng els procured, then Martial force, and valient courage.
Ioy.
My ſonne is exceeding couragious.
Reaſon.
A great courage, without great power, is great follie. True valiencie and magnanimitie apparteine but to fewe men: although they that ſeeme moſt mighty & ſtrong, how weake they be in deede, many things beſides death do declare, but ſpecially death it ſelfe: ſo that it may be ſayde ſhortly and truely, There is nothyng more weake, nor more proude then man.
Ioy.
I haue a couragious ſonne.
Reaſon.
Reioyce therefore, for thy houſe ſhalbe full of great attemptes, and emptie of reſt and quietneſſe, and thou ſhalt often wiſhe that thy ſonne were not ſo couragious. To conclude, fortitude is a noble vertue, and magnanimitie beautifull, but both are painefull and troubleſome, and modeſtie is ſafe and quiet.
Of the Daughters chaſtitie, The .Lxxiiii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue a chaſte Daughter.
Reaſon.
A great ioy, but a careful: For the greater her chaſtity is, the more watching is luſt ouer her. For there is nothyng more ardently inuaded, then yt which is defended with chaſte watch, and womanly ſhamefaſtneſſe. When the corruptor hath won the path, he goeth foorth then
more ſlowly, and permitted thynges are more coldly deſired: a thyng that is muche coueted, is hardly preſerued.
Ioy.
My Daughters beautie is excellent.
Reaſon.
There it is then, where a very good thing miniſtreth matter to the moſt vileſt. The beautie of Lucretia was great, but nothing in reſpect of her honeſtie: ſo that the chaſtitie of this noble Matrone violently pricked foorth the hot young man to adulterie. Thus the wickedneſſe of the reprobate, abuſeth the ornamentes of the vertuous.
Ioy.
My Daughters chaſtitie is knowen.
Reaſon.
Pray that it may continue. Thou readeſt in the Poet, A woman is alwayes diuers and changeable: Which although Virgil ſayd it not, were it therefore leſſe true? How many haue we ſeene that haue been honeſt whyle they were young, and haue afterward prooued wanton in their age? And ſo ſtriuing with their preſent vices, againſt their forepaſſed honeſtie, doo ſeeme in a maner to repent them of their tyme honeſtly ſpent: a more foule reproche then whiche, there can chaunce in no ſexe and age.
Ioy.
I haue a moſt chaſte Daughter.
Reaſon.
If ſhe knewe her ſelfe; and vnderſtoode whoſe gift chaſtitie is, and geuing thankes vnto hym, coulde apply all her ſtudie to preſerue the ſame, & wou
•
d continue vndefiled in ſafetie, thou ſhalt then haue great cauſe (I confeſſe) to thanke God, and reioyce with her, more then yf thou haddeſt married her to a Kyng, and yet, beleeue me, ſome tyme to feare alſo: For ſince conſtancie is rare in al thinges, be ſure there is none at al in women.
Of a good ſonne in Lawe. The .Lxxv. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue a very good Sonne in law.
Reaſon.
Thou oughteſt to loue him more deere then thine owne ſonne, for thine owne ſonne commeth to thee by chaunce, but thy ſonne in lawe by choyce. Thanke therfore thy Daughter, who owing vnto thee Nephewes, hath now brought thee a ſonne.
Ioy.
Fortune hath brought vnto me a very good ſonne in lawe.
Reaſon.
In this kinde of affinitie, there be examples of notable fayth, and treaſon.
Seldome or neuer hath any Sonne been ſo faythfull to his father, as way Marcus Agrippa to Auguſtus Caeſar, as Marcus Aurelius to Antonius Pius, vnto whom euen vnto his liues ende, whiche was the ſpace of three and twentie yeeres, he ſo behaued hym ſelfe, that not onely he deſerued his loue and his Daughter, but alſo the ſucceſſion in his Empire as his Sonne, through his continuall fayth and diligence. But Nero was no ſuche ſonne in lawe vnto Claudius, although he not by his deſartes, but by his mothers policie, obtayned the Emperours daughter, and Empire.
Ioy.
I haue founde a courteous, and agreeable Sonne in lawe.
Reaſon.
Beware leaſt eyther the hope of ſucceſſion, or the ſeekyng after goodes, doo infringe this agreement. Who wyll not wyſhe that he may lyue, whoſe lyfe he ſeeth to be profitable vnto hym ſelfe? But yf he once begynne to attempt any thyng, ſo that perhappes he ſuppoſe thy lyfe to be an hynderaunce, or thy death begynne or ſeeme to be profitable vnto hym, then the affections of the mynde are changed, and ſecret hatred wyll ſoone breake foorth. And of what force the diſcorde is betweene the Father and the Daughters huſbande (to ſay nothyng of the auncient Fable of Danaus, and Nummianus, who was ſlayne by the wycked treaſon of Aprimus his Father in lawe, and likewyſe Stilico, who through the deſyre to reigne forgat his Father in lawe that was dead, and his Sonne in lawe that was lyuing) the moſt memorable example of Caeſar and Pompei, doth ſufficiently declare.
Of ſeconde Marriage. The .Lxxvi. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Meane to be married agayne.
Reaſon.
If thou kneweſt throughly what a woman were, or what excellent auctours doo write of her, thou wouldeſt not haue married at the firſt.
Ioy.
I entend to marrie againe.
Reaſon.
If thy firſt mariage haue not tamed thee, then marrie againe, & if ye tame thee not, then thou mayſt alſo marrie ye third time.
Ioy.
I am about to marrie againe.
Reaſon.
Who ſo hauyng chyldren by his fyrſt marriage, bringeth a Stepmother among them, he ſetteth his houſe afyre with is owne handes. If youth pricke thee, or letcherous olde age ſtyrre thee to luſt, then whiche there is nothing more filthie, perhaps (to ſpeake now more ciuilly then vertuouſly) it were more profitable, were it not the cauſe of ſinne, or forbyd by the lawe of God, to remedie the matter by keepyng a Concubine, then that a quiet houſe be diſturbed by Stepmothers tempeſts and hatred.
Ioy.
I entende to marrie againe.
Reaſon.
Thou maieſt do ſo by the lawe of man, the lawe of God rather ſuffryng it, then prayſing it: All men knowe what Sainct Paul ſayth concernyng that matter. And truely we may eaſily perceiue, how that among the Gentiles, who in that reſpect lyued in more libertie, this was more ſuffred, then lyked of. For your Forefathers dyd alwayes repute the experiment of many mariages, to be a token of a certayne lawfull intemperauncie: whiche opinion Sainct Ierome embracing, how muche he writeth agaynſt ſeconde marriages, and how ſharply, our promiſed breuitie wil not ſuffer vs to declare: whiche although it ſeeme al to be ſpoken agaynſt women, and not againſt men, & doubtles that ſexe ought to be the greater preſeruer of chaſtitie & honeſtie, notwithſtandyng there is more wiſedome and conſtancie required of men.
Ioy.
I haue neede of ſeconde mariage.
Reaſon.
I ſhould wonder, vnleſſe I knew your conditions: for you make not only vayne, but hurtful thynges alſo neceſſarie for you. And as for thee, thou haſt a very hard mouth, yf thou haue neede of another wife to brydle thee.
Ioy.
I make haſt to be married agayne.
Reaſon.
Too it then apace whyle thou art hotte, and when thou art cold, thou wylt repent thee: Haſt thou not noted how pleaſaunt ſleepe is in an emptie chamber? Thy minde is only bent vpon that filthie and miſerable act, which paſſeth away and woundeth.
Of the marriage of Chyldren. The .Lxxvii. Dialogue.
IOY.
MY ofſpring is encreaſed by the marriage of my children.
Reaſon.
This care is ſomwhat more cōmendable then the laſt was, and yet notwithſtanding, the encreaſe of the hines hath often been more profitable, then the bodyly iſſue: The one filleth the caſke with pleaſant wine, the other annoyeth the friende with bytter cares.
Ioy.
I haue beſtowed my daughter in mariage.
Reaſon.
If thou haue ſo doone circumſpectly and happily, thou haſt both preſerued thy daughter, and founde a ſonne, or as I haue ſayde erewhyle, one better then a ſonne: but yf thou haue doone otherwyſe, then haſt thou both caſt away her, and purchaſed to thy ſelfe an enimie, and to thy daughter a Tyrant.
Ioy.
I haue beſtowed my daughter in mariage.
Reaſon.
If ſhe were a good daughter, thou haſt bereft thy ſelfe of a ſweete and pleaſant iewell, and tranſported it into an other mans houſe: If ſhe were an euyl daughter, thou haſt eaſed thy ſelfe of an heauy burden, and laden therewith another man.
Ioy.
I haue married my daughter.
Reaſon.
Reioyce not to muche at it, Maryage hath been vnto many the begynnyng of a careful and vnfortunate lyfe: and admit that al thynges fall out happyly, a wyfe is a trouble ſome thyng, and thou haſt ſent foorth her whom thou loueſt, about an harde labour and a payneful buſineſſe. Chyldren wyl come at home, and thereof wyll ſpryng vp a peculiar fountayne of cares: But yf there come non
•
, then that is a miſerie and griefe. Thus fruitefulneſſe ſhal make her burdenſome, and barrenneſſe ſhall make her odious, and perhaps ſhe wyll wyſhe ſhe had taryed at home with thee, and wyll haue this thy ouerhaſtie loue in beſtowyng her.
Ioy.
I haue gotten an huſbande for my daughter.
Reaſon.
The ende of an idle lyfe, and the begynnyng of a payneful, an heauie burden of houſehold cares, the knowledge of the worlde, and the tri
••
or herſ
•••
e.
Ioy.
My daughter is married.
Reaſon.
But ſhe
•
oth
〈◊〉
her libertie, her virginitie, & her quietneſſe, whiche is n
•
indifferent change.
Ioy.
I haue prouided a wyfe for my ſonne,
Reaſon.
The bringing home of a daughter in law is worſe then ye ſending
•
ooth of thine owne daughter, foraſmuch as ciuil war is alwayes
more dangerous then forraigne. Thou haſt ſet open thy Caſtle gates perhaps to an enimie, or truely to a partner, for nowe thou art not Lord and maiſter alone of thyne owne goodes, and therfore it ſkylleth to know what maner one thou letteſt in.
Ioy.
I haue prouyded for my ſonne, a noble, ryche, and a fayre wyfe.
Reaſon.
Why dooeſt thou conceale that whiche followeth, to wyt, a proude, and an importunate one, who is enuious of her huſbande, and of thy lyfe? There is auncient war betweene the huſbandes father and the ſonnes wyfe, and neyther of them hath the greater vauntage, but equal feare, for they be both in one ſtate and condition. There is no lyuyng thyng that ſo much affecteth the hygher place, as dooeth a woman: For in caſe ſhe perceyue her ſelfe (by meanes of your lyfe) debarred thereof, what ſhe imagineth then in her mynde, and what ſhe wyſheth, it were an harde matter to coniecture.
Ioy.
I haue marryed my ſonne to a wife.
Reaſon.
What knoweſt thou whether thou haue procured an euerlaſtyng weeryſomneſſe to hym & thy ſelfe, or perhaps ſecrete danger to you both? Many daughters in law, haue conſumed theyr fathers in law, and huſbandes, with continual pryde and doggedneſſe: ſome haue made them away with poyſon, and ſome haue ſhortened theyr dayes with a weapon. Howe many ſonnes had Egiſthus, before he had euer a daughter in lawe? Yea, there hath ben founde ſuche a daughter in lawe, who beyng carryed away with deſyre to raigne, and impaciencie of the ſeconde roomth, to the ende ſhe myght the ſooner ſee her huſband and her ſelfe poſſeſſe the gouernment, hauyng procured the death of her owne father, cauſed her Chariot to be driuen ouer his ſtayne carkaſſe: If this be the rewarde of fathers at their owne chyldrens handes, what ſhal the ſonnes father looke for at his ſonnes wiues hands?
Ioy.
I am glad that I haue celebrated my daughters maryage.
Reaſon.
How many tymes hath an vnlucky euent diſturbed this celebration? and teares & tumultes folowed ſongs, and banquettes, and dauncinges? All immoderate ioy is fooliſh, ſpecially in theſe thynges whereout ſorow may and woonteth to aryſe.
Ioy.
I haue both prouided a wyfe for my ſonne, and an huſband for my daughter.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt chaunged burdens, thou haſt layde a ſtrange care vpon thyne owne ſhoulders,
and carryeſt thyne owne care vpon other mens ſhoulders.
Of Nephues. The .lxxviii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue a younge Nephue, borne of my ſonne.
Reaſon.
A great loue of thy ſonnes, and a continuall care, notwithſtandyng it hath a certeine ende: but if it paſſe any further, there is no ende of carefulneſſe, and both he that is borne of thy ſonne, and he likewyſe that ſhalbe borne of him, finally, all of them, are borne to thy payne, whoſe number, how farre it proceedeth, or may proceede, thou knoweſt. He that was the father of the people of Iſrael, yf he, beyng affected as thou art, had in ſuche ſort lyued duryng the lyfe cyme of our fyrſt fathers, howe great a burden of cares ſhould there haue reſted vpon the weeryed olde mens ſhoulders: For beſides Prieſtes, and women, and chyldren, and other vnhable perſons, there ſprang of his lyne in fewe yeeres aboue ſixe hundred thouſande fyghtyng men. Goe thy wayes nowe, and boaſt thee in the armies of thy Nephues, among whom yf perhaps there be any happy, there muſt needes be wretched of them innumerable. What then? ye muſt neuertheleſſe not only loue your ſonnes and Nephues, but al men alſo: Ye muſt loue them, I ſay, in hym in whom ye be all brethren: notwithſtandyng, thou muſt not be careful, nor to immoderately glad, leaſt preſently thou be vexed with contrary affections, and it repeathee ſometyme to haue reioyced, and thou be aſhamed that thou art conſtrained to hate hym, being a man, whom thou loue
•
ſt dearely ſomtime when he was a chylde, as it many times happeneth.
Ioy.
I haue a Nephue borne.
Reaſon.
It may chaunce ſo to fal out, that either through the wickedneſſe of thy Nephue, or perhaps the force of fortune, thou wylt cal that an vnhappy day, which now thou thinkeſt to be fortunate. Yea, peraduenture the childe may dye ſhortly, & ſo purchaſe thee as much ſorrow, as euer he procured thee ioy. There be many, & diuers, and ſuddyne, and vnlooked for chaunces, that happen vnto men, but
〈…〉
innumerable. If all ſhoulde lyue that are borne, the
〈…〉
not holde mankinde, no though they liued not
continually, for if they ſhould liue continually they were not men, but euen vntyl they came to olde age, or vnto ripe & lawful yeres. Wherfore, it is a follie to conceiue great ioy of a very ſhort thing, and vncertayne to what ende it wyll come, which is found to be true in chyldren and nephues, but ſpecially in nephues, and moſt eſpecially now in nephues chyldren, the further they be diſtant from the roote.
Ioy.
I haue nephues borne of my mother, my daughter, and my ſiſter.
Reaſon.
Theſe apparteyne leſſe vnto thee, commit this ioy and care vnto their fathers.
Ioy.
I haue a nephue borne of my brother.
Reaſon.
So was Luca
•
e nephue vnto Anneus Seneca, who proued to be no ſmal part of the Spanyſhe eloquence, and likewyſe Iugurtha vnto Mycipſa kyng of Numidia, who was not the laſt example of the Libyan treacherie, the deſtroier of his countrey, & murtherer of his brethren.
Ioy.
I haue a nepheue borne of my ſiſter.
Reaſon.
So was Pſenſipus Nephue vnto Plato on the ſiſters ſyde, and in a maner his heire in Philoſophie: lykewyſe Alcibiades ſuche a Nephue to Pericles, the diſturber of his countrey, and the rayſer of the warres in Greece: and Brutus alſo to Targinius the proude, who threw hym downe from his kingly dignitie, & was a great man, & profitable to his countrey, but vtter enimie to his Vncle.
Ioy.
I haue a Nephue borne of my daughter.
Reaſon.
Innius, beyng a modeſt and graue man, was Nephue by the daughter vnto Pacunius, and ſucceeded hym in Poetrie, and ſo was Commodus vnto Antonius pius, a moſt ſhameleſſe and lyght perſon.
Ioy.
I haue a Nephue borne of my daughter.
Reaſon.
Romulus and Remus, beyng nephues vnto Numito
•
of his daughter, reſtored theyr grandfather to his kyngdome of Alba. Aucus Martius, beyng Nephue vnto Numa by his daughter, poſſeſſed his grandfathers kyngdome at Rome with great honour: But Cyrus that was Nephue vnto Aſtiages of his daughter, expulſed his grandfather out of the kyngdome of the Medes. Theſe Hiſtories are aleaged to this purpoſe, that concernyng the byrth of nephues, howe muche may be hoped, ſo muche alſo may be feared.
Of adopted chyldren, huſbandes children by a former wyfe, and wyues children by a former huſbande, The .lxxix. Dialogue.
Ioy.
I Haue adopted a ſonne.
Reaſon.
Adoption is handmayden vnto nature, whiche although ſhe be the more noble, yet is adoption the more warie, and that whiche nature doth without aduice of the begetter, and as it were by chaunce, in adoption the ſame is accompliſhed by the iudgement of him that adopteth.
Ioy.
I haue gotten a good ſonne by adoption.
Reaſon.
Thou oughteſt do ſo, yf thou haue neglected it: for as begettyng, ſo is not election excuſable, herein thou canſt not blame thy wyfe, nor accuſe fortune.
Ioy.
I haue adopted a ſonne.
Reaſon.
This ciuyl remedy was deniſed wel to helpe nature. The ſame hath ben experimented to haue been profitable, & to ſome peſtiferous. Nerua adopted a good ſonne, but I knowe that ſome writers are of opinion, that Traiane was deceyued in his adoptyng. And that Auguſtus was deceyued in adoptyng his Nephue Agrippa, his puttyng of hym away, which ſhortly after happened, doth teſtifie: but that he was not deceyued in the adoptyng or ſuccedyng of Tiberius, I perceyue hym almoſt conſtrayned therunto to confeſſe the ſame, by puttyng certaine of his friendes to death, which his owne ſpeache alſo declareth, and the preface of his laſt Wyland Teſtament. But Myſipſa, of whom I made mention not long ſince, was altogeather an vnfortunate adopter, ſendyng not a ſonne, but rather a cruel Dragon, into his Palace among his chyldren: whom although, whyle he lay a dyeing, he exhorted ſo to lyue that he myght not ſeeme to haue adopted better chyldren then he had begotten? Howbeit, for the more part better are adopted then begotten, and no maruayle, ſince the one is guyded by experiment and aduyce, and the other by neyther. But many tymes it falleth out contrary wyſe, that not worſe only, but worſt of al, are adopted: For man is a cloſe and doubtfull merchandize.
Ioy.
I haue a good ſonne in lawe.
Reaſon.
Seldome is there founde a good ſonne in lawe, but more ſeldom, a good father in lawe.
Ioy.
I haue a good ſonne in
lawe.
Reaſon.
What matter is it vnto thee howe good he be? vnleſſe thou reioyce as beyng thy wyues factour. For what ſhal the vertue of another mans childe auayle thee, but only to bewray the lewdeneſſe of thyne owne chyldren?
Ioy.
I haue a very good and faythful ſonne in lawe, not inferiour to any of my chyldren.
Reaſon.
It may be ſo. Suche a ſonne in lawe was Druſus to Auguſtus, but not Nero ſuche an one to Claudius.
Of an excellent Schoolmaiſter. The .lxxx. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Vaunt of myne excellent ſchoolemaiſter.
Reaſon.
Thou ceaſſeſt not yet to boaſt of that which is another mans: For what doeth the excellencie of thy ſchoolemaiſter apparteine vnto thee? Beleeue me, which I repeate oftentymes, it muſt be within thee, which muſt make thee glorious.
Ioy.
I glorie in an excellent ſchoolemaiſter.
Reaſon.
Let hym in the meane tyme enioye as he liſt that which is his owne, and glorie alſo if he pleaſe, although yf he be very excellent in deede, he wyll not doo it, and touchyng thy ſelfe we wyl ſay ſomewhat hereafter.
Ioy.
I haue a notable ſchoolemaiſter.
Reaſon.
I long to heare what manner ſcholar
〈◊〉
art? For before I know that, I can pronounce no certeintie. How many fooles and dullardes
〈◊〉
thou were
•
here in the ſchooles of Socrates and Plato? Howe many without any ſchoolemaiſter at all, haue by their owne induſtrie become excellent, inſomuch that they became ſchoolmaiſters vnto ether, that had no ſchoolemaiſters thēſelues? We reade not that Virgil had any ſchoolemaiſter. The Poet Horace ſpeaketh nothyng of his ſchoolemaiſter, but that he was very liberal of his whipping cheare, which I ſuppoſe he meant of the ſtripes whiche he receiued beyng a chylde. Cicero would not aduaunce his ſchoolemaiſter with great and moſt woorthie prayſe, neyther coulde he: On the other ſyde, his ſonne, by what inſtructers and ſchoolemaiſters he was brought vp, namely his owne father, and Cratippus prince of Philoſophers at that tyme, yf we beleeue Cicero, it is apparant, neuertheleſſe howe
notable a knaue, and famous drunkarde, he became, it is well knowne, who myght haue ben learned and ſober, had it ben with the only looke and example of his father. Plato hymſelfe, although as I haue ſayde before, he boaſt of his ſchoolemaiſter Socrates, yet is it more for his glory that he excelled Socrates, then that he learned vnder him.
Ioy.
I haue a verie learned ſchoolmaiſter.
Reaſon.
The ſchoolemaiſters learning may be profitable vnto the ſcholar, but it cannot be glorious: yea, whereat thou mayeſt the more maruayle, he may diminyſh thy fame, and exaggerate thy ſlouthfulneſſe: but thou haſt ſhut from thy ſelfe all meanes of boaſtyng, and of excuſe: thy knowledge ſhalbe aſcribed to thy ſchoolemaiſter, and thyne ignoraunce to thy ſelfe: And therfore thou haſt no cauſe to glory, but rather to aſpire vnto glory. Thou haſt ſuche an one whom thou wouldeſt be wyll
•
ng to folowe and attayne vnto, not whom thou muſt
•••
nke thy ſelfe to be, for that thou art his ſcholar. To be ſhort, there is in hym not whiche thou haſt, but whiche thou coueteſt and hopeſt to haue, and that not without thy great ſtudy and trauayle.
Ioy.
I haue a woorthy man to my dayly ſchoolemaiſter.
Reaſon.
Ciceroes ſonne, of whom we ſpake erwhile, had two notable men to his ſchoolemaiſters, whereof the one inſtructed hym with bookes at hande, the other with woordes from a far, but howe muche he pr
••••
d thou haſt hearde. Do we not knowe, that many Princes chyldren haue had many excellent ſchoolemaiſters at one tyme? But what auayleth it to haue them that teache, yf there be none to learne? If the patient be not aptly diſpoſed, the force of the Agent woorketh in vaine. Veryly, yf to looke vpon, and to ſpeake with learned men, would make the lookers on, and the conferrers learned, although we ſee fewe deſirous of vertue or learnyng, notwithſtandyng we ſhoulde ſee great concourſe and reſort vnto them.
Of a notable Sholar. The .lxxxi. Dialogue.
IOY.
FOrtune hath brought me a notable ſcholar, whom I loue al
•
oſt more dearely then mine owne childe.
Reaſon.
It is a
troubleſome buſineſſe to fourme thy wyt vnto the vnequal ſteps of a chyldes capacitie, and alwayes to haue thine eyes and mynde bent vppon one chylde, and to ſubmit thyne vnderſtandyng and voyce vnto his habilitie and ſufferance. But yf thou haue moe ſcholars, then haſt thou a greater heape of traueiles in hand, which wil toſſe thee, & tumble thee, this way & that way, & as the Satyrial Poet ſayeth, To obſerue ſo many moouing and wauering hands and eyes of children without ende.
Ioy.
I haue one onely moſt excellent ſcholar.
Reaſon.
For one notable ſcholar, thou expoſeſt thy ſelfe to many ſecrete iudgmentes: Wherein ſoeuer he offendeth, it ſhal redound vnto thy diſcredite. Behold his learnyng, wil men ſay, his eloquence, his manners: ſee the ſcholemaiſter in the ſcholar, there can be expreſſed no better reſemblance of a man, then of his diſpoſition.
Ioy.
I haue gotten a famous ſcholar.
Reaſon.
Go to then, thou haſt great hope of glorie, his profiting ſhalhe aſcribed vnto his owne wit, & his default vnto thy negligence: for as much as Plutarche the Philoſopher writeth vnto his ſcholar Traiane the Emperour, that the publique report vſeth to lay the faultes of the ſcholars vpon theyr ſcholemaiſters: whiche, as we reade, many haue founde to be true, among whom was Quintiliane, and Seneca, and the father of Philoſophers, Socrates hym ſelfe.
Ioy.
I haue famous ſcholars.
Reaſon.
It were better they were modeſt, howbeit, there is no true fame and renowme without ſome ſparkle of vertue.
Ioy.
I haue the charge of a great ſcholar.
Reaſon.
Thou encountreſt with a threefourmed Monſter, at one ſyde to profite the chylde, on the other to pleaſe the parentes, and thirdly to render an accompt to the common wealth, which ſhe wyll require at thy handes, in lookyng for hym to be inſtructed, who was altogeather ignorant and vnlearned when he was committed vnto thee.
Ioy.
The charge of a noble chylde, is repoſed in my credite.
Reaſon.
His age, & nobilitie are to be ſuſpected. The one, ſignifieth that he wyll be vnmyndful, the other, that he wyl be proude.
Ioy.
The chylde that is put in truſt vnto me, ſtandeth in awe of me.
Reaſon.
What wylt thou ſay, yf he contemne thee, when he is a Springall, and wyll ſcarce knowe thee
when he is a man? The fayth and conſtancie of chyldren is well enough knowen.
Ioy.
The Chylde that I haue in truſt, loueth mee.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt printed a marke vpon an vnfiniſhed wall, whiche ſhal be put out as the wal encreaſeth: faythfull loue requireth a ſounde age.
Ioy.
I haue a noble Chylde to teache.
Reaſon.
An vnquiet chaunce, an vncertaine euent: ſome wittes there be whom no diligence can amende. Sometime the Father leeſeth his coſt, the Schoolemaiſter his traueyle, the Chylde his tyme. Teache hym that is apt, trouble not hym that is vnapt to learne, weerie not both thy ſelfe and hym in vayne: Art hardly ouercommeth nature.
Ioy.
There hath chaunced vnto me a young Scholar, and not vnapt to learne.
Reaſon.
Although thou ſtand vpon a ſlipperie ground, and buylde vppon an vncertayne foundation, notwithſtandyng, looke faythfully to that whiche is put in truſt vnto thee. If he be of ripe yeeres, he may remember it: otherwyſe his is the forgetfulneſſe, and thyne is the truſt: Vertue is a ſufficient rewarde to it ſelfe. There is nothing more ſweete, then a conſcience bearyng a man witneſſe of his good deedes. Let not diſpayre of rewarde, withdrawe thee from vertue, for that euen in this lyfe there is no good deede vnrewarded, the moſt plentifull fruite whereof, as the wyſe men haue ſayde, is to doo it, and to remember it in ſilence.
Ioy.
I haue founde a Scholar of great towardneſſe.
Reaſon.
And truely of great troubleſomneſſe, and yf he prooue good, thine hart hath begotten thee a ſonne, and thy tongue hath brought hym foorth: yf euyll, an enimie, who ſo often as he ſhal remember how he ſtoode in feare of thee, wyll hate thee.
Ioy.
The bryghtneſſe of my Scholar is very great, whereby I hope to ſhyne.
Reaſon.
Moderate bryghtneſſe delyghteth the eyes, but immoderate offendeth them. Moreouer, none wyll lyghten thee, vnleſſe thou ſhyne of thy ſelfe, and although thou be couered, the true lyght is within.
Ioy.
I haue a great Scholar.
Reaſon.
No greater, I thynke, then had Seneca. Some Scholemaiſters haue been defended, and ſome oppreſſed by the greatneſſe of theyr Scholars, and vnto ſome they haue been an aſſured Hauen, and vnto ſome a moſt daungerous Rocke.
Of a good Father. The .Lxxxii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue a good Father.
Reaſon.
Acknowledge then thy good, for it is but ſhort.
Ioy.
I haue a very good Father.
Reaſon.
He wyll procure griefe vnto thee, or thou vnto hym.
Ioy.
I haue a moſt tender Father.
Reaſon.
If the order of nature be obſerued, great heauineſſe remayneth vnto thee for inheritaunce, but yf the order be peruerted, the lyke abydeth hym.
Ioy.
I haue a Father yet.
Reaſon.
Vſe him with diligence, this is a frayle pleaſantneſſe, and thy Father is an old man.
Ioy.
I haue an olde man to my Father.
Reaſon.
There is now no place for lingring: make haſte to gather the laſt fruite as it were from a ruinous tree. Keepe him companie as much as thou canſt, ſee him diligently as yf he were immediatly departyng, but heare him more willingly, and lay vp his laſt aduertiſementes in thy careful minde, and when thou goeſt from him, leaue him furniſhed with neceſſaries, as yf thou were goyng a farre iourney. The tyme wyll come thou ſhalt lacke his counſell, and ſhalt ſeeke him, and not fynde hym at home.
Ioy.
I haue an extreame olde man to my Father.
Reaſon.
Make haſte to ſhewe the laſt duetifulneſſe of vertue towardes hym whyle there is tyme, yf thou omit any thyng now, thou wylt alwayes be ſorie.
Ioy.
I haue a vertuous Father.
Reaſon.
Then haſt thou ſuche an one, as deſireth to dye before thee, and feareth to lyue after thee.
Ioy.
I haue a very good Father.
Reaſon.
Thou ſhalt not knowe what he was, before thou want hym, and for whom thou wylt lament, when thou haſt loſt hym.
Of a moſt louing Mother. The .Lxxxiii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue a moſt louing Mother.
Reaſon.
But thou art vnto her a continual feare and carefulneſſe.
Ioy.
I haue a moſt louing Mother.
Reaſon.
The Fathers loue is greateſt, but the Mothers loue is moſt vehement, and both their loues are ſuch, and ſo great, that the affection of the childe, vnleſſe it be very rare, can ſcarce counteruayle it. Notwithſtanding, the contention
betweene the Parentes and the Children, in ſhewing loue and duetie one towardes another, is commendable and vertuous, & let them haue the victorie vpon whom the fountaine of heauenly charitie is moſt abundantly powred. But hytherto the Parentes haue the vpper hand, neyther is yet the duetifulneſſe of the Chyldren, or their reuerence towardes their elders and progenitours ſuche, that it may miniſter iuſt cauſe that we ſhoulde thinke it woulde be otherwyſe: but if it ſhoulde chaunce ſo to happen beſides expectation, there were no ſight in the earth that coulde be deuiſed more acceptable vnto the heauens.
Ioy.
I haue a verie good Mother.
Reaſon.
Be thou at leaſtwiſe a good childe vnto her: remember that thou was firſt a burden and coyle vnto her, and afterwarde a moſt bitter payne, and laſtly a continuall trouble, and ielous carefulneſſe. Thinke on her wombe that bare thee, and her breaſtes that gaue thee ſucke, how many ſleepes, and how many meales or pleaſures thou haſt broken her of by thy crying? What feare and ſorowe thou haſt procured her by thy chaunces, and ſometymes alſo perhaps perilous pleaſures. Many tymes, as the feare of chyldrens death hath enforced the wretched Mothers to ende their lyues, ſo alſo hath the ioy of their lyfe. This laſt poynt appeared playnely that day, wherein they that remayned after the ſlaughter at Thraſimenus, beyng diſperſed, returned ſafe to their friendes: and when two Mothers, who thought no leſſe but that their ſonnes were ſlayne in the battayle, ſawe them notwithſtanding come agayne in ſafetie, not being able to ſuſteine the force of ſo ſodayne a ioy, they dyed preſently. So that by this and ſuche lyke examples it is truely verified, that amongſt men there is no greater ingratitude then that which is ſhewed agaynſt the Mother.
Ioy.
My Mother is yet lyuing an olde woman.
Reaſon.
As often as thou lookeſt vpon her, and beholdeſt the earth alſo, thinke from whence thou commeſt, and whyther thou ſhalt, out of how narrowe a place thou cameſt, and into how narrowe an one thou ſhalt depart, to witteout of the wombe of thyne owne Mother, into the bowelles of the Earth, that is mother of al thinges. Among all the thinges therefore, which between theſe twaine do delight, and buſie the minde, drawe backe the raynes of pryde and couetouſneſſe.
Of good Brethren, and louing and fayre Siſters. The .Lxxxiiii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue louyng Brethren.
Reaſon.
A rare matter, for parentes for the moſt part doo alwayes loue, but brethren moſt commonly doo hate and deſpiſe one another. And therefore the trueth cryeth out by the mouth of the Poet Ouid, That ſeldome is loue ſounde among brethren:
whereas there is noted the wickedneſſe and vndutifulneſſe of brethren, children, and almoſt al ſortes of men, exceptyng parentes.
Ioy.
I haue very good Brethren.
Reaſon.
Truely I woonder at it, it is enough that they be good, for moſt tymes they be euyll, and the worſt of all other, and ſo much worſe then open enimies, by how much there is leſſe heede to be taken of domeſtical treacherie. How great the loue of brethren is, that I may not bryng to lyght them that are vnknowen, nor offende them that are preſent, the moſt famous couples, the Micenian, the Thebane, and the Romane brethren, doo declare: which infamie, why it ſhoulde more redounde vnto one citie, then to the whole worlde, I ſee no cauſe. Beholde the firſt brethren that were in the worlde, one was ſlayne by the hand of the other: and yet haſt thou not heard? a moſt horrible miſchiefe to tell, for Phraates, king of the Parthians, of whom I ſpake before, beſide his moſt deteſtable parricide in murdering at one time his owne father and natural ſonne, we reade how he ſlue moreouer his thirtie brethren, not fearyng by ſo foule a maſſacre and bloodſhed, to eſtabliſh his yl gottten kingdome, and vtterly to extinguiſhe al feare of competitours.
Ioy.
My Brethren are good.
Reaſon.
I ſuppoſe you haue not yet deuided your inheritaunce, for then your malice wylbreake foorth: Golde is tryed by fyre, and ſo is the minde by golde. That agreement whiche ſeemeth to be great, is oftentymes ouerthrowen by a litle golde.
Ioy.
I haue louyng Brethren.
Reaſon.
Perhaps thy ſingle lyfe, or lacke of children cauſeth them to loue thee. Thy marrying wyl diſcouer them, but hauing of chyldren more better, when they ſhal perceyue them ſelues depriued of the hope of ſucceſſion, whiche hope hath cauſed the moſt impatient to ſuffer muche.
Ioy.
I haue brethren that loue me moſt deerely.
Reaſon.
It ought to be ſo, vnleſſe malice, or feare, or couetouſneſſe, or immoderate deſire to haue: which whyle it coueteth to be ſatiſfied, quite forgetting the lawe both of God and man, doo hinder it. How great ſo euer the loue be betweene the parentes and the chyldren, yet are the maners and conuerſation diuers, which although the parentes doo perceiue quickly, yet do they acknoledge it too late. Although fathers loue their chyldren at the fyrſt, yet it is long are they receyue them into familiaritie, yea, many tymes in theyr
••••
age. But brethren, before they be borne, & after they be borne, are conuerſant togeather in one houſe, and are wrapped in the ſame cl
•
utes, and are of equall yeeres, and of lyke maners. So ſoone as they be borne, they ſee one another, are fed with the ſame meate, vnder the ſame parentes, are accuſtomed vnto the ſame felowes, to the ſame paſtimes, to the ſame Schooles, to the ſame Schoolemaiſters and bryngers vp, they grow vp togeather, they w
••
men togeather. There is equalitie betweene them on euery ſyde, and loue confirmed and eſtabliſhed by many aſſured knottes and indiſſoluble linkes, vnleſſe ſome accidental cauſes doo breake them, and the hardneſſe of a rough minde doo infringe them, whiche is ſo common a thyng, that I knowe not whether there ought to be any loue greater, then betweene brethren, or any malice be more cankred, or diſpleaſure more deepe: equalitie is alwayes ſo troubleſome a thyng, and mans minde ſo impacient of a match.
Ioy.
I haue vertuous and godly brethren.
Reaſon.
Keepe them with lyke vertue and godlyneſſe. Loue is a very daintie thyng, make muche of it, it is hardly gotten, and eaſily loſt.
Ioy.
I haue good Siſters lykewiſe.
Reaſon.
An heauie burden, but pleaſant, and almoſt the firſt trauel for young men, wherin they may exerciſe themſelues when they come to their owne libertie, & wherein they may win their firſt renowme of vertue and honeſtie.
Ioy.
I haue good Siſters.
Reaſon.
See thou that they may haue a good Brother of thee, and while thou liueſt, although your Father be dead, let them not feele the want of him.
Ioy.
My Siſters are very faire.
Reaſon.
Thou art keeper of a ſlipperie thing: beware of deceipt when thou watcheſt moſt circumſpectly, let the troupes of ſuters that are about
her awake thee. It is an hard matter to preſerue beautie where one man aſſaulteth: what thinkeſt thou then where there be many? The garde of chaſtitie ought to be by ſo muche more circumſpect then of golde, as it is more precious, and not to be recouered. Truly, there is no meanes whereby a Virgins chaſtitie may better be preſerued, then by tymely marriage.
Ioy.
I haue fayre Syſters at home.
Reaſon.
Prouide that thou haue them not there long, they woulde better furnyſhe many houſes.
Of a good Lord. The .Lxxxv. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue a good Lorde.
Reaſon.
Whether thou haſt hym, or he haue thee, thynke with thy ſelfe: but this is the maner of ſpeakyng, for ſo you haue a Lorde, as a man may ſay he hath a Scab, or a Cough. There be many thynges whiche the poſſeſſours haue agaynſt theyr wylles: thoſe ryches be troubleſome, whiche a man can not ſhake of.
Ioy.
I haue a good Lorde.
Reaſon.
Then haſt thou loſt thy libertie, for no man can haue a Lorde, and libertie at one tyme. Now neyther thy Syſters, of whom thou ſpakeſt erwhile, neyther thy Daughters, neyther thy Sonnes wyues, neyther thy Wyfe, neyther thy Patrimonie, neither thy lyfe, are in ſafetie: for in reſpect of the Lord, whom thou haſt, thou haſt left of to haue all other thynges at once.
Ioy.
Chaunce hath offered vnto me, and my countrey, a good Lorde.
Reaſon.
Theſe twayne are repugnant, and quite contrary: for yf he be good, he is no Lord: and if he be a Lorde, he is not good, ſpecially if he would be called a Lord.
Ioy.
I haue a good Lord.
Reaſon.
Parentes are good, brethren and children may be good, but friendes are alwayes good, els are they not friendes: howbeit, for a Lord to be called good, is a gentle lye, or a pleaſant flatterie.
Ioy.
We haue a very good Lord.
Reaſon.
Perhaps a good gouernour of the people, and defendour of the Common wealth: a more acceptable thyng then which can not be offred vnto God by man. He is not onely not woorthy to be termed very good, yea, not ſo much as good, but rather woorſt of all, who taketh away from his Citizens and Subiectes, the beſt thyng that
they haue, to wit, their libertie, which is the cheefe and moſt ſpeciall commoditie of this lyfe, and for the fulfilling of one mans bottomleſſe gulfe of couetouſneſſe, whiche wyll neuer be glutted, can willingly behold ſo many thouſand wretches in miſerie, with drye eyes. And yf iuſtice and mercie can not preuayle, yet at leaſtwiſe ſhame and honeſtie muſt reuoke him from ſo heauie a ſpectacle, although he be affable to be ſpoken withal, faire ſpoken to perſwade, and laſtly, liberal vnto a fewe, of the ſpoyles of many. Theſe are the meanes that Tyrantes doo vſe, whom men commonly call Lordes, and are found to be Hangmen: With theſe miſtes, they bleare mens eyes: with theſe baites, they couer their hookes, and catche the credulous in their ſnares.
Ioy.
I haue a mightie Lord.
Reaſon.
There is one only in heauen (who of his owne ryght hath called him ſelfe Lorde) and commaundeth him ſelfe ſo to be called: for Auguſtus Caeſar, that was lord of the earth, prouided by proclamation, that none ſhould cal him Lord. The one is God of goddes, the other Emperour ouer men: The one mayntayned his Maieſtie, the other preſerued his modeſtie. Finally, in this reſpect he ſharply reprooued the people of Rome: for thus it is written of him, He alwayes abhorred the name of Lorde, as a reproche and ſlaunder. Which moderation alſo, it is well knowen that his ſucceſſour obſerued, although in all degrees he were farre inferiour vnto hym: who though he were greedy of gouernement, yet refrayned hym ſelfe from the title of Lordſhyp, and ſo keepyng as it were a middle courſe betweene ambition and modeſtie, he was content to be a Lorde, but not to be called ſo, knowing that it was vniuſt which he deſired, and therefore deſired ſo as he might auoyde the blemiſh of reproofe. Harde, proude, and greeuous is the name of a Lord, ſpecially where is loue of libertie, and ſhame of ſeruilitie? Whoſe foooteſteppes Alexander that was Emperour of Rome wyfely followyng, woulde haue no man write vnto hym in any more lofue ſtyle and maner then to a priuate man. As for the other Alexander, that was kyng of Macedonie, he woulde not onely be called Lorde, but alſo God: whom theſe pettie Theeues of our tyme followyng in lyke pride of minde, ſcarce hauyng poſſeſſed by ſiniſter meanes a towne or twayne, wyll not onely be called Lordes,
but count it a ſhame to be reputed men, and take it as an iniurie to be ſo t
•
armed.
Ioy.
I haue a very good Lorde in deede.
Reaſon.
There is one very good Lorde in deede, whom yf thou haſt, thy ſeruice is moſt honeſt, and more happie then a kingdome.
Ioy.
We haue a iuſt Lorde, and
〈◊〉
very good King.
Reaſon.
The Greekes make no difference betweene a King and a Tyrant, accordyng vnto which ſignification, our Poet ſpeaking of a kyng, ſayeth, It ſhalbe vnto me ſome part of contentation to haue touched the Tyrantes right hand. But among you, onely the purpoſe and maner of gouernment maketh the difference: ſo that he is truely to be tearmed a Kyng, that ruleth with iuſtice and equitie. But who ſo ſitting in the hygh ſeate of princely dignitie, is not a diligent looker to the profite of the Common wealth, but rather a procurer of his owne priuate luſt, or eyther ſeekyng after rapine, or imagining reuenge, purſueth his owne wilfulneſſe or wrathfulneſſe, and geueth hym ſelfe vp to the outragious and vnbrydled motions of his minde, the ſame is a ſlaue vnto euyl maiſters, and no kyng, although he appeare in more maieſtie then the reſidue, and beare the Regal ſcepter in his hand, and vaunt hym ſelfe in his Purple and princely apparrell, but is rather a Theefe that is riſen vnto dignitie, by vexing the Commons, or troubling the people, and is ſet in that place, to the intent that exerciſing his crueltie with a more free ſcourge, proouing ſome, and tempting other, troublyng and moleſtyng all, beyng hym ſelfe ignoraunt, and followyng his owne paſſions, notwithſtandyng, by the ordinaunce of hym that turneth euyl to good purpoſe, although with wycked and vniuſt handes, yet executeth he the iuſt iudgement of God, euen as a blooddie tormentor putteth in execution the vpryght ſentence of a righteous Iudge.
Ioy.
My countrye hath a iuſt and godly Kyng.
Reaſon.
A rare treaſure, and a moſt happie ſtate of the Common wealth, vnleſſe the preſent ioy procuring feare of that whiche is to come, diminiſhed the felicitie, by cauſing a change to be ſuſpected, and the wantyng of that whiche is loſt, whiche ſhortly after is lyke to heape vp togeather future miſeries, were remayning in mens mindes that knowe the condicions of humane thynges, and Fortunes ſlypperie wheele, which ſuffereth no proſperous thing to continue
long. Cuſtome aſſwageth the feelyng of that whiche is euyll, and vnaccuſtomed thynges caſt a man downe, ſo that ſome haue ſayde that it is beſt to be alwayes in aduerſitie, which they would not haue ſayd yf proſperitie would alwayes endure.
Ioy.
We haue a iuſt and mercyful Prince.
Reaſon.
Wyſhe to dye whyle he liueth, that thou mayeſt not lament the alteration of the ſtate: For ſeldome dooeth one good Prince ſucceede another, but ofttymes after an euyl commeth a worſe, and moſt tymes after a worſe, the worſt of all.
Of the cleareneſſe of the Ayre. The lxxxvi. Dialogue.
IOY.
THe aire is cleere and pleaſant.
Reaſon.
Who can nowe iuſtly ſay of you, that your heauenly minde is addicted to the earth? For ye hang it vp now in the ayre, and ye beſtowe your loue vpon the Element, then which there is none more vnconſtant.
Ioy.
The ayre is cleere and caulme.
Reaſon.
If thou ſtay awhile, thou ſhalt quickly ſee it cloudy and troubleſome, that thou wylt thynke thy ſelfe to be vnder another heauen.
Ioy.
The ayre is cleere and calme.
Reaſon.
How much rather would I wiſh that thy minde were cleere and calme: that cleereneſſe and conſtant tranquilitie were profitable, whiche neyther cloudes could couer, nor windes trouble.
Ioy.
The ayre is cleere.
Reaſon.
Euery cleere thyng is not by and by the beſt, for we reade that cloudie prouinces are more holſome then the cleere, and in this reſpect the Weſt part of the worlde is preferred before the Eaſt.
Ioy.
This bright ayre delighteth me.
Reaſon.
To take delyght in the creation and handy works of God, it is not forbidden, ſo that ye whole delight of the mind be conuerted vnto God, who is the fountaine of al goodnes, and the eternal Creator of al thynges be prayſed in theſe thynges which are temporal: otherwiſe, hearken what is written, If ſaith Iob, I beheld the Sun in his brightnes, and the Moone when ſhe ſhyned cleere, and my bart reioyced in ſecret, and I kiſſed my hand with my mouth, which is a very haynous offence, and a deniyng of the moſt
hygh God.
Ioy.
The ayre is very cleere, I would it might alwaies continue ſo.
Reaſon.
Thou art not able not only to abide it ſo ſtill, but alſo not any long whyle: The alteration of tyme is worthily cōmended to be very commodious of many, but ſpecially of Cicero.
Ioy.
The ayre is very cleere, I would it might not be changed.
Reaſon.
Thou knoweſt not how ſoone this cleerenes wil bring weeriſomneſſe: There is nothing ſo pleaſant, which continual frequentyng the ſame maketh not loathſome. There is no medicine more effectuall agaynſt all tediouſneſſe of this lyfe, then varietie of tyme and place: With this, mans lyfe is nooryſhed and fed, and as S. Auguſtine ſayth, He that cannot be fylled with the qualitie of thinges, at leaſtwyſe may be glutted with varietie.
Of fortunate ſayling. The .lxxxvii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Sayle proſperouſly.
Reaſon.
I perceiue the matter, Neptune layeth ſnares for thee.
Ioy.
The Sea hath ſhewed it ſelfe calme vnto me.
Reaſon.
A deceitful calmeneſſe, and as I may terme it, a bayte for ſhypwracke: For yf the ſea were alwayes rough, no man would venture vpon it.
Ioy.
The Sea is pleaſant and ſweete vnto mee.
Reaſon.
It is a ſuſpitious ſweetneſſe: theeues flatterynges are threatninges. This face of the Sea wyl ſodainly change, ſo that thou wilt litle thinke it to be the ſame, but being colde for feare with the ſtrangeneſſe of the ſight, wylt ſeeke and ſay, Where is that Sea whiche I prayſed erewhyle? from whence come theſe ſo many and horrible Mountaines of water? from whence this roaring of the hougy waues, and theſe boyſterous billowes which with threatnyng froath ryſe vp to the cloudes? None know but thoſe that haue proued, what the Sea is, and howe outragious a beaſt, and what mooued the Poet to call it a Monſter. For there is nothyng more monſtrous in the whole world, nothing more vntruſtie or inconſtant, nothing ſo often tranſfourmed, ſo dangerouſly, or ſodainely: finally, nothyng more quiet while it reſteth, or more vnmerciful when it is troubled.
Ioy.
The Sea is now calme and quiet.
Reaſon.
The earth it ſelfe ſinketh, and openeth, and doeſt thou attribute
firmeneſſe to the Sea, as if thou diſſembledſt thy ſenſes? truſt it not, to tempt fortune oftentymes, is meere madneſſe.
Ioy.
At leaſt wyſe, I haue now ſayled proſperouſly.
Reaſon.
There is no ſauage beaſt that falleth into the ſnare, but he feeleth ſome ſweetneſſe before.
Ioy.
I haue ſayled proſperouſly.
Reaſon.
Wicked perſons alſo ſayle proſperouſly, and godly men commit ſhypwracke.
Ioy.
I haue ſayled happily.
Reaſon.
Beleeue me, yf thou continue, thou ſhalt ſayle vnhappyly.
Of wiſshed arryuyng at the Hauen. The .lxxxviii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Am now come to the Hauen: nowe I ſytte vpon the Shore.
Reaſon.
Many periſh in ye Hauen, moe vpon the Shore: thou haſt exchanged the kynde, but not eſchewed the danger.
Ioy.
I am come to land.
Reaſon.
Thus thou ſayeſt, as though the dangers of the land were eyther leſſe or fewer then of the ſea, although they be more ſecret: Did not he eſteeme them both alike, who ſomtime by the one, and ſomtime by the other, had ben greatly diſtreſſed vpon them both? Neyther is it without cauſe, that the ſame poore ſearcher of waters in Statius, when he died, commended the Winters and South wynde, and the better dangers of the experimented Seas.
Ioy.
I am vppon the lande.
Reaſon.
Thou art the more ſubiect vnto chaunces, in reſpect there be moe men Inhabite the earth, then the Sea. For one man is the greateſt part of the miſeries that chaunce vnto another: ſo that death commeth from whence ſuccour ought to come, to let paſſe the ſundry kyndes of beaſtes, wherof the lyfe of man is ful.
Ioy.
At the leaſt wyſe the earth wyl ſtand ſteddy vnder foote.
Reaſon.
But many tymes it hath not ſtoode, and for confirmation hereof, I let paſſe auncient examples, as Achaia, and the reſidue of Greece, with Syria and other countreis, where in tymes paſt both whole Cities haue ben vtterly ſwalowed vp, and hilles ſunke downe, & Ilandes drowned: to omit alſo vnſpoken of the auncient ruines of your owne hilles Etna & Veſenus, amongſt you of late dayes. Rome it ſelf the head of cities was ſhaken with an earthquake, which in the time of the ciuil warres was counted a ſtrange matter. In this age the Alpes trēbled marueilouſly, &
the hygh rockes beyng torne away, gaue licence to the Sunne beames to view ſuch places as were neuer diſcouered before, ſince the creation of the worlde: a great part alſo of Spaine and Germanie was ouerthrowne. Thou haſt ſeene Cities, ſtrong Caſtls, and Townes, at one tyme ſtandyng moſt firmely, which within few dayes after, a miſerable and feareful ſight, lay al flat vpon the earth. Yea, the riuer Rhine it ſelfe ran foorth in his chanel as it were weepyng for the ruines wherwith his banks were on eche ſide defaced, ſpecially that ſide which was ſomtyme moſt beautified with buildinges, whoſe rubbiſhe he waſheth now with his ratling whirlepooles. And therfore ceaſſe thou to be careleſſe where is no ſecuritie.
Ioy.
I haue the earth vnder my feete.
Reaſon.
Not ſo certayne a place of dwellyng, as of buryal.
Ioy.
I am glad that I am come to the ground.
Reaſon.
Like, I ſee, reioyceth in it lyke, and thou art earth alſo.
Ioy.
I am come to earth.
Reaſon.
Not yet truely, but ſhalt ſhortly.
Of comming foorth of priſon. The .lxxxix. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Am glad I haue eſcaped out of pryſon.
Reaſon.
Truely I confeſſe that this libertie after it hath been reſtrayned is more acceptable, and more alſo when it is reſfored then preſerued: but al thynges that delyght, doo not profite, and many tymes ſweete thynges are hurtful, and bytter thynges, holſome. Many tymes not pryſon only, but death alſo hath been profitable, and as often lyfe and libertie hurtful.
Ioy.
I am glad I haue eſcaped foorth of pryſon.
Reaſon.
Erewhyle thou reioycedſt that thou hadſt gayned the Hauen, and nowe thou art glad that thou haſt eſcaped it. Pryſon vnto ſome hath ben an Hauen, to ſome, a refuge and Caſtle of defence, and hath preſerued ſome that would haue peryſhed, yf they had been at libertie. Thinges that are ſhut vp and tied in chaines, are eaſily kept. Blind mortal men knowe not what is good for them, and therfore they deſire their owne harmes, and when they haue obteined them, they reioyce, wherof they ſhal ſoone be ſory. And that thou maieſt not ſeeke far for an example: thou ſaweſt of late that man, whoſe enterpriſe was
more couragious then conſtant, who in time of trouble durſt profeſſe him ſelfe Patrone of the common wealth of Rome, Firſt he toke vpon hym the name of Tribune, and afterward when fortune changed, was baniſhed the Citie: then after his fall into pryſon that firſt was Prince, and then Biſhop, beyng in both well and honeſtly reputed, at length by euyl chaunce beyng ſet at libertie, and not only ſtayne, but alſo hewed in peeces by his enimies weapons, as he was dying, I ſuppoſe, wyſhed he had been in pryſon.
Ioy.
I reioyce that I am come foorth of pryſon.
Reaſon.
Hencefoorth thou ſhalt be conuerſant in the courtes that are troubleſome with contentions, in the ſtreetes of the cities, and tumultes of buſineſſe, and ſuppoſing trouble to be libertie, ſhalt falſly gratulate to thy ſelfe the one for the other, while a thouſand ſnares ſhal entrap thee, whom before one key dyd ſhut vp: and when al men reioyce out of a ſtorme to come into the Hauen, thou only art a woonderful Maryner, who willyngly ſetteſt out of the Hauen into a tempeſt.
Ioy.
I am glad that I am returned out of pryſyn.
Reaſon.
The goodneſſe and commoditie hereof, as of ſuch other like thinges, is neither to muche to reioyce, nor to much to be ſorie, but in ech ſtate to kepe an equanimitie, as the gouernment of your lyfe, ſpecially in ſo great darkneſſe of future accidentes: neyther is it ſo miſerable a thyng, as ſome make it, to goe into pryſon, neyther ſo happy to come foorth. How often hath the pryſon of the enimie, ben more ſafe then his libertie? How often hath libertie, which you alſo much couet, turned to deſtruction and death:
Ioy.
I am come foorth of pryſon.
Reaſon.
Many chaunces may delyuer a man out of a large pryſon, but out of his narow priſon, death only.
Ioy.
I am come forth of a painfull pryſon.
Reaſon.
Into that pryſon thou mayeſt returne againe, but when thou art once departed out of the other, thou canſt not come againe in this time.
Of a quiet State. The .xc. Dialogue.
IOY.
HAuing diſpoſed mine affaires in good order, I now lyue quietly.
Reaſon.
Forſooth, euen as thy ſhip out of the ſurgies of the ſea, ſo thy mind, being diſcharged of ye cares
of this lyfe, is arriued in the harbour of troubles and terrours: but in deede it is not ſo, for now haſt thou greateſt cauſe to feare. Knoweſt thou not that the ſtate of humane things doth not continue, but he that ſitteth higheſt vpon the wheele, is the neereſt to fallyng?
Ioy.
Al thynges goe with me as I woulde wyſhe.
Reaſon.
Thou ſayeſt wel in ſaying they goe al, for nothyng tarrieth. Before then that thou ſeeme happy, perhaps hope poſſeſſeth ſome place within thee, but afterward feare, and laſt of all ſorowe, but ioy neuer, I ſpeake of the true ioy, vntyl ſuch tyme as we attayne to the true & permanent good thyngs.
Ioy.
Haueing diſpoſed myne affayres, nowe I take my reſt.
Reaſon.
Trauayle and ſorow are the ſumme of humane thynges, & canſt thou take thy reſt in them? An hard head, that can endure to lye betwene an iron payre of ſheetes, and reſt thy ſelfe vpon a pillow of thornes.
Ioy.
All thyngs are wel prouided for.
Reaſon.
I ſuppoſe that thy ſhip of merchandize is arriued, thou haſt eſcaped daunger, thou haſt builded an houſe, thou haſt tilled thy lande, thou haſt pruned thy vine, thou haſt watered thy medowes, thou haſt made thy floores, thou haſt planted trees, thou haſt caſt ryuers, thou haſt plaſhed hedges, thou haſt buylded a doue houſe, thou haſt put thy flockes and heardes into paſture, thy bees into their hiues, thy ſeede into the furrowes, thy new merchandize thou haſt ſent to ſea, thou haſt layde thy money ſafely to banke, thy coffers are full, thy hall is rych, thy chamber neate, thy barnes wel ſtored, thy ſtore houſe full to the brim, thou haſt prouided a dowrie for thy daughter, a wyfe for thy ſonne, thou haſt woon the peoples fauour with thy ambitious flatterie, thou haſt gotten theyr voyces, thou haſt prepared vnto thy ſelfe a redy way vnto ryches and honour, there nowe remayneth nothyng, but that thou reioyce in thyne owne felicitie. This, yf I be not deceyued, is thy concluſion: but myne is farre other wyſe, to wyt, that thou dye. It ſeldome happeneth vnto men, to enioy long that which they haue gotten togeather with great diligence: the toyle is long, the vſe is ſhort.
Ioy.
Nowe that my affayres goe forwarde proſperouſly, I am in an aſſured ſtate.
Reaſon.
Howe thou canſt ſtande, whyle thyne affayres goe forwarde ſee thou, for I cannot perceyue.
Ioy.
I reioyce,
nowe that my buſineſſe proceedeth accordyng to my deſire.
Reaſon.
Now therefore it is tyme to dye: thynkeſt thou that there can any man lyue long meery heare? Dye therefore while thou art meery, before thou begyn to be ſorowful. I wyl nowe repeate agayne that whiche I haue ſayde: For the repeatyng of profitable thinges is not tedious, but pleaſant. Dooeſt thou remember in Tullie, what Lacon ſayde to the auncient Diagoras Rhodius, who at that tyme muche reioyced, though vpon very lyght occaſion, whiche thou heardeſt before when we entreated of Paleſtrical exerciſes? Die nowe Diagoras, quoth he, for thou canſt not clymbe into heauen. And truely it was grauely ſpoken: For in this ſo great an alteration of thinges, what can the mynde looke for more, then to leaue to be mery, and to begyn to be ſorowful? And therefore Diagoras very ſeaſonably folowed his friendes counſel: for in the ſight and a middeſt the ſhoutyng and gratulation of the people, in the middeſt of the embraſinges and kyſſes of his ſonnes, he gaue vp the ghoſt. This Hiſtorie is written in the booke of the Attike nightes: and in ſumme, moe haue peryſhed through ioy, then ſorowe. Of all therefore that are wyſe, but ſpecially that are in great ioy, death is to be wyſhed, of whiche we ought alwayes to thynke, but moſt of all in tyme of proſperitie, and this cogitation wyll brydle al other.
Ioy.
I haue taken payne, and nowe I reſt.
Reaſon.
Ye hope al for that, but therein ye be all deceyued: The courſe of your lyfe fareth otherwyſe, and the ende thereof anſwereth not your expectation. This thy reſt is eyther ſhort or falſe, or, to ſpeake more truely, both: and howe then carrye dreame any reſt heare? So dooth he that is in pryſon dreame of libertie, the ſicke man of health, and he that is hungrie, of dayntie cheere: but behold, the laſt day is at hand, whiche wyll ſhortly dryue away theſe dreames. But be ye not deceyued by dreames and falſe opinions, wherof the lyfe of man is full, promyſe not vnto your ſelues reſt heare: Beleeue me, death is all the reſt that men haue after theyr trauailes.
Ioy.
I haue al thynges moſt plentifully, that I thynke to be neceſſarie for
•
ine.
Reaſon.
All thinges more then needeful, are waſt & ſuperfluous, but this is the maner of mans minde,
that profeſſyng and aſcendyng vpward to heauen, burdeneth it ſelfe with ſo great care and ſtudie, as it is ſcarce neuer able to diſburden it ſelf againe: ſo that being wayed downe with a forraigne burden, whyle it endeuoureth to ryſe vpward, it falleth downe, & the earth is vnto it in ſteede of heauen.
Ioy.
I haue abundaunce of al thinges, and they be nowe in the Hauen.
Reaſon.
Then are they in the end of their courſe: For this preſent lyfe is lyke to the troubleſome Sea. The end of the one is at the ſhore, and of the other in death, ſo that they may be both well termed Hauens. And truely the moſt part of men, while they be careful in heaping togeather neceſſaries to lyue by, in the chiefeſt of their preparation they are cut of by death, and there is nothyng nowe more common, then for death to preuent the carefulneſſe of this lyfe: it happeneth but vnto fewe to obteyne their deſire, and from theſe, the vſe of theyr dayly gaine is ſo ſoone taken away, that the ſhortneſſe of theyr ioy is an encreaſe of their ſorowe, wherof it is knowne that many haue complained at theyr death.
Ioy.
Now that I haue ended my trauayles, I lyue in ſecuritie.
Reaſon.
So doth the foule flie ſafe betweene the line and the grin, the fiſhe playeth among the hookes, and the wylde beaſtes among the toyles. Oftentimes whereas is moſt danger and leaſt feare, it is fortunes cunning to take away diſtruſt, that ſhe may ſtrike the more freely.
Ioy.
I haue toyled al my lyfe tyme, to the end I might take my reſt at laſt.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt placed thy reſt & ſecuritie vpon a daungerous downefal, & haſt liued in ſorow, to die in mirth, wherein thou haſt folowed no abſurd gouernment concernyng thy lyfe and death, ſo that we agree about the qualitie of the ſecuritie, and reſt, & ſorow, and ioy.
Ioy.
I haue prouided al things to furnyſh my ſelfe whyle I lyue.
Reaſon.
Nay rather, to make thy death more greiuous: Thou haſt wel prouided for the Phiſitions, they will ſhortly come thicke vnto thee, pratling about thy bed: There wil come alſo ſome to make thy Teſtament, & ſome to loke for Legacies: ſome that wil diſſemble their ioy, & counterfeite teares, & ſecretly curſe that thy life continueth ſo long, & thy death approcheth no faſter: ſome wil marke the criſis or determination day of the ſickneſſe, ſome the ſignes and tokens, & ſome wyl watch the golden carkaſſe. All theſe goodes
whiche in al thy lyfe tyme thou haſt ſcraped togeather, wyl be the meanes onely, not for thee to lyue the better, but to dye the more accompanied. Thou haſt not altogeather loſt thy labour, for thou ſhalt not lacke companie when thou art ſicke, neyther money for thy luſt and ſuperfluities, neyther pompe for thy buriall.
Ioy.
Now that I haue gotten al things, I may take my reſt.
Reaſon.
I ſayd erwhyle, thou ſoughteſt reſt and comfort of lyfe, but thou haſt founde payne and tediouſneſſe of death.
Ioy.
I haue diſpoſed all thynges, and attained proſperitie.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt heaped togeather a neſt of moſt deceitfull and tranſitorie hope, which ſo ſoone as it groweth to any ripeneſſe, wyl flee away, leauing thy hart voyde and ſorowfull, and many tymes it periſheth before it be fledge.
Ioy.
After my long traueyle, commeth quietneſſe.
Reaſon.
Perhaps it wyll be as ſhort as may be poſſible. For often the trauel of many yeeres periſheth in a moment, & when as for the moſt part al procedinges are by degrees, the endes of thynges are not ſeldome ſudden.
Ioy.
By long cares, at length I am come to the beginning of ſecuritie.
Reaſon.
Humane curioſitie is very careful of the beginninges, but is ſo blynde that it cannot foreſee the ende. A thycke miſte of the tyme to come, hath bleared the ſight of mortal mens eyes. Let our deliberation be the accompliſhment of our fortune: But to ſpeake more truely, it is the wyl of God, in whoſe hands are al mens chaunces, not ſuch as in your fond opinion and vngodly hope you imagine to your ſelues, but which he foreſeeth in his prouidence. For this is his ſaying, Foole, this nyght wyl they take thy ſoule from thee: Whoſe then ſhal theſe goodes be whiche thou haſt gathered? An horrible threatning, which if it be not able to quayle your hope, and breake of your ſleepe, doubtleſſe ye are fallen deafe.
Of Power. The .xci. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue great Power.
Reaſon.
Then haſt thou alſo muche enuie.
Ioy.
I am of great power.
Reaſon.
And alſo in muche peryll.
Ioy.
I am of very great power.
Reaſon.
Thou art ſubiect alſo to infinite traueyles, and inextricable
cares.
Ioy.
I may do much.
Reaſon.
So much as thou mayeſt doo ouer other, ſo muche may other doo ouer thee.
Ioy.
I haue very much power.
Reaſon.
The greater thy power is, the more empire fortune hath ouer it: ſhe beſtirreth her ſelfe but coldly in ſmall thynges, ſhe chooſeth rather the more plentifull matter to exerciſe her ſelfe in. In a great pile of wood the flame rageth with fiercer noyſe: great proſperitie prepareth the way for great aduerſitie. A man ſhall ſcarce finde one that is in miſerable ſtate in deede, that hath not before been in great proſperitie. The calamitie of an vnknowne man, can not be knowne.
Ioy.
Looke what I would do, the ſame I can do.
Reaſon.
Take heede then that thou haue a wyll to doo no euyl: and knowe this, that the more power thou haſt, ſo much the more buſineſſe, and leſſe libertie thou haſt.
Ioy.
I am of great power.
Reaſon.
Howe knoweſt thou whether it wyll continue? I am aſhamed to ſet downe what men of power haue come to weakeneſſe, & what kinges haue been brought vnto infamous ſlauerie. Ful of bryers & ſlipperie are the ſteppes of mans riſing, the toppe is waueryng, the fall is horrible: the ryſing to high degree is difficult, the continuing is carefull, the fall is ſoddayne and greeuous, whiche to be true, not only euery kyng and people, but alſo the greateſt Empires doo teſtifite.
Ioy.
I am myghtie in armes and ryches.
Reaſon.
True and firme power is founded vpon vertue: yf thou take away the foundation, the greater the buyldyng is, in the more daunger it is. What auayleth it to fyll houſes with Ryches, fieldes with Mattockes, ſeas with Nauies, yf in the meane whyle houſhold enimies beſiege & ouercome the minde within? Wylt thou haue me graunt that thou art of power? Ouercome then thoſe enimies, and dryue them out of thy boundes, ſubdue anger, couetouſneſſe, luſt, yea, and thyne owne ſelfe, who art enimie to thine owne fame and ſoule. For what power is this, to ſubdue other by a mans owne paſſions?
Ioy.
My power is ſurely grounded.
Reaſon.
How can that he when as your lyfe it ſelfe is dayly ſubiect to alteration? O thou weake creature, why doeſt thou ſwell? thou diſputeſt of power, and in the meane whyle art in danger of thy lyfe, whiche ſooner then a man can ſpeake it, eyther ſome ſecrete force of nature, or the
bytyng of ſome lytle beaſt, or ſome moſt vyle and baſe perſon, hath often tymes taken away from the moſt mightie perſonages.
Ioy.
My power is very firmely eſtabliſhed.
Reaſon.
Where, I pray thee? vpon the ſande and waues, or in the winde, or, as they ſay, vppon Fortunes wheele? Howbeit, my friende, lay downe this thy foolyſhe confidence. Here is no power ſtable, and to vtter (though improperly) that which I thynke, here is no power, that is of power.
Of Glorie. The .xcii. Dialogue.
IOY.
BVT I haue founde great Glory.
Reaſon.
How great thynges may be expreſſed in a lytle, I doo not vnderſtande. If thou meaſure the ſhortneſſe of tymes, and the narrowneſſe of places, thou muſt needes confeſſe that here can be no great glory. I wyll not here rehearſe vnto thee, howe that the whole earth is but a pricke, the greateſt part whereof nature hath made inhabitable, and to fortune inacceſſible, and that the tyme preſent is leſſe then a pricke, and euermore vnſtable, and paſſeth away ſo ſwiftly, that a man can ſcarce followe it with his minde: as for the other two partes of time, they are alwaies abſent, ſo that the one weerieth vs with ſlipperineſſe of remembraunce, the other with careful expectation: ſo that al times, either by floods of water, or ouermuch heate, or with ſome plague or intemperance of the heauen or earth, or briefely by them ſelues, and their owne fall, are ſo torne and confounded, that no age almoſt hath that which another had: & no leſſe in time then in place a man may ſee in ſhort ſpace, ye thing that was cōmonly knowen, not to be knowen at al. Theſe, & ſuch other like matters, I ſay, I let many paſſe: they be cōmon things, wherby it is eaſily diſcerned how great this mortal & earthly glory is.
Ioy.
I haue gayned that glory which my calling requireth.
Reaſon.
If it be vnworthy, truely it is but ſhort: if it be woorthy, reioyce, not for that thou haſt it, but for that thou haſt deſerued it.
Ioy.
I haue gayned glory.
Reaſon.
True glory is not gained but by good meanes: ſee therefore how thou haſt gotten a name, and ſo ſhalt thou vnderſtande whether
it be true glory or not: yf chaunce hath brought thee fame, the fame wil alſo take it away.
Ioy.
I am in great glory.
Reaſon.
Beware leſt that glory whiche thou ſuppoſeſt to be true, be the Image of falſe glory: In worldly matters there is great illuſion.
Ioy.
I am in muche glory.
Reaſon.
Lyke as no poore man ſeeketh to haue the report that he hath great ſtore of money, but onely to deceyue: ſo truely, for none other cauſe doo the wicked couet the opinion of great vertue: notwithſtanding both of them are priuie to them ſelues whatſoeuer other men report of them, the one, how muche money he hath in his coffer, the other, how much vertue he hath in his mynde.
Ioy.
My glorie is notable.
Reaſon.
If deſeruedly, vſe it modeſtly, that thou adde not there vnto the blemyſh of pryde: yf not, abuſe the people no longer.
Ioy.
My glory is glitteryng.
Reaſon.
Eyther ſtudie to deſerue it, or put of that heauie garment whiche is none of thyne owne. It were better to be without glory, then lyingly to be glorious. For true glory is preſerued by labour: What doeſt thou thinke then of falſe? It is harde to feigne and diſſemble in all matters, but moſt harde in that whiche many doo watche on euery ſide. Men endued with true glory, are rare to be founde, whom becauſe of theyr great difference and vnlykeneſſe, the obſcure and malitious common people doo hate. It is an harde matter to lye hyd among ſo many ſnares of the enimies, thou canſt not bleare all mens eyes that are ſo diligently bent vpon thee.
Ioy.
I appeare glorious.
Reaſon.
Perhappes it were better for thee to lye hydde, and more ſafe. This ſpake he grauely, that hath ſayde many thynges lyghtly, He hath lyued well, that hath lyen hyd well.
Ioy.
I am famous and far knowen, and widely renowmed.
Reaſon.
Malice pearceth and ſearcheth the moſt ſecret thinges, and thinkeſt thou that ſhe wyl let paſſe the thynges that are in ſight? Yea, they are but fewe, for whom it is expedient to appeare and be ſeene, and fewe whom fame woulde not hurt to be fully knowen. The ſaying of Claudianus is well knowen, Preſence diminiſheth the fame: but howe muche more dooeth knowledge of the matter diminyſhe it? Men are ſeldome founde in deede to be ſuche as they ſeeme.
Ioy.
I appeare glorious.
Reaſon.
Thou lyeſt hyd in an hollowe cloude, foorth of whiche when thou ſhalt come a lytle abroade, the falſer thy glory was, the truer ſhal be thy ſhame.
Ioy.
But my glory is true.
Reaſon.
None knoweth that better, then thy ſelfe: & ſo yf in thyne owne affayres thou put on the vncorrupt mynde of an outwarde Iudge, true glory, as ſome wyſe men holde opinion, is as it were a certayne ſhadowe of vertue: for it keepeth company with her, and followeth her, and ſometymes goeth before her: whiche we ſee to be true in young men of noble and vertuous diſpoſition, whom the opinion whiche men conceyue of them, maketh them noble before their vertue be perfect, whiche, as it were with certayne prickes and ſpurres, prouoketh & inflameth noble and modeſt mindes, to be in all reſpectes aunſwerable to the hope of their countreymen and citizens, and throweth downe headlong the foolyſhe and proude. Hereof commeth the ridiculus metamorphoſis of noble youthes into obſcure olde men: For prayſe that is profitable to a wyſe man, hurteth a foole. Hereby thou perceyueſt that a ſhadowe can not be of it ſelfe, but it muſt be the ſhadowe of another thing. Wouldeſt thou then that thy glory were true? ſee then that true and ſounde he thy vertue.
Of Benefites beſtowed vpon many. The .xciii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Reioyce that I haue beſtowed Benefites vppon manie.
Reaſon.
When thou haſt found many vnthankfull, thou wylt be ſorie.
Ioy.
I haue powred foorth benefites vpon many.
Reaſon.
Thou ſayeſt true, for if a man conſider the mindes of the receyuers, the moſt part of them is caſte away.
Ioy.
Many are beholden to my benefites.
Reaſon.
Some wyll releaſe them ſelues by forgetfulneſſe: others wyll requite thy good turnes with iniuries, and yf iniuries ceaſſe, yet complaintes wyl not ceaſſe: how many doo complayne of ſuche as haue done them good? This is iniurious, I confeſſe, but ſo common, that complayntes are not ſo often made of the enimies. Thou haſt hearde in Lucane. how Photinus complayneth of Pompeius,
and in Seneca, Sabinus of Auguſtus. But why doo I call thee vnto bookes, or antiquitie? Beholde the myddeſt of Cities: euery village is full of ſuche complayntes. There is no ingratitude, as I ſuppoſe, but it groweth vppon one of theſe three cauſes: Enuie, whiche thynkyng, by the benefites beſtowed vppon others, them ſelues to be injured, forget the good turnes that them ſelues haue receyued: Pryde, whiche eyther iudge them ſelues woorthy of greater, or diſdayne that any other ſhoulde be preferred before them: Couetouſneſſe, whiche is not aſwaged, but inflamed by rewardes, and in gapyng after that whiche is to gette, remembreth not what is gotten alredie. I myght more briefely tearme the whole cauſe of this miſcheife, foolyſhneſſe: for it is not onely the cauſe of this, but alſo of all other miſchiefes, the ignoraunce of the true good, and the peruerſeneſſe of opinions. Herehence proceede the infections of the minde, chiefely, pryde and couetouſneſſe, vnto whom no duetie is not ſtubburne, no bountifulneſſe not too litle.
Ioy.
I haue been beneficial vnto many.
Reaſon.
A certayne magnanimitie which Ariſtotle entendeth, is ſayde to remember what it hath beſtowed, but to forget the benefites receyued. Whiche opinion, although it want not ſome colour, yet in my iudgement he that hath the true magnanimitie, is a contemner of meane and baſe thynges, and therefore whatſoeuer he doeth, although in the iudgement of many they be great, yet are they but ſmall to a mynde that imagineth greater and rarer matters: and contrariwyſe, yf he haue receyued any thyng whereby he is made beholden to another man, although it be but lytle, yet is it greeuous vnto one that loueth lybertie, and aſpireth vnto excellencie, whereof he is deſirous with ſpeede to be diſcharged and vnburdened. And therefore concernyng this matter, I lyke of the ſaying of Anneus Seneca, Let hym that hath doone a good turne,
ſayth he, holde his peace, and let hym tell it that hath receyued it. And it is finely ſayde, for that there are two poyſons or woundes of beneficencie: The one, the exprobation of the geuer, the other, the forgetfulneſſe of the receyuer: both are Mothers to ingratitude, and Stepdames to a good turne.
The fyrſt, bryngeth foorth ingratitude in another, the latter, in it ſelfe. The fyrſt alſo extinguiſheth a benefite in it ſelfe, the latter, in another. Theſe miſchiefes howe many ſoeuer they be, may be cured by Senecas counſayle.
Ioy.
I haue doone good vnto many.
Reaſon.
But thou haſt not doone vnto moſte, whiche are greeued that they are contemned and neglected. There is in vs, I knowe not howe, a more perfect remembraunce of iniuries and offences doone vnto vs, then of the good turnes whiche we haue receyued. And it chaunceth many tymes, that for benefites receyued, a man ſhall finde his friendes forgetfull or luke warme, but his enimies mindefull and earneſt.
Ioy.
I haue doone many great good turnes for many men.
Reaſon.
There are many of that diſpoſition, that it is dangerous to doo them good: ſome haue purchaſed a friende with a ſmall benefite, and an enimie with a great, for that a ſmall debt is eaſily repayed, and they are aſhamed to owe a great debt, and are loath to repay it, ſo that there is no thyrde leaft, but that he muſt leaue longer to owe that oweth agaynſt his wyll. Thus whylſt ſhame greeueth hym that oweth a good turne, and ſorowe hym that hath receyued it, the ſhyppe of hym that is beneficial, is caried betweene the two daungerous rockes of Scilla and Caribdis, and ſo it is come to paſſe, that many that myght haue lyued hardly and ſparyngly, haue been brought into daunger through liberalitie. For a man can not freely be good among euyll men, an harde ſayeing, but I muſt needes vtter it: there is no lyuyng thyng more vnthankefull then man.
Ioy.
I haue ſhewed my ſelfe beneficial farre and wyde.
Reaſon.
There be ſome that be beneficiall, but not friendly, whom the greatneſſe of their callyng, and the neceſſitie of men conſtrayneth to geue many thynges, vnto ſuche as they doo not onely not loue, but not ſo muche as knowe, of whom yf they hope to be beloued for theyr benefites ſake, they be very muche deceyued. There is none lyghtly, but loueth where he is beloued. Loue is a mutuall knot and reciprocation of mindes. Gyftes are oftentymes geuen vppon neceſſitie, but loue is beſtowed by iudgement. Therefore, as I wyll neuer denie, but that benefites well beſtowed,
and with a mery countenaunce and well meanyng minde, employed vppon woorthy perſons, are glorious: ſo is there no man that doubteth, but that many, yea, the moſt part of them, through the fault of the geuers or receyuers, are loſt and caſt away: and that way vnto loue is more eaſie, ſhort, and ſtreight, whiche I ſhewed thee before, to wit, to attayne vnto loue by leuyng, in whiche, while thou goeſt forwarde, yf thou win the true name of a beneficiall perſon, it ſhall make thee famous and beloued aboue expectation.
Ioy.
I haue beſtowed many and great benefites.
Reaſon.
Not what, but how, and with what minde thynges be doone, both God and man doo reſpect: great thinges are many tymes odious, and meane thynges acceptable, but aboue all, the very naked hart only is accepted in the ſacrifice and gyft of the poore.
Of loue of the people. The .xciiii. Dialogue.
IOY.
THE people loue me.
Reaſon.
Stay awhyle, and anone they wyll hate thee.
Ioy.
The people loue me.
Reaſon.
Make no great haſt, the ende is not yet come: for as one day, ſo is the whole lyfe deſcribed by the ende.
Ioy.
I am beloued of the people.
Reaſon.
Who was of them better beloued then the Scipioes, then Camillus, then Rutilius and Metellus? What ſhall I ſpeake of Themiſtocles or Milciades, or of his ſonne Cymon, or Ariſtides? What of Theſeus, of Solon, of Hannibal, or of Lycurgus? Theſe Citizens, I ſay, although they were neuer ſo dearely, and neuer ſo ſhort tyme beloued of their people, notwithſtandyng their endes are all knowen, and this loue turned eyther into contempt, or into hatred, and requitall vnwoorthy of their deſartes, trauell at home and abroade, accuſation, death, exile impriſonment.
Ioy.
Moſt part of the people loue me.
Reaſon.
The woorſer ſort then, for there are but fewe good, and it is knowen that the loue of euyll men, is purchaſed by euyll meanes: For yf a certayne ſimilitude and lykeneſſe procure friendſhyp, as the wyſe holde opinion, thynke of thy ſelfe what thou art, in that moſt of the people doo
loue thee.
Ioy.
The people loue me.
Reaſon.
A fayre Wynters weather, Sommers ayre, calmeneſſe of the Sea, the Moones ſtate, and loue of the people, yf all theſe were compared togeather, for inconſtancie, the laſt ſhal beare the bell.
Ioy.
The people honour me.
Reaſon.
With theyr lyps I thynke, but theyr hart is far from thee: for it is not more true vnto thee then to God. The people doth ſeldome any thyng wyllyngly, but raiſe tumultes and vprores.
Ioy.
The people feare me.
Reaſon.
They wyl not doo ſo long: For it ſoone decayeth that is not grounded vpon aſſured iudgement.
Ioy.
The peoples good wyll is feruent towardes mee.
Reaſon.
Of an hot beginning many times commeth a warme middle, and a cold end: which may be ſeene in nothing ſooner then in the good wil of the people.
Ioy.
The people prayſe me.
Reaſon.
The prayſe of fooles, is counted infamie among the learned.
Ioy.
The people haue me in admiration.
Reaſon.
After ſome ſmal alteration they wyll deſpiſe thee, for alwayes they holde one of the extremities, but neuer the meane, as fearyng hym whom they ſo account of for an enimie.
Ioy.
The people doo reuerence
Reaſon.
I woulde marueyle yf thou couldeſt proſper vnder ſo attendyng attenders.
Ioy.
The people haue a good opinion of me.
Reaſon.
They vſe to iudge on both ſydes without diſcretion, and therfore the verdict of the common people, among true iudges, is an argument of the contrary.
Ioy.
The people eſteeme wel of me.
Reaſon.
The eſtimation and iudgement of mad men is ſuſpected of ſounde wyttes: I had rather the people knew thee not, then ſo lyked of thee.
Ioy.
The people ſpeake much of me.
Reaſon.
And thou therfore art ouer credulus, and carryed away with the populare ayre: which although thou knoweſt to haue happened ſometyme vnto great men, yet is the vanitie neuer awhyt the leſſe, to reioyce in a ſlender and vncertayne ſtate.
Ioy.
The people haue me in admiration.
Reaſon.
And I alſo woonder at thee, that thou aſcribeſt this any deale to thy glory.
Ioy.
The people loue me.
Reaſon.
This is no prayſe to thee, but thy fortune: it is the peoples manner oftentymes to loue the vnworthy, but from them many tymes they receyue a moſt woorthy
reward of theyr vnworthy loue.
Of inuadyng a Tirranny. The xcv. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue inuaded a Tyrranny ouer my countrey men.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt wel requited thy foolyſh louers: They aduaunced thee more then reaſon required, and thou haſt throwne them downe vnder the yoke of vniuſt ſeruitude.
Ioy.
I haue taken vpon me a Tyrrannie.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt depriued others of theyr libertie, thy ſelfe of ſecuritie, and both, of your reſt.
Ioy.
I haue obteyned a Tyrranny.
Reaſon.
A ſtate of vndoubted trauayle, of an vncertaine euent, but for the moſt part infortunate: I wyl not refer thee vnto auncient and forreine Hiſtories. What was the end of Alexander Phaeraeus? what of Dionyſius of Syracuſae? what of Phalaris of Agrigentum? what of Anno the Carthagien? what of Elearchus of Heraclea? what of Ariſtotinus Ephirenſis? what of Nabis the Lacedemonian? and laſtly, of Hipparchus the Athenian, whoſe death purchaſed immortal fame to his murtherers? Neyther wyl I ſend thee to new and domeſtical examples, Caſſius, and Melius, & Manlius. Citizens of Rome, Catuline alſo, and the Gracchi, & Apuleius, not Tyrantes, but affectyng a tirranny, who were eſpied in theyr wycked attempts, hyndred of theyr purpoſe, and ſuppreſſed: And laſtly, not vnto thoſe, who beyng greater, not better, cloked theyr cruel and vniuſt tyrrannie, with the colour of a iuſt Empire, namely Caius and Nero, Domitianus and Commodus, Baſſianus, and the reſidue of that crue, who were Princes only in name, and had both Tirantes mindes, and Tirantes endes: but I wyl rather refer thee vnto other, whom in the remembrance of your fathers and grandfathers, yea alſo of this preſent age, this your region hath ſeene. Theſe, that I may not weery thee with them that are farre of, I would haue thee to conſyder and behold, and thou ſhalt ſee that the common and vſual ende of Tyrantes, is eyther by ſwoorde or poyſon, and thou wylt confeſſe that the ſaying of the Saterical Poet is true, Fewe Kinges and Tirants
dye without murder and woundes, or of a drye death, without bloodſhed.
Ioy.
I poſſeſſe a tyrranny ouer my Citizens.
Reaſon.
A booty and ſlaughter houſe to fyl thy ſelfe with gold, and with blood to gither with the gold lyke an hungry Crow, and like the greedy Horſleach, which wyll not let go the ſkyn tyll he be full of blood. But with what countenance, or what conſcience, doeſt thou either ſhead that blood, which to preſerue (yf thou were a man) thou ſhouldeſt wyllingly ſhed thine owne blood, or extorteſt gold from thy Citizens, to geue it vnto thy cruel tormentors, ſpoiling them whom thou ſhouldeſt feede with thy ryches, and enryching thoſe, from whom (as thou readeſt) thou ſhouldeſt by al meanes extort? ſo ſmally are the examples and preceptes of your Elders regarded. But this is one moſt vyle diſcommoditie in the lyfe of Tyrantes, that they ſtand alwayes in feare of them whom they ſhoulde truſt, & truſt them that haue no truſt nor trueth at al: and all this miſchiefe happeneth on the one ſyde, for that iniuries are offered to them that haue not deſerued, on the other, for that benefites are beſtowed vppon the vnwoorthy, ſo that the whole courſe of thyngs, beyng confounded through diſorder, enimies are made friendes, and Citizens are made enimies.
Ioy.
I am the Tyrant of my countrey.
Reaſon.
Couldeſt thou fynde in thy hart to be ſo, yf thou remembredſt that it were thyne owne countrey. If the repreſentation of your common mother came into thy mynde, thou wouldeſt neuer in ſuche ſort teare thy brethren, with whom thou haſt been brought vp in thy chyldehood, and alſo in ryper yeeres, haſt enioyed the ſame ayre, the ſame waters, the ſame religion, the ſame holydayes, the ſame playes and delightes: with what mynde canſt thou inſult and reign
••
ouer them, and reioyce when they weepe? Laſtly, with what impudencie
••
ooeſt thou lyue in that Citie, wherein thou knoweſt thy lyfe to he hated of all men, thy death wyſhed of all ſortes, where thou art aſſured there is none that woulde not haue thee deſtroyed, as a moſt cruell Wolfe in a gentle flocke?
Ioy.
I haue vndertaken a Tyrrannie.
Reaſon.
If thou compare the preſent tyme with the tyme paſt, thou ſhalt perceyue howe miſerable a clogge thou haſt layd vpon thy ſhoulders: thou lyuedſt ſomtime a ſafe & quiet life;
but now henceforward vnleſſe thou ioyne madneſſe to miſchiefe, thou ſhalt paſſe no day nor nyght without feare and trouble of minde, eate no meate without ſuſpition, take no ſleepe without dread, whyle thou beholdeſt on euerie ſide the ſwoord hanging ouer thy head, which Dionyſius is reported, not vnfitly, to haue ſhewed vnto a certaine friend of his that wondred at his wealth and aucthoritie, who was a tyrant in deede, but a moſt graue conſiderer of the ſtate of tyrranny.
Ioy.
I haue purchaſed a tyranny by the ſwoorde.
Reaſon.
If thou haue gotten it by the ſwoorde, thou muſt keepe it by the ſwoord, and perhaps looſe it by the ſwoord: Thou haſt wonne woorthy ryches in deede, to be odious and fearefull vnto all men, and that whiche foloweth therof, to be continually a feareful burden to thy ſelfe. But to admit there were no danger, which in ſome Cities and countreys the nature of the people beareth ſufficiently, beyng apt to ſeruilitie and obedience, yet when, beyng out of feare and danger, thou ſhalt call to mynde what Laberius, a Knyght of Rome, ſayde vnto hym that was the fyrſt founder of this whiche nowe hath the name of a iuſt Empire: Needes, ſayth he, muſt he feare many, of whom many ſtande in feare. The reaſon of which ſaying is that whiche Ouid aleageth, For euerie man wiſheth him dead, whom he feareth: which was firſt alleaged by Ennius, where he ſayth, They hate, whom they feare: eche man wyſheth hym dead whom he feareth. But yf all feare and danger doo ceaſſe whiche hath happened vnto ſome Tyrantes, theyr boldneſſe beyng nooryſhed by publique calamities, or the experimented daſtardes of theyr Citizens: yet is it not a ſhame for thee to gouerne thoſe vnto whom it were more meete thou were theyr vnderlyng, beſydes thy iniurious force, which is the worſt thyng of al
••
▪
Ioy.
I haue put on a tyrranny.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt put of all humanitie and iuſtice, and choſen a troubleſome and blooddy lyfe, or els truely a doubtful death: Vnhappy man, whoſe death only thy countrey, which hare thee and brought thee vp, dooeth continually hope for. Is not he in ſufficient wofull caſe, whom al men would haue to be in woful caſe? And is not he moſt wretched, who cannot poſſible be ſo wretched, but is worthy to be more wretched?
Ioy.
I poſſeſſe the chiefeſt place among my Citizens.
Reaſon.
Thou poſſeſſeſt a tyrranny ouer thy Citizens, thou haſt placed thyne houſe vpon ſande, thy bed in the bryers, thy ſeate vpon a downefal, thy pouertie in rapynes, and thyne enuie in miſeries.
Of a Kyngdome and Empire. The .xcvi. Dialogue.
IOY.
BEholde, I am a Kyng by right.
Reaſon.
That cannot be long vnknowne, for what the difference is betweene a Kyng and a Tirant, I haue declared alredy: And what auayleth it for thee to be called a Kyng, yf thou be a Tirant? The ſafetie of a King and kingdome, conſiſteth not in a glorious name, but in true iuſtice. I deeme it leſſe euyl for thee to refourme the gouernment that thou haſt gotten, and afterward ſo to behaue thy ſelfe, that thou maieſt appeare to be a true King, then by tyrannical vexation to ſpoyle the kyngdome wherunto thou commeſt by right, wherin thou lawfully ſucceedeſt thy father: for there belongeth more true prayſe vnto the proceedyng and end, then to the begynning of thynges.
Ioy.
I am a kyng.
Reaſon.
It were better and more quiet to lyue vnder a good King, then to be a King thy ſelfe.
Ioy.
I haue aſcended into the Regal ſeate of the kyngdome.
Reaſon.
A conſpicuous place, and obiect vnto al mens eyes, and therfore dangerous for ſlouthfulnes, and paynful and difficult for vertue: For a good Kyng, is a publique ſeruant.
Ioy.
I am aduaunced to the Regal throne of a kyngdome.
Reaſon.
To the end thou mayeſt ſeeme woorthy, forget thy ſelfe and thyne owne affayres, thynke vpon thy people and the commom wealth: the day fyrſt that thou waſt made a Kyng, thou beganſt to dye to thy ſelfe, and to lyue for other, and which is the hardeſt caſe of al, for vnthankful and vniuſt conſiderers of thy trauayle.
Ioy.
I am come to a kyngdome.
Reaſon.
Perhaps thou mayeſt get there ſome tranſitorie glory, but no quietneſſe at all.
Ioy.
I reigne vprightly.
Reaſon.
Thou doeſt well, and a moſt acceptable thing vnto God. And knowe this, that thou ſerueſt ſuche as are alwayes repynyng and ful of complayntes, and that wyll ſcarce geue thee thankes before thy death. There is ſeldome any Kyng ſo good, but the people loue
hym better that ſhall ſucceede, who when he is come, the other is wyſhed for agayne. Theſe are the manners of the common people, to hate the thynges that are preſent, to deſyre the thynges that are to come, and to prayſe the thynges that are paſt. Howe then ſhould complayntes ceaſſe, yf euery good thyng that is preſent doo ſtynke, and nothyng pleaſeth, but that whiche grieueth, whether it be alredy paſt, or hoped for.
Ioy.
I haue gotten the Scepter and Diademe.
Reaſon.
Gloryous fetters, and a noble miſerie, which yf all men throughly knewe, truſt me, two woulde not ſo often ſtryue for one ſeate, but there would be more kyngdomes then Kynges.
Ioy.
I weare the princely robes.
Reaſon.
It is not the outward apparrel, but the inwarde furniture and princely mynde that maketh a Kyng. Alexander the Emperour of Rome was woont to ſay, that Empyre and gouerment conſiſted in vertue, and not in ſumptuouſneſſe.
Ioy.
I am aduaunced to a kyngdome.
Reaſon.
Now is the ſtate of the ſubiectes vncertayne, whether they be happie in that kind of happines which is imagined to be heare, or in miſerie. For a vertuous king, is the felicitie of a tranſitorie kingdome: but vnto thee remaineth doubtful trauaile, and weightie buſineſſe.
Ioy.
I am a Kyng, and a Kyng may doo what he lyſt.
Reaſon.
No man leſſe: yea, that which in olde tyme was lawful, is not ſo nowe: And yf perhaps thou looke for licentiouſneſſe by meanes of thy kyngdome, know that thou art no Kyng, but a Tirant.
Ioy.
I am a Kyng, and I may doo what I wyll.
Reaſon.
Nothing but what becommeth a King, who, as I ſaid, hath leſſe libertie then a priuate perſon. If in followyng this path thou ſeeke for pleaſure, thou art deceiued, and as the prouerbe ſayth, thou goeſt quite beſide the Cuſhyn: Pleaſure is far behinde, but this way leadeth vnto payne & glory.
Ioy.
I am a king, and I ſhal now lyue in aſſured tranquilitie.
Reaſon.
Nay rather if thou were in any heretofore, it is now loſt: he is but a fooliſh marryner who ſeeketh for calmneſſe & tranquilitie in forſakyng the Hauen, & making ſaile into the wyde ſea.
Ioy.
But I am made Emperour of Rome.
Reaſon.
A very honourable name, but a very hard office. To keepe great thinges is an harde matter: but what is it to build vp that which is fallen downe, to
gather togeather that which is diſperſed, to recouer that whiche is loſt, to reforme that which is defaced? thou haſt taken in hand the tyllyng of a forlorne Farme, which many of long tyme haue neglected: hard land requyreth many ſpades, and drye medowes much water: thou muſt abyde heate and cold, and if thy trauayle finde ſemblable ſucceſſe, thou ſhalt reape the commendation, & thy ſucceſſour the reſidue, thou ſhalt ſow for hym, and for thy ſelfe the Harueſt wyl come to late, for it requireth many ſommers.
Ioy.
I am aduanced to the Empire, I wyl take my reſt & lyue in ſecuritie.
Reaſon.
Thou art in a falſe perſuaſion, thou couldeſt neuer do it leſſe: haſt thou clymbed vp to the top of an hygh hyl to auoyde windes and lyghtnyng? Haſt thou not read the ſaying of Horace: The hougie Pine tree is moſt often ſhaken with windes, & high towres when they are ouerthrowne haue the greater fall, and lightenyng ſtriketh the loftieſt mountaines?
How much otherwyſe, dyd the expert & wyſe princes Auguſtus & Diocletian iudge of the excellencie of this ſtate, wherof the one, as we reade, thought of geuing ouer the Empire, the other, gaue it ouer in deede, and being called vnto it againe, would not graunt therunto? Howe much otherwiſe did Marcus Aurelius & Pertinax, wherof the firſt being by adoption called to the hope of thempire, is reported to haue diſputed much of the diſcommodities of thempyre, the other being made Emperour, to haue abhorred thempyre? Great is the aduauncement to the Empyre, great are the toyles in the Empire, & when a man is once riſen aloft, the greater and more greeuous is his fal. If thou wilt not beleeue me, aſke Iulius Caeſar, & Caius Caligula, & Claudius, & Nero, & Galba, & Otho, and Vitellius, & Domitianus, & Commodus, & Pertinax, of whom I ſpake laſt: Moreouer Baſſianus & Macrinus with his ſonne Diadumenus, and of al other, the moſt filthy Heliogabalus, and far vnlyke vnto hym in manners Alexander, and the more that thou mayeſt maruayle, the mother of them both, with her ſonne: Alſo the Maximi and the Maximiniani, and the Maximi and Gordiani: Moreouer, the Philippes and Decius, and Gallus, and Voluſianus, and Valerius, famous for his notable calamitie, & Galienus the contemner of his fathers miſery: To be ſhort, Aurelianus & Probus, Iulianus & Licinius,
Conſtantius and Valens, Gratianus and Valentinianus, and that I may not weery thee with rehearſing all, demaunde the queſtion of that whole race and ſucceſſion of Tirants and Princes, and they wyl anſwere thee all alyke, that looke by what way they aroſe to the Empyre, by the ſame way they ran to ruine. And dooeſt thou then imagine that thou ſhalt finde reſt there, and lyue inſecuritie, where all haue founde danger and trouble, and many a moſt miſerable end of theyr lyues? This dyd not thoſe foure imagine to them ſelues, whom I named in the begynning: Not he that was grandfather on the mothers ſide to the Emperour Antonius Pius, Arius Antonius, an holy vertuous man, as Hiſtories terme hym, but as I confeſſe of hym, a wyſe man, who picied Neruas ſtate, in that he had taken the Empyre vpon hym. For truely it is iniuriouſly doone to enuy at Princes, when as in deede they ought rather to be pitied.
Ioy.
I am an Emperour, and I am able to reuenge.
Reaſon.
Againſt the enemies of the common wealth perhaps, but not thine owne. For theſe, if thou be a true Prince in deede, by thine aduauncement ſecuritie is purchaſed: thy publique duetie and godlines muſt bridle thy priuate affections. Thou canſt not be enemie to this man and that man, ſince thou haſt deſerued to be father vnto all men. For a Prince hath that care and auctoritie ouer his ſubiectes, that a father hath ouer his children. A good Prince is the father of his countrey: there was none of all his titles whiche that woorthy Emperour Auguſtus accepted more thankefully then this, who repreſſyng the motions of his youth, determined to fulfyll that name of a father: and therfore, they which were ſomtime thine enimies, are nowe thy chyldren.
Ioy.
I am an Emperour, I may be reuenged.
Reaſon.
Thou oughteſt not to vſe thy power that way, but perſwade thy ſelfe thus, that when ye power of a great Empyre falleth vpon excellent minds, and that are equal to their calling, it is the occaſion of pardon, and not of reuenge, wherof the more vile & weake a mans mynde and ſtrength is, the more he is greedy. In which matter, it were expedient for thee to remember the ſaying of Hadriane the Emrour, who (as it is written of him) whē he was made Emperour, ſaid vnto one that was his enimie, thou haſt now eſcaped my hands:
A princely and magnifical ſaying, and fit for an Emperour.
Ioy.
I am an Emperour, & I ſhal haue treaſure anſwerable to my charges.
Reaſon.
This ſaying tendeth to rapine, and as of other thinges, ſo alſo of charges and expenſes there is a continuall ſtreame and bottomleſſe pit, which can neuer be ſatiſfied. It would require a long time to ſet downe in as large maner the follies and madneſſe of men, but ſpecially of ye Emperours of Rome, in this behalfe. Notwithſtanding, among al I wil touch a few, & of them a few thinges among many. Moſt notorious was the madneſſe of Caius, who made a bridge betweene Baiae and Puteoli, which raging crooke of the ſea he firſt paſſed ouer on horſebacke, & afterterward triumphantly in a charret. What ſhal I ſpeake of pearles of great price diſſolued in Vineger, & golden loaues, and golden ſeruices of meate ſet before the gueſtes at the table, whereby the meaning was not according to the common cuſtome of feaſtes to ſtake the gueſtes hunger, but to conſume the wealth of ye Empire, and to prouoke their auarice? Adde hereunto moreouer caſting of money among the people, great moles & heapes of ſtones & rubbiſh throwen into the rough and deepe ſea, hard rockes cut in ſunder, plaine fieldes throwen vp into hilles, & toppes of hilles made leauel with plaine fieldes, to the one earth added, from the other earth taken away, and that ſo ſuddenly, that the ſtrangneſſe of the wonder was nothyng inferiour to the violence done vnto nature, to wit, when death was the rewarde of delaying the woorke, by which meanes hauing within one yeeres ſpace conſumed the great treaſure of his predeceſſour Tiberius, and all the riches of the whole Empire, he was driuen to extreame pouertie, and moſt ſhameful rapine. Among theſe thinges I do not recken, how that he had determined in his minde to make a cut through Iſthmus the hyl of Corinth, which although it woulde haue ben a woorke of great charges, yet had it been profitable for ſea faring men, whereby the two ſeas had been made one, and they that had paſſed from Brunduſium to Athens, or Chalcis, or Byzantium, ſhoulde haue auoyded the great crooke of Achaia. Next followeth Nero, matche and ſuperiour vnto him in madneſſe, whoſe diſordinate expences had no meaſure, ſpecially in building, wherein he ſurpaſſed all prodigal fooles, and him ſelfe alſo. He was not more
••••
ful in any other thing, then in this: and therfore I wyll touch on
•
〈…〉
numerable follies. He buyided an houſe, which reached fro
•
the hyl
〈…〉
vnto
•
ſguiline, and ſtretched alſo ouer a gre
••
•••
art of the citie, ſo that not vnwoorthily among the tauntes & reproches wherwith the people with moſt free indignation girded hym home, this alſo was caſt againſt him, All Rome ſhalbe one houſe, ye Romanes depart ye to the Vehi, yf ſo be that this houſe doo not alſo ſtreatch vnto the Vehi.
This houſe he commaunded to be called the golden houſe, not vnfitly, declaring the price by the name. For the houſe was ſeeled and knotted with precious ſtones, and of ſuch height, that at the entraunce
〈◊〉
of ſtoode a Coloſſus, an hundred and twentie foote high. Within was a Gallerie and Hal ſeeled about with pendentes of Golde & Iuorie, and vpon the top deuiſes of ſtrange workemanſhyp, with motions after the maner of heauen, by litle and litle, of their owne accord turning about day and nyght without intermiſſion: Alſo a Ponde like the Sea, adorned round about vppon the ſhoare with buyldinges, after the maner of a Citie: Moreouer, fieldes and paſtures, and vineyardes, and woods, repleniſhed with al kindes of liuing thinges. The middeſt of this houſe, as far as could be coniectured, was that place which is cōmonly called Coloſſeum, whoſe ruines do yet at this day aſtoniſh the beholders: and the more to augment the wonder of the matter, all theſe thinges were in the very middes of Rome. So that notwithſtanding he ſeemed to him ſelfe not only not to haue exceeded, but not yet to haue anſweared the greatneſſe that ought to be in an Emperours houſe, inſomuch as when he dedicated the houſe, he made no greater wonder at it, but ſaid this much onely, Nowe at length I begin to dwell lyke a man. I omit theſe trifles, that he neuer ware one garment twice, that he neuer went iourney with leſſe then a thouſande Charrets, that his Mules were ſhod with ſhooes of ſiluer, that he fiſhed with a golden Net, that his roapes & cordes were made of ſine Purple ſilke: with many ſuche other matters exceeding credite, and breedyng tediouſneſſe. But who wyl not wonder at theſe thinges that readeth of them, but more wonder if he beheld them, ye remnantes and tokens whereof remayne to this day? The Fiſhponde that was begun from the bridge Miſenus, and ſhould haue reached to
the
•
ake Auernus, compaſſed and couered with wonderful galleries, and the dytch that was caſt from Auernus to H
•
ſtia
•
〈◊〉
ſo long diſtance of way, and through ſo many ſ
••
lles, w
•••
e bringing the ſea into it, and ſayling in it without the accidentes
•••
t happen on the ſea, he might auoyde both the toyle of traueyling by lande, and the weeriſomneſſe of faring by water: the length whereof, as now the inhabitantes of thoſe quarters doo accompt it, is well knowne vnto al men, but as Tranguillus reckneth, is an hundred & threeſcore mile: the breadth was ſuch, that two Gallies might meete, and one not touch nor hinder another. Which woorke if he
〈◊〉
finiſhed, he had beggered al Italy, and the whole Common wealth, but that death onely prouided a remedie for ſo great miſchiefes of the world. After him followeth Aurelius Verus, who, that I may let paſſe other thinges, made ſuche a ſupper, that yf he woulde haue made the lyke dynner, I knowe not whether the Romane wealth would haue ben ſufficient. Whiche thing when his brother Marcus Aurelius vnderſtoode, beyng as great a friend to modeſtie as this was enimie, is reported to haue lamented, taking compaſſion vpon the Common wealth and the Empire decaying. I leaue others, for theſe are too many, and I knowe that there be ſome of you that wyll thinke theſe examples to be longer then neede, and the remedies ſhorter then promiſe. But ſometime it delighteth a learned man, or one that loueth learning and honeſtie, to heare the madneſſe of fooles, whiche may be a warning for him to followe the contrarie, and with al myght and mayne to eſchew the lyke. All theſe thynges tende to this ende, that thou mayeſt recompt with thy ſelfe, what it is wherein thou hopeſt to haue treaſure anſwerable to thy charges. For as good huſbandrie and modeſtie require no great treaſures, ſo neyther treaſures nor whole empires are ſufficient for prodigalitie and riotouſneſſe. And this cauſe, hath not onely conſtrayned men of meane callyng, but almoſt all Princes, thoſe I meane, that haue followed the vayne of theſe latter times, of neceſſitie to fall to rapine and extortion, whiche hath geuen occaſion vnto many of an haſtened and miſerable death.
Ioy.
Are not ſo many Cities ſufficient, to beare one mans charges▪
Reaſon.
Let theſe aunſweare thee, of whom
I haue ſpoken ſo muche, and others innumerable, whom the lyke plague hath brought to lyke confuſion. To conclude, this moſt deepe denne of expences, that I may ſo tearme it, lyke as that gapyng pitte of Curtius in olde tyme, can not be filled with any ryches, but may be reſtrayned by vertue, and ſpecially by modeſtie. Wherein it auayleth to remember that it is others goodes which thou waſteſt: and in this poynt alſo it is profitable to cal often to minde ye ſaying of the Emperour Hadriane, which, as it is read, he was wont many times to repeate in his ſpeaches vnto the people, & in the Senat, That he would ſo gouerne the Common wealth, as knowing that it was the peoples commoditie, and not his owne: A fytte ſaying for ſo worthy a Prince.
Ioy.
I reigne, and reuenge is mine.
Reaſon.
Truely it is not thine, for he lieth not that ſayd, Reuenge is mine. And verily, if thou be a true King, nothing is leſſe thine then reuenge, and nothing more, then mercifulneſſe. I coulde wyſhe that nature had denyed ſtinges to the kinges of Men, as well as ſhe hath to the kinges of Bees: but now ſhe hath onely geuen an example to the free creature, not taken away his libertie: but that which ſhe doth not enforce, it is my part to exhort. Behold that ſmal, but diuine Worme, and leaue thou of thy ſting likewiſe, not in the wounde, but before the wounde. The firſt is the part of a baſe perſon, the ſeconde of a kyng: otherwyſe, as not without iuſtice, ſo neyther art thou a king without mercie, no not ſo muche as a man, but onely, as the Fable ſayth, a crowned Lion.
Ioy.
I am Emperour of Rome.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt Auguſtus, Nero, & Vitellius, whom thou mayeſt followe. Vnto theſe three, not only al Princes, but al men are reſtrayned. Chooſe vnto thy ſelfe then one of theſe whom thou mayeſt followe. If thou be delyghted in latter examples, thou haſt of the ſame callyng Traiane, Decius, and Galienus.
Ioy.
I am Emperour of Rome, Lorde of the worlde.
Reaſon.
The time hath been when that might haue been almoſt truely auowed, but to what ſtate things now are come thou ſeeſt. And to thintent it may be perceiued, how ſafe it is to commit great matters vnto fooles and daſtardes, how great prouidence is there nowe fallen into how great madnes? & how great payne & diligence, into how great ſlouthfulneſſe? The Romane Empire is now no longer a
thyng to reioyce in, but an example of humane fragilitie, and the mutabilitie of fortune.
Ioy.
I am famous for mine Empire.
Reaſon.
Famous names, obſcure thynges, deceytes of the worlde, credulitie of man: theſe are hookes whereby flexible mindes are plucked hyther and thyther. The names of an Empire, and of a kingdome, are glorious names: but an Empire and a Kingdome are the moſt difficult functions of all other, yf they be ryghtly executed, otherwyſe they be dangerous and deadly: neyther is that princely ſaying commended without cauſe, The glorious Crowne is more full of care, danger, and ſundry ſortes of miſeries, then is the honeſt and happie peece of cloath, whiche yf men dyd knowe, there is none woulde ſeeke for it, or reioyce when he had gotten it, no not willingly receyue it when it weere offered, or take it vp from the grounde, yf he founde it. Wherefore awake at length ye mortall men, open your eyes, and be not alwayes blynded with falſe glitteringes: Meaſure and weygh your owne bodyes, conſider in how narrowe roomes you are encloſed, deſpiſe not Geometers and Philoſophers, the whole earth is but a pricke, your ende is frayle and vncertayne, and whyle ye be young, and whyle ye be in health, ye wreſtle with death: and when ye thynke that ye ryſe, then doo ye deſcende, and when ye ſeeme to ſtande moſt ſureſt, then faſteſt doo ye fall, neyther is there any lyuing creature that is more forgetfull of it owne ſtrength: and many tymes, when ye be Woormes, halfe dead, yet ye dreame of kingdomes and empires. Remember that you your ſelues are a very ſmal pricke, or to ſay more truely, a pricke of a ſhort pricke, yea, ye are not ſo much as the thouſandth part of a pricke. This part lyke proude inhabitantes ye ouerbeare, who ſhortly ſhall be ouerborne your ſelues, and ſhall no longer poſſeſſe any iote of all that ye haue, but that your bodyes ſhall waxe cold and pale with death. And whereas ye be now blinde and mad, and walke with a proud ſwelling countenaunce, that whiche nature hath made narrowe, make ye more large in minde, and while ye be in bandes, imagine great matters, and when ye be dying, thynke vppon immortall thynges: and conſyder with your ſelues, how that in this place and time, which in effect are nothing, ye proſecute your ridiculous and mad fanſies, during the ſpace of a very ſhort tyme, to wit, rapines,
iniuries, reuengementes, troubleſome hopes, vncertayne honours, vnſatiable deſires, and your owne furies and madneſſe: and on the otherſide, ye affectate Kingdomes, Gouernmentes, & Empires, Nauies, Armies, and Battayles. And when ye haue thus continued long time in your madneſſe, whether ye be Emperours or Ploughmen, Ryche men or Beggers, your bodyes are but rotten earth, your lyfe but as a lyght ſmoke driuen away with a ſtrong blaſt, and at length, but perhaps too late, ye ſhal ſcarce vnderſtand that this worlde was but an high way to paſſe through, and no countrey to remayne in, and that al theſe names of Kingdomes and Empires are but vayne and falſe.
Ioy.
I am made an Emperour.
Reaſon.
When fooles be made Emperours, they do not remember that they haue ben and are men. Like as is the ſaying of Tiberius the Emperour, who, when a certaine friende of his, being deſirous, by rehearſal of certaine matters paſſed betweene them, to bring him in minde of their auncient familiaritie, hauing ſcarce opened his mouth to ſay theſe woordes, O ſir, do you remember: he preuented him ſuddenly, and brake of his talke, and ſuffred him not to proceede any farther, but anſweared haſtily vnto him, I remember not what I haue ben: a wicked and proud ſaying, and not only deuoyde of friendſhyp, but of al humanitie.
Ioy.
I am aſcended to the Romane Empire.
Reaſon.
Why doeſt thou reioyce hereof: Men alſo aſcende to the Wheele and Gallowes. And contrariwiſe, they lye downe in their beddes, and ſyt downe in their chayres, and moſt times quietneſſe dwelleth in lowe places. Climbing hath been ſhame vnto ſome, puniſhment vnto many, and payneful to all.
Of a furnished Armie. The .xcvii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue a furniſhed Armie.
Reaſon.
I ſhoulde haue marueyled if that an Armie had not followed a Kingdome & an Empire, that is to ſay, one miſerie another. But Seneca commendeth Scipio Africanus to the Starres, not becauſe he ledde great Armies, which frantike and wicked perſons haue done alſo, but for his great moderation, which truely an Armie neuer bringeth to a man, but often taketh it away, or often diminiſheth it: for what vertue is there ſo ſounde, which the keeping companie with
ſo many rakehels & blooddy Butchers, and their wicked example, wyl not quayle?
Ioy.
I haue a great Armie.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt now occaſion to liue in ye fieldes: For neyther can Armies be receiued into cities, neither peaceable citizens & armed ſouldiours dwell well togeather.
Ioy.
I haue a moſt valient Armie.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt matter of war, and loſſe of peace: if thou reioyce in this, doubtleſſe thou belongeſt not to the heauenly citie.
Ioy.
I haue an huge Armie.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt armed enimies on both ſides of thee, from whom thou art defended neyther by wal nor trenche, truely an heauy and dangerous caſe.
Ioy.
I haue many valient legions.
Reaſon.
The tediouſnes, trouble, & inſolencie of theſe: no man can eaſily recite, but thou ſhalt learne by experimenting, how much it is better to liue alone, then with many legions: For truely there are no iniuries, no falſhood, no crueltie to be compared to ye wickedneſſe of ſouldiours. Thou ſhalt by thine owne experience finde, how true that verſe is which euery boy hath in his mouth, There is no faith nor honeſtie in men that folowe the warres.
Ioy.
I am Lord & gouernour of a great Armie.
Reaſon.
Perhaps thou were better be a ſheapheard among Tygers & Beares. The furie of wilde beaſtes may be tamed, but the hartes of ſome men can neuer be reclaimed: and wilde beaſtes do threaten before they ſtrike, but the malice of men doth ſuddenly breake foorth. Theſe whom thou tearmeſt thine, & call thee Lord, alas this hireling & inconſtant generation, for how ſmal a price, and vppon how light occaſion wyll they be changed, and of thine owne ſouldiours, become thine enimies? Their flattering countenances ſhalbe turned into horrour, & their right handes, which they deliuered vnto thee, perhaps ſhalbe conuerted to thy deſtruction: and if this happen, it is no rare nor vnaccuſtomed matter. At Placentia was that terrible commotion, when as Iulius Caeſars armie rebelled againſt him, wherof this was ſpoken, What Captaine woulde not that tumult haue made afrayde? Howbeit, Caeſar, through his wonderful conſtancie and fortitude, repreſſed the vproare, & puniſhing the aucthours, appeaſed the armie, & brought them to obedience. Te like did Alexander, that was Emperour of Rome, at Antioche, & it tooke magnificall effect. But goe forwarde a lytle, and thou ſhalt ſee that ſhortly after he was ſlayne
by none other then his owne Souldiours. In the ſame maner Pertinax periſhed before: in lyke ſort afterward, the two Maximi, the father and the ſonne: ſo Balbinus and Maximus: ſo Probus, a moſt valient Captayne: ſo Gratiane and Valentinian the younger, a couple of good brethren, the one betrayed by his legions, the other by his companion: ſo likewyſe others innumerable, whom their enimies coulde not ouercome, haue periſhed by their owne armies, and thoſe whom they called their Souldiours, they founde eruell Butchers. Take heede therefore wherein thou reioyceſt: For this thy cruel and vnmerciful armie, as he ſayeth, is a beaſt with many heades, and dareth to aduenture any thyng, beyng thereunto prouoked by anger, want, or couetouſneſſe.
Ioy.
I haue an huge armie.
Reaſon.
At the Theſſalike battayle, ſayth Florus, there was nothyng that ouerthrewe Pompei ſo muche, as the greatneſſe of his armie: and it fortuneth almoſt in all battayles, that the greater armie is vanquiſhed, and the leſſer vanquiſheth.
Of a well appoynted Nauie. The .xcviii. Diaalogue.
IOY.
I Haue a well appoynted Nauie.
Reaſon.
And the Ayre hath well appoynted Windes, the Sea well appoynted Waues and Rockes: Thou creature of the Land, why medleſt thou with the Sea?
Ioy.
I haue a well furniſhed Nauie.
Reaſon.
There be alſo tempeſtes for thee & ſhypwrackes wel furniſhed: thou ioyeſt in thyne owne daungers, toyle, and expences, whereof there is no ende nor meaſure: of all your madneſſes, a Nauie is the moſt chargeable.
Ioy.
My Nauie is furniſhed.
Reaſon.
The violence of the heauen and ſea wyll ſhake it, and be it neuer ſo well appoynted, a ſuddayne ſtorme wyl ſcatter and deſtroy it, whereof not to conſyder whyle thou ſayleſt on the Sea, is the part of a foole.
Ioy.
I haue a Nauie vpon the Sea.
Reaſon.
Are ye not in daungers enough vpon the Lande, but muſt ye trouble the Seas alſo? It is not ſufficient for you to digge the earth, from whence is fette the hurtfull Iron, and
Golde that is more hurtful then iron, as Ouid ſayth: but yee haue alſo ventured vpon the rough and horrible ſeas, which the firſt men did only wonder at, in euerie place ſeeking your owne trouble, and in euerie place your owne danger, and in this poinct yee be wakeful and diligent, and in al other thinges ſlouthful and negligent.
Ioy.
I haue entred vpon the Sea with a great armie.
Reaſon.
Thynke vpon thy returne, for it is an eaſye matter to
••
t foorth. The Sea is commonly calme at the firſt ſettyng forward, but when men are once entred, it waxeth monſtruous and
•••
ible: notwithſtandyng, for one that was borne among men to couet to lyue among Dolphins and Monſters of the Sea, is doubtleſſe a wonderful delyght of a wyld and rough mynd.
Ioy.
I haue a great, and valiant Nauy.
Reaſon.
Perhaps it were more for thy profite and ſafetie eyther to ſyt in a litle Boate, or to ſtand vpon the Shore and angle for fyſhes, then with an armed Nauy, to offer violence vnto nations. Many by theyr great Na
•
es hath been pricked forth to dangerous boldneſſe, which hath enforced them thyther where they haue wyſhed them ſelues at home. This the Grecians learned to be true at the mountayne Caphareus, when they returned from Troy, namely the Lacedemonians at Arginuſis, the Athenians at the ſhore of Syracuſ
•
e, and the Carthagiens at the Ilandes Egrates. Many dangers happen vnto Nauies, not only by enimies, but alſo by the Sea. To conclude, when as there were before ſundry kyndes of death, this one kynde more is now added to the number. O blind fooles, and to to lauyſh of your lyues, which ye loue ſo dearely, ſeekyng for death euery where, which ye feare aboue all thinges.
Of Engines and Artillerie. The .xcix Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue al kynds of Engines.
Reaſon.
This is alſo a princely madneſſe, to haue wherewith to hurt men when ye lyſt, who of duetie ought to be moſt beneficial of al men. And for this conſyderation only kinges were firſt choſen and ſet ouer kingdomes to gouerne men, and of them agayne to be honoured and loued as parentes. Some alſo that are called fathers of their
countrey, do euery thyng quite contrary, and are feared and hated of all men as common theeues and tormentours.
Ioy.
I haue ſtore of engines to ouerthrow townes with al.
Reaſon.
How much better were it to buylde them, and preſerue them with all? But perhaps thou thynkeſt it a more glorious matter to deſtroy, and haddeſt rather ſeeme to be the Policertes of thy age: but Townes are not alwayes ouerthrowne with engynes. When Caeſar in his warres in Fraunce, had erected very great fortes agaynſt the Hadriatici
•
, firſt his enimies contemned hym, as though he attempted far vnpoſſible for humane power to archiue, but then they ſaw them mooued & brought cloſe to their walles, turnyng theyr contempt to aſtoniſhment and feare, they gaue vp theyr defence, and conuerted them ſelues to conditions of yeeldyng. And lykewyſe in Caeſars ciuyl warres, Brutus beyng captayne, when he had erected and brought the lyke vnto the walles of Miſſilia, he caſt the beſieged into as great aſtoniſhment, but not into as great feare: and therfore iſſuyng foorth in the nyght, they ſet on fire the turrets, and engynes.
Ioy.
I abound with engynes and artillery.
Reaſon.
Al theſe thinges wherof thou boaſteſt, apparteyne rather to the iniuryng of other, then to the encreaſing of thyne owne honour. How much more commendable were it, and worthy for a man, to abounde rather with the inſtrumentes of mercy, then of crueltie, and rather to poſſeſſe that wherwith he may geue entertaynment to his friendes, and thoſe that are in neceſſitie, then by beſiegyng innocent townes, to diſturbe the common tranquilitie.
Ioy.
I haue engines that do caſt great ſtones.
Reaſon.
To caſt ſtones, is the part of madneſſe.
Ioy.
I haue innumerable engynes, and artyllery.
Reaſon.
It is marueyle but thou haſt alſo pellets of braſſe, whiche are throwne foorth with terrible noyſe of fire: thou miſerable man, was it not yenough to heare the thunder of the immortall God from heauen? O crueltie ioyned with pryde? From the earth alſo was ſent foorth vnimitable lighning with thunder, as Virgil ſayth, which the madnes of men hath counterfeited to do the like, and that which was woont to be throwne out of the cloudes, is now throwne abrode with a woodden inſtrument, but of a deuyliſh deuice, which as ſome ſuppoſe was inuented by Archimedes
at what tyme Marcellus beſieged Syracuſae. Howbeit he deuiſed it to the entent to defend the libertie of his Citizens, and eyther to auoyde or defende the deſtruction of his countrey, whiche you nowe alſo vſe to the ſubiection or ſubuertion of free people. This plague of late dayes was but rare, inſomuch as it was beheld with great woonder, but now, as your myndes are apt to learne the worſt thyngs, ſo is it as common as any other kinde of munition.
Ioy.
I abounde in plentie of artyllery.
Reaſon.
It were better thou aboundedſt in the hate of warre, and loue of peace, foraſmuch? as other weapons are ſignes of an vnquiet mynde, and theſe of a degenerate minde, and neyther acceptable to ſuch as loue peace, but rather hated of couragious warryours. Finally, vnderſtand this much, he that firſt inuented artillery, was eyther a daſtard or a traytour, deſirous to hurt, and feareful of his enimies: and therfore he deuyſed as Lucane ſayth, How to ſhew his ſtrength from a far, and to commit his force to the windes, as far as they wyl beare them. Whiche may be vnderſtoode of al kinds of weapons that are throwne. A valyant warryour chooſeth rather to encounter his enimie at hande, which the artylleryſt eſcheweth.
Of Treaſure layde vp in ſtore. The .C. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue layde vp Treaſure in ſtore for warres.
Reaſon.
An euyl thyng, for worſe purpoſes: Howe much more profitable were it for thee and others to lay it vp for the vſe of thy friends and countrey, and ſpecially for the neceſſities of them that want? that in deede were true treaſure: but nowe the pryce of the heauenly treaſure, is conuerted to the purchaſyng of Hel.
Ioy.
I haue treaſure for the vſe of war.
Reaſon.
Treaſure extenuateth the ſtrength of the mynde, and warres doo enfechle men, and both are hurtful.
Ioy.
I haue great ayde of treaſure for warres.
Reaſon.
Treaſure commonly bryngeth to the owner feare of looſyng, to the enimie hope of gayne, and boloneſſe to fight: Who wyl not wyllyngly goe into their warres, where he may wyn much, and looſe nothyng: Thou
readeſt in Horace of a poore fellowe that fought earneſtly and ouercame, & when he was rich, ſuddeinly fel againe into pouertie. And if thou liſt to conſyder of moſt ſpecial and cheife examples, thou ſhalt perceiue that while the Romanes were poore, they were the conquerours of all nations, and then began to be vanquiſhed when they waxed rich: ſo when riches came, victories and manhood departed, delightes and wantonneſſe alſo, which are companions to riches, entred in: ſo that the wryters of thoſe times dyd not without cauſe complayne of the departyng of the Romane pouertie. Pouertie is a very good nurſe of vertues, and wealth, of vyces. Thou hopeſt of victorie by meanes of thy treaſure, but thou haſt more cauſe to feare thereof: riches haue made many daſtardly and hartles, al proud and loftie, but none at al valiant.
Ioy.
I haue gathered togeather a great treaſure.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt heaped vp care and enuy to thy ſelfe, prouocation to thyne enimies, vnquietneſſe to theeues.
Of reuenge. The .Ci. Dialogue.
IOY.
MYne enimie is fallen into my hands, I haue power now to be reuenged.
Reaſon.
Nay rather there is happened vnto thee a trial of thy ſelfe, whether thou be ſlaue to anger, or friend to mercy: which were vncertaine, vnleſſe thou mighteſt be ſed to both. Many thynke them ſelues to be that they are not, which they do know when they haue tried them ſelues what they are.
Ioy.
Myne enimie is in my handes, I may be reuenged.
Reaſon.
The bounds of power are one thing, and of honeſtie, another: thou muſt not reſpect what thou canſt do, but what is ſcenely for thee to doo, leaſt yf thou wouldeſt doo as much as thou canſt do, it were better thou couldeſt do nothing at al.
Ioy.
I may be reueuged, and there is nothyng more ſweete then reuengement.
Reaſon.
There is nothyng more bytter then anger, which I maruaile why one ſayd it was ſweete: but yf thou feele any ſweetneſſe in it, it is a ſauage ſweetneſſe, vnmeete for a man, and proper to beaſtes, and that not of al kindes, but of the moſt bruiteſt and fierceſt. There is nothyng that leſſe apparteyneth to a man, then crueltie and wyldneſſe: and contrarywyſe,
nothing that is more ſittyng for him then mercy and gentleneſſe, vnto whiche there is nothyng more repugnaunt then reuengement, and whatſoeuer ſharpneſſe and extremitie one man ſheweth againſt another in haſtineſſe of mynde. But yf the name of reuengement be ſo ſweete vnto thee, I wyl tel thee howe thou mayeſt vſe it with much glory: the moſt excellent kynde of reuengement, is to ſpare and be merciful.
Ioy.
I may be reuenged.
Reaſon.
It is much more beuer and gloryous to forget iniuries, then to reuenge them: there is no forgetfulneſſe more honor able then of offences. This one thyng the moſt excellent Oratour, aſcribed to the moſt excellent prayſe of a moſt excellent captayne, to wit, That he vſed to forget nothing but iniuries. And there is nothyng forbyddeth but that one mans prayſe, not being taken from hym, may alſo be aſcribed vnto many: This one commoditie, the goodes of the mynde haue eſpecially aboue al other ryches, when they are deſperſed abrode, they do not decreaſe nor peryſh. Take thou therfore vppon thee this moſt noble perſuaſion of Caeſars, whiche ſhall make thee far more renowmed, then were Cinaeas and Tarmadas with theyr great memories: For the one commeth of nature, the other from vertue.
Ioy.
I take pleaſure in reuenge.
Reaſon.
The delyght of reuenge, is ſhort: but of mercy, euerlaſtyng. And of two delectable thyngs, that is to be preferred that continueth longeſt: Doo thou that this day, wherof thou mayeſt receiue perpetual delight. There is no delight greater nor more aſſured, then that which procedeth from the pureneſſe of a mans conſcience, and the remembrance of thynges well doone.
Ioy.
It is honeſt to reuenge.
Reaſon.
But more honeſt to forgeue: Mercy hath commended many, but reuengement none: there is nothing among men ſo neceſſary, or ſo common, as forgeueneſſe: for there is no man but offendeth, and no man but he hath neede of mercy, whiche being denyed, who ſhal take away ſo great abundance of faultes & offences, or renue the brokē league of humane ſocietie? Men ſhal alwaies ſtriue one againſt another, & the wrath of God ſhal alwaies ſtriue againſt them: there ſhalbe no end of contention & puniſhment, neither ſhal weapons or lyghtnings ceaſſe. Spare therfore, be mercyful, and moderate thy mind. Do thou ſo vnto a man, as thou wouldſt haue
another man, yea God hym ſelfe, do vnto thee. Impudent is he that deſireth pardon of his lord and maiſter, and denieth the ſame to his felow ſeruant. The Doctor Eccleſiaſticus cryeth out diſdaynyngly, One man keepeth anger in ſtore agaynſt another, and doeth he ſeeke for pardon at Gods handes? He taketh no compaſſion vpon a man that is lyke to hym ſelfe, and yet he prayeth for his owne ſinnes.
Ioy.
I do no iniury, but reuenge.
Reaſon.
What ſkilleth it whether thou offend firſt or laſt: It is not indifferent to miſlyke that in another, which thou lykeſt in thy ſelfe: Wylt thou vſe that crueltie, which thou condemneſt in thyne enimie, and be lyke hym in manners, whom thou art vulyke in mynde, and folow that thy ſelfe, which is worſt in hym:
Ioy.
I wyl, and it is lawful for me to be reuenged.
Reaſon.
Thou oughteſt neyther to haue a wyll, neyther is it permitted by any lawe, for although defence be lawful, yet reuengement is forbydden: it is written, He that wylbe reuenged, ſhal finde reuengement from God. And againe, as I ſayd before, Vengeance is mine, and I wyl repay when I ſee good, ſayth the Lorde. Tarry thou for that tyme, let him reuenge thy quarrel, who is Lord both of the offendour and the offended. It is common among one lords ſeruants for one to know another: yf thou haue any ſparke of good nature in thee, if thou haue any care to attayne to perfection, rather wiſh than pray that he do not reuenge, ſo ſhalt thou turne thine enemies offence, to thine owne commoditie.
Ioy.
I minde to be reuenged.
Reaſon.
Geue ſpace to thyne anger, geue tyme to thy determination, bridle thyne affection, put it of, deferre the time, eyther it wil ſlake, or waxe colde. One ſhort houre appeaſeth the raging ſea.
Ioy.
I wil bee reuenged.
Reaſon.
By one deede thou ſhalt offend manye: one iniurye hath oftentymes made innumerable enimies.
Ioy.
I wil be reuenged.
Reaſon.
Thou wylt hurt thy ſelfe more then thyne enimie. Perhaps thou mayeſt deſtroy his body or riches, but thou ſhalt caſt away thyne owne ſoule and eſtimation.
Ioy.
I wyll be reuenged.
Reaſon.
How often hath an iniurie been doubled by ſtudie of reuengement? Many times it hath been dangerous for him that hath been iniured to diſſemble his only remedy, yea many tymes to haue made complaint, or but by a ſecrete becke to pretende that he ſuſteyneth iniurie.
Ioy.
I may deſtroy myne enimie.
Reaſon.
It is better to get a friend, then to take away an enimie, but to do both at once, is beſt, which is by no meanes more eaſily accompliſhed, then by forgeuyng when thou mayeſt be reuenged. The fitteſt inſtrument to take away an enimie, is lenitie: wherin if credite might haue ben geuen to the auncient and wiſe Herennius, neyther had the late conquerous armie of the Samnites abode ye Romane yoke, nor the general Pontius with the reſidue firſt ſuffered the yoke, and afterwarde alone the axe.
Ioy.
I am much prouoked and mooued to reuenge.
Reaſon.
Reſiſt that prouocation with godly thoughtes, and al maner examples that may enclyne thy mynde to lenitie, and ſpecially by recomptyng the ſhortneſſe & frailtie of this lyfe, for it ſeemeth vnto Seneca, with whom I agree, the moſt effectual remedie, in his booke of the appeaſyng of anger: with whom accordeth the Doctour of whom I ſpake erewhyle. For what meant he other, where he ſayth, Remember the laſt thyngs, and leaue of enmitie? Doubtles this: for there is nothyng that nooryſheth enmitie more, then forgetfulneſſe of a mans ſtate and condition. For this man, whoſe death thou ſo much thirſteſt, be aſſured that without doubt he ſhal dye, and that quickly, perhaps to day, and peraduenture although thou thynke it not, thou mayeſt dye before hym. Stay awhyle, and moderate thy ſelf, that ſhal come to paſſe which thou deſireſt, and that which thou feareſt: Howbeit the death which thou prepareſt for thine enimie, is in making redy for him not by thy procurement. What auayleth it to haſten the courſe of the ſwyft deſtinie, and to embrue thy handes, that ſhal dye, with the blood of hym that ſhall dye? It is not only a wicked part, but alſo a needeleſſe matter, agreeyng to thyne vngodlyneſſe, to haſten the tyme that commeth apace, which yf thou wouldeſt neuer ſo fayne, thou canſt by no meanes prolōg or defer: how much more were it for thy quietnes & honeſty, that he whole & ſound, thou drie and innocent, then that both of you blooddy, & thou ſhouldeſt depart hence hurtful and wicked?
Ioy.
I am muche prouoked to reuenge.
Reaſon.
Beware thou yeelde not, but ſet agaynſt this prouocation the remembraunce of ſuche men as haue been not only mercyfull vnto theyr enimies, but alſo fauourable and beneficiall: and on the contrary ſide, laye them before thine eyes, who hauyng hewed theyr enimies in peeces, and yet proceedyng
to farther outrage, haue wreaked theyr crueltie vpon ſenſeleſſe carkaſes. Then chooſe with thy ſelf whom thou haddeſt rather be lyke, and confer not only theyr deedes, but theyr woordes alſo: For there reſteth no ſmal part of crueltie in the woordes. Cruel is the foote, more cruel the hand, but of al, moſt cruel is the tongue. Many tymes that crueltie of the minde which the hand could not match, the tongue hath ſurpaſſed: As of crueltie, ſo of mercyfulneſſe, the tongue is the beſt wytneſſe. Therfore let that ſaying of Hadriane, of whom I made mention not long ſince, and alſo of Tiberius, ſound in thine eare: of whom it is written, that when he heard that one that was accuſed, called Carmilius, had preuented his owne death, he cried out aloud, ſaying, Carmilius hath eſcaped my handes. O cruel voyce, and if it may be ſo tearmed, more cruell then the aucthour of the voyce. What ordinarie puniſhment did he looke for at his handes, whom he eſcaped (being in priſon) by procuring his owne death with his owne handes? Beholde therfore two perſons of one calling, but of dyuers myndes, who vſed the ſelfe ſame worde, but in ſundry ſignifications. The one ſaid vnto his enimie that was preſent, Thou haſt eſcaped my handes: the other, of his enimie that was abſent, Thou haſt eſcaped my handes: The one pardoned his enimies lyfe, the other enuyed his enimies death. Chooſe whiche of theſe twayne thou wyll haue reported of thee, eyther the mercyfull ſaying of that good Prynce, or the blooddy voyce of that cruel butcher. And I am not ignorant, that it is an eaſyer matter to commaunde theſe thynges to be doone, then to do them, and I know alſo what may be obiected againſt them, to wyt, That it is an harder matter to be mylde in the iniuries that are offered to hym ſelfe, then to another: hard it is I confeſſe, but good. And thou thy ſelfe canſt not deny, but that euery vertue conſiſteth in that which is good & difficult: vnto them that loue vertue, al things are eaſie.
Ioy.
I am aſſuredly determined to be reuenged.
Reaſon.
The worſer part hath gotten the victory, withſtand it yet as long as thou canſt, and take away the conqueſt from it, before it begin to vſe it, and raiſe vp gentlenes that lyeth troden vnderfoote, remember that thou art a man: many haue repented them of their reuenge, but none of their mercy.
Ioy.
I am reuenged.
Reaſon.
It had ben better
for thee to haue been ouercome of thine enimie: wrath hath ouercome hym, that ouercame his enimie.
Of hope to VVinne. The .Cii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Hope for victorie in Warre.
Reaſon.
Hope in all thynges is deceytful, but in warre moſt deceytful of al: Nothing is done vpon premeditation, but all thinges at vnwares. Moſt ſkylfull and exerciſed in Martiall affayres was he that is reported to haue ſaid, that euentes are neuer leſſe anſwerable to expectation, then they are in warre.
Ioy.
I hope for victorie.
Reaſon.
It were better to haue peace, whiche is ſayd to haue been a memorable ſpeach of the ſame Captaynes, Aſſured peace is better and ſafer, then hoped victorie.
Ioy.
I ſhal be conquerer in battayle.
Reaſon.
What if thou be vanquiſhed? This hope hath haſtened many to deſtruction, without hope of victorie. No man goeth willingly into battaile.
Ioy.
I ſhal haue the vpper hand in battaile.
Reaſon.
That is a worde of the Future tenſe: For all hope is of that which is to come, and thinges to come are alwayes doubtful.
Ioy.
I ſhall returne conquerour out of battayle.
Reaſon.
O foolyſh hope of men, perhaps thou ſhalt returne, neither conquerour, nor conquered: but thou promiſeſt thy ſelfe returne, and a paſſage through thy fooes to be made by the edge of the ſwoorde.
Ioy.
I hope to be conquerour.
Reaſon.
There is one that hopeth the contrary, and therefore it muſt needes be that both of you, or one of you, be deceyued: For it may ſo chaunce, that one of the Captaynes, or both on eche ſide, kyll one another, whiche I thinke hath hapned often at other times, and once, whiche now I cal to remembraunce, at Thebes, in the laſt conflict betweene the wicked brethren: and likewyſe at Rome in the beginning after the expulſion of the kinges, it is written, the like euent chaunced, inſomuch as Brutus the Conſul, proſecuted the ſonne of the proude king vnto the graue. For when death commeth, there is no victorie, which being deferred, notwithſtanding thou knoweſt that ſome Armies haue departed out of the fielde at euen hande: And therefore it is euident, that both the Captaynes haue been defrauded of their hope of victorie. But that one of them is lyke to
be deceyued, it is ſo common a matter, and ſo dayly found true by experience, as to goe to the battayle: and how knoweſt thou whether thou art he that ſhalt be defrauded of the victorie, concerning which thou flattereſt thy ſelfe?
Ioy.
I ſhal haue the vpperhand in warre.
Reaſon.
As the victorie is alwayes doubtfull, ſo is it often greeuous and blooddy. It is not gotten freely, whiche is won by peryl of life: that is deerely bought, which is bought with blood, more deerely, whiche may coſt death: as the conquering part may looſe their Captayne, ſo although thy ſide ouercome, thou mayeſt be vanquiſhed. What ſhall I ſay of the wickedneſſe that followe victories? The vanquiſhed fall not into ſo many miſeries, as doo the vanquiſhers into vices? But if there be nothing more miſerable then ſinne and offences, then is not the vanquiſhed, in that he is vanquiſhed, more wretched then the vanquiſher, but in this reſpect leſſe wretched, in that he is ſubiect to fewer miſchiefes.
Ioy.
I ſhal vanquiſh.
Reaſon.
To make ſhort, whether thou ſhalt vanquiſh or not, or when thou haſt vanquiſhed, whether it wyl prooue more for thy commoditie, or otherwyſe, it is doubtfull.
Of Victorie. The .Ciii. Dialogue.
IOY.
BVT I haue gotten the Vpperhande.
Reaſon.
Beware leſt anger, pride, crueltie, rage, and madneſſe, get the vpper hand ouer thee. Theſe are the companions of victorie, and the inuiſible and horrible enimies of the victours, of whom oftentimes the moſt famous conquerours haue been moſt ſhamefully vanquiſhed. Fortune doth not yet call thee to accompt, there is betweene you a long and intricate reckoning, ſhe is an hard and wilful creditour, with whom now thou haſt great dealinges, and it is her maner to require that which ſhee hath lent, with great intereſt.
Ioy.
I haue gotten the vpper hand in a great battayle.
Reaſon.
He that hath gotten the vpper hand in a battayle, hath often been vanquiſhed in continuance of warre.
Ioy.
But I haue won.
Reaſon.
How often haue the Garthagiens, how often the Frenchmen, how often other nations had the better, and how often haue the Romans been put to the woorſt? But the
euentes of thinges are to be conſidered, ſpecially of ſuche as alter, and can not ſtand ſtyl.
Ioy.
Verily, I haue gotten the victorie.
Reaſon.
Although the end of warre were certayne, yet the euent is doubtful, and ſorowe followeth myrth, and myrth followeth ſorowe.
Ioy.
I haue gotten a great victorie.
Reaſon.
There is nothing ſo great, but may be diſtinguiſhed from that which is too much: find it hath ſo fallen out, that the winning ſide hath ben
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t
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ſhewe moſt woundes, and moſt dead carkaſes. It thou wilt no
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beleeue me, aſke Xerxes, and Thermopilae.
Ioy.
It was my chaunce to gayne a great victorie.
Reaſon.
A great victorie can not be gotten for a final price. Concerning the greateſt warre that euer was, whereof the greateſt Hiſtorician that euer was entreateth, Fortune, ſayth he, was ſo wariable, and the conflict was ſo doubtful, that they were moſt in daunger, that had the victorie.
Ioy.
I haue fully conquered.
Reaſon.
There is no complet victorie, where there remaineth an armed enimie? howbeit if thou ſuppreſſe one, other wyl riſe vp, and there be certayne conqueſtes, that may be tearmed the ſeede of warre: ſo hatred cut downe with a weapon, ryſeth vp more thicke then before, and ſouldiours returne with more courage into the fielde: not in ſuche ſort perhaps as ſomtime a ſtronge imagination brought vnto Caſſius the repreſentation of an enimie which he had ſlayne, euen the very ſame day that he dyed, with ſo hideous a countenaunce, that the very reſemblaunce of the dead man, put to flight that moſt valiant Captayne, that was not afearde of hym while he was alyue: but rather ſo, that many beyng reſtored for one, with aſſured handes, doo beare aſſured weapons, agaynſt thoſe that ſeemed to haue had the victorie.
Ioy.
I haue gotten the victorie, and now am I careleſſe without an enimie.
Reaſon.
Thou foole, as long as there ſhalbe men, ſo long there ſhalbe enimies. Thou readeſt how that after ſo many triumphes, & conquering of the whole world, the citie of Rome wanted not enimies: & hopeſt thou then to be without? Perhaps if thou be quiet, thou mayeſt want foes, but neuer if thou fight.
Ioy.
I am a conquerour.
Reaſon.
Take heede thou be not ſo in vayne: victorie is profitable for them that knowe how to vſe it, to vſe it, I ſay, not as Maharbal gaue counſayle to Hanibal, but as Hanno that was a better
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man gaue counſayle to his Common wealth. For truely Peace is the beſt vſe and fruite of victorie, neyther are iuſt warres taken in hande for any other ende, then for peace.
Ioy.
Victorie is on my ſyde.
Reaſon.
Beware ſhe flee not away, for ſhe hath winges.
Of the death of an Enimie. The .Ciiii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I AM glad of myne Enimies death.
Reaſon.
To hope for any thing by the death of an enimie, and to reioyce in any mans death, perhaps is permitted to hym that is immortal, yf any ſuche may be founde: but to hope for the death of another man, whiche may fyrſt happen to thy ſelfe, or to reioyce that that is befallen to thyne Enimie, whiche needes muſt happen to thy ſelfe, is a foolyſhe hope, and a vayne ioy.
Ioy.
I reioyce in myne Enimies death.
Reaſon.
Some other ere it be long wyll reioyce in thine.
Ioy.
I am glad that mine Enimie is dead.
Reaſon.
If ye were mindful of your owne eſtate, one man would neuer reioyce in the death of another. When, I pray thee, was it euer ſeene, that when two went togeather to execution, the one conceiued any pleaſure in the others death, knowing that himſelfe muſt goe to the ſame pot: but doth not rather lament, beholding his owne death in his fellowe?
Ioy.
I haue conceyued delyght in mine Enimies death.
Reaſon.
How often thinkeſt thou, haue mens deathes that haue been deſired, greeued the deſirers, and they haue in vayne begun to wiſhe for their liues, who before wyſhed not in vayne for their deathes, when as they begin once to vnderſtand that they haue wiſhed to their owne deſtructiō? But your affections are haſtie. Whatſoeuer ye wiſhe to haue, ye wiſh it vehemently, as it is written, Iulius Caeſar ſayde of Marcus Brutus, Yea, rather ye wyſhe it too muche, and your earneſt deſyre can ſuffer no tariaunce.
And therefore whatſoeuer ye woulde haue, ye wyll haue it preſently, whereof proceede not onely vngodly wyſhes, but alſo poyſonynges, and murthers, and whatſoeuer one man can imagine againſt another,
beyng the moſt hurtfull creature towarde his owne kinde▪ Ye wyſh for many thynges, whiche yf ye tooke aduiſe of reaſon, ye would ſtand in feare of, when they are accompliſhed, and the varieue of your wiſhes, is an argument of your euyl choyce: neyther doeth your raſhneſſe returne to that whiche is right, vntyll your
••
olythe affections are checked with hapleſſe ſucceſſe.
Ioy.
I am glad of mine enimies death.
Reaſon.
If thine enimie were but of ſmal fame and reputation, to reioyce in his death is ſhameful, and to be ſorie, ſuperfluous: but yf he were noble and famous, it is meete and decent to be ſorie, though not for the man, yet for vertues ſake, whiche euery day hath fewer places to harbour in. Sodyd Metellus Macedonicus bewayle the death of the younger Scipio Africane, and Caeſar the death of Pompe
•
, and Alexander the death of Darius.
Ioy.
I recioyce in the death of my Foe.
Reaſon.
How canſt thou reioyce in his death, whom thou art commaunded to loue, not as thine enimie, but as thy neighboure, being the worke of the ſame woorkeman?
Ioy.
I am gladde of myne enimies death.
Reaſon.
Perhaps thou heareſt not, or regardeſt not the moſt holſome and knowen counſel of the Wyſe man, Reioyce not, ſayth he, in the death of thine enimie, knowyng that we ſhall all dye: And wyl we notwithſtandyng be glad? Doubtleſſe this counſayle or precept is holſome.
Of hope of Peace. The .Cv. Dialogue.
HOPE.
I Hope for Peace.
Reaſon.
It is better to keepe peace, then to hope for it. It is the part of a foole, to neglect thynges certayne, and to embrace doubtfull hope.
Hope.
I hope for peace.
Reaſon.
Thou ſhouldeſt haue kept her more narrowly, neyther ſuffered her to depart, whom thou now hopeſt for. What yf thine impatience haue brought thee vnto this Hope, that thou myghteſt chooſe to be vexed with hoping, for that whiche thou myghteſt haue vſed by enioying?
Hope.
I hope for peace.
Reaſon.
Hope of peace hath deſtroyed many, and calamitie vnlooked for, followyng hoped peace, hath ouercome
and oppreſſed the vnſkilfull & ſleepy, whom it could not haue harmed, if it had found expert.
Hope.
I hope for peace.
Reaſon.
Why doeſt thou hope ſo long for that, whiche is in thy hand to attayne vnto? It is ſeldome ſeene but they do finde peace, that are in deede willing effectually to ſeeke it: but thoſe to whom the name of peace is ſweete, peace it ſelfe is ſowre, and therefore they that ſeeke for peace, withſtand peace. Peace hath foure enimies dwelling among you, to wit, couetouſneſſe, enuie, anger, pride: theſe if you ſende away into euerlaſting exile, your peace ſhalbe euerlaſting.
Hope.
I am in aſſured hope of peace.
Reaſon.
Betweene hope of peace, & peace it ſelfe, many thinges do happen: a light worde, and a ſmal geſture, hath many times diſturbed compounded peace, yea the very treaties and parlees of peace are often broken of by dent of ſwoord, and hope of peace ſharpneth the mindes, and aggrauateth warres: euen ſo may a man tearme the treatie of friendſhip which commeth to none effect, the whetſtone and ſharpning of hatred.
Hope.
There is talke of peace, & there ſhalbe peace.
Reaſon.
There is often talke of peace to no purpoſe: many times dangerouſly haue the captaines of the Frenchmen and Carthagiens entreated of peace, when as Camillus ſurpriſed the one, and Scipio the other.
Hope.
After warre is ended, peace ſhal be confirmed.
Reaſon.
How muche better were it, that it were confirmed before the beginning of war? how many miſchiefes and loſſe of mens liues might be by ſeaſonable peace preuented? But you, like wilful and truently children, can neuer learne wiſedome without whipping: In peace, ye ſeeke after warre, and in warre, ye ſeeke after peace, and neuer begin to know or loue peace, but when ye are afflicted with warre, & then as ye lament that ye haue loſt peace, ſo anon when it is reſtored vnto you, with like lightneſſe ye contemne it, vntyll that hauing loſt it once or twice, ye are taught not to contemne your owne commodities, and to couet your owne harmes, finally, not to be mad, nor foolyſh, whereof ye may be aſhamed before ye haue obtayned it. Ye muſt haue one thing tolde you often, and it ſuffiſeth not to haue heard, but ye muſt often ſee and trye: I wyll ſpeake more playnely, ye muſt be beaten often, before you can learne any thing.
Hope.
Peace wil follow warre.
Reaſon.
It had ben
better it had gone before, and ſtopped the courſe of warre: there is no ſuch madneſſe, as in hope of remedy, willingly to receyue a wounde: Formentations are helpes, and not cauſes of woundes. It is naturall for hym that is ſicke to wyſhe for health, but for one that is whole to wyſh for ſicknes, in hope of health, is madneſſe.
Hope.
We ſhal haue peace.
Reaſon.
Peace many times procureth hurtful alterations to Cities & Countreis, which although of it ſelfe it be an excellent good thing, yet is it accompanied with very euyl companions, vniuſt lawes, laſciuious maners, ſecret hatred, open tyrannie. Remember what ſometime in the ciuile wars that Prognoſticatour foreſayde, and was not deceyued, What auayleth it to pray to the Goddes for peace? This peace commeth with the owner thereof. But warlyke libertie, is more acceptable to valient men, then peaceable ſeruitude.
Hope.
I haue peace.
Reaſon.
In the meane whyle thou haſt warre alſo.
Of peace and truice. The .Cvi. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue Peace.
Reaſon.
An excellent good thing, if it were ſincere and perpetual, but truely it is neither: For it is no new thing, but too common and dayly accuſtomable, that warre lurketh vnder the couert of peace, and though the peace were pure, yet the inſtabilitie of mindes wyll not ſuffer it to continue long, which contende euery day among them ſelues, no leſſe then with an enimie.
Ioy.
I haue obtayned peace.
Reaſon.
But warineſſe and warlike diſcipline are loſt, and aſſured preſeruation of cities: but thou haſt gotten idle ſlouthfulneſſe, and continual dangerous ſecuritie, ſince in moſt reſpectes peace is better then war, but in this one reſpect, war is better then peace, in that it is more warie, and full of experience. The Romane proweſſe had neuer decayed, yf the Carthagien warre had continued. The peace with the Carthagiens, was the deſtruction of the Citie of Rome, and an euerlaſtyng document to all other Cities, to ſhewe that peace is not alwayes beſt for Nations and Empires: that whiche good Naſica wyll ſweare to be ſo, in that it was committed ſometyme to his charge, and all the learned wyll confeſſe that he ſayeth true.
Ioy.
I haue
peace.
Reaſon.
Vſe
〈◊〉
modeſtly. Proude and negligent peace, is more hurtful then any warre. Many that haue been in armes, haue been ſafe among weapons, but ſo ſoone as they haue been in peace, they haue fallen among weapons, and too late haue wiſhed for warre. What ſhal I ſpeake of the ruine of Manners, and the vtter ouerthrowe of Humanit
••
it ſelfe? How many that haue been very good men in warre, haue by peace become very euyll, as though laying downe all vertue with their armour, they had put on all vices with their gowne? Thus hath the inwarde affection been changed with the outwarde apparrell. In confirmation whereof, although many thouſande men might be brought to witneſſe, yet two onely ſhal ſuffiſe vs, to wit, Sylla and Marius: of whom, the firſt, as it is written of hym, no man is able ſufficiently to prayſe or diſprayſe: for whyle he ſought a
•••
r conqueſtes, he ſhewed him ſelfe to the people of R
••••
to be S
••
pio, but while he exerciſed crueltie, he repreſented hym ſel
••
to b
•
Hannibal. The ſeconde, was a man; as it is alſo written of hym, whoſe vertues yf they be conferred with his vices, it is hard to ſay whether he were more valiant in warre, then peſtilent in peace: inſomuche as the ſame Common wealth whiche he preſerued beyng in armes, ſo ſoone as he put on his Gowne and was in peace, he defiled with all kynde of tretcherie, and laſtly, ouerthrewe lyke an enimie with forcible Armes.
Ioy.
I reioyce, in that my Countrey is in peace.
Reaſon.
What yf peace ſome tyme extinguiſhe that whiche is beſt in a man, and nouryſh that whiche is worſt? Well knowen is the ſaying of the Satyrical Poet, who when he had ſayd muche concernyng the cauſes of the auncient Romane vertue and valiencie, among whiche is, and Hannibal neare to the Citie, at the laſt he inferreth, But now wee feele the diſcommodities of long peace. Wantonneſſe and riot more cruell then Armes, doo vrge and take reuenge vppon the conquered Citie. Is there any peace, I pray thee, ſo muche to be eſteemed of, that is no odious to excellent perſonages, yf it be accompanied with ſenſualitie and riotouſneſſe? Truely vnto hym that ſhall deepely conſyder of the matter, though armes be layde downe, yet can it not ſeeme peace, where the mindes are oppugned with domeſtical and moſt ſubtyl warre, that wanteth
〈…〉
good maners are exiled, pleaſures
beare rule, and vertues are troden vnder foote.
Ioy.
The peace is aſſured.
Reaſon.
And ſo, as I haue ſayde, are the companions of peace, libertie, & licentiouſneſſe, with dan gers no leſſe in qualitie, or quantitie, then are in warre: Theſe bryng deſtruction vnto the body, the other vnto the ſoule, and many times vnto the body alſo. And therefore vnto many, the breſtplate hath been more fortunate then the gowne, & the fielde more ſafe then the chamber, and the Trumpet then the Pype, and the Sun then the ſhadowe. There hath ben ſome that were neuer in more ſafetie then in the warres, as thou haſt hearde Iulius Caeſar report, concernyng hym ſelfe and his ſouldyers: as for peace, yf it woulde come without vices, I confeſſe it is an heauenly gyft, and ſuche a good thyng as is inferiour to none: but it ſeldome commeth without vices.
Ioy.
But I haue taken a truice.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt geuen thyne enimie reſpite to recouer his force, that he may ſtrike more ſtrongly then thou.
Ioy.
I haue truice.
Reaſon.
Truice is coſen germane to treaſon: Thou ſeeſt that through ſubtiltie many things are doone by the enimie, but thou readeſt of many moe: ſo that the policies of warre are neuer better executed, ayde neuer more freely ſought for, yea, truice hath made many inuincible in warre.
IOY.
I haue taken truice with myne enimies.
Reaſon.
A loytryng tyme, neyther meery with peace, neyther exerciſed in warre, but doubtfully waueryng betweene both, where pride hyndereth peace, and feare detracteth warre: and I knowe not whether it be more hurtful ſo to continue, or other wyſe to fall: For, to deſyre a time of breathyng, is the part of one that is weery, and the part of a wretched and madde man, to be able to abyde neither peace nor warre.
Of the Popedome. The .Cvii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Haue atteined to ye Popedome.
Reaſon.
Men vſe commonly to flye out of a tempeſt into the Hauen, but thou wyllingly theſt out of the Hauen into a tempeſt: thou art a woonderfull marriner.
Ioy.
I haue
••
ten the Popedome.
Reaſon.
A
rare matter, I wyl not ſay difficult: Dyd the care ouer one ſoule ſeeme ſo litle grieuous vnto thee, but that thou muſt take the charge & burden of al vpon thee: Thy ſhoulders are ſtrōg, or thine ambition is great, ſo far to pricke thee foorth where thou knoweſt thou ſhalt be in euyl caſe.
Ioy.
I am aſcended to the Popedome.
Reaſon.
By what meaues ſee thou. For there are two wayes, both tendyng vnto trauaile, but the one leadyng vnto miſerie. Whichſoeuer of theſe thou followeſt, knowe that thou art in miſerie: or, yf the beſt happen, that of a freeman thou art become a bondſlaue. So thou that art ſayde to haue aſcended, art fallen downe, beyng nowe become one of thoſe to whom is ſong that ſaying of the Prophete: They that goe downe into the Sea in ſhyppes, hauing buſyneſſe vpon many waters: they that aſcende vp into heauen, and deſcende downe to Hell, whoſe ſoule languiſhyng within them by reaſon of the greatneſſe and abundance of the ſtorme, is troubled, and they ſtagger lyke a drunken man, and al theyr wyſedome is conſumed.
Ioy.
I am aſcended into the ſeate of the hygh popedome.
Reaſon.
The deeper the ſea is, the more it is ſubiect to wyndes, and dangerous for tempeſtes.
Ioy.
I am made Pope of Rome.
Reaſon.
Looke howe muche Rome is bygger then other Cities, ſo much more toyle remayneth for thee. Some wyll houour thee, ſome adore thee, ſome attende and ſtand about thee, ſome lay ſylken couerlets vnder thy feete, harneyes thy whyte Steedes with golde, prepare thee wyne and banquettes, and taſte them vnto thee, whiche is ſuche a kynde of ſeruice as the auncient Popes neuer hearde of. Contrarywyſe, ſome wyl let theyr owne buſyneſſe alone, and faſten theyr eyes vpon thee, thee wyl they note, of thee wyll they iudge, but how iuſtly GOD knoweth, ſome alſo wyll reprooue thy manners, wreſt thy woordes, teare thy fame, carpe thy lyfe, and whatſoeuer is any where done amiſſe, men wyl ſay it proceedeth from thee, as the only cauſe and fountaine of euil, and thou ſhalt be called the beginner of all diſcordes and miſchiefes among the people: How, wyl they ſay, can the body of the church be whole, when the head is ſick & yll at eaſe? I pray thee, is eyther a golden eup, or a ſilken bed, or a mitred head, ſo much to be eſtemed, that it ſhoulde be purchaſed with the loſſe of quietneſſe & a good name?
Ioy.
I am choſen Pope.
Reaſon.
Gouerne thy ſelfe in this tallyng as wel as thou canſt, which is ſo greatly eſteemed at this day, which truely is altogether vayne or intollerable, inſomuche that not without cauſe certayne popes beyng ouerweeryed with tediouſneſſe, haue wyſhed to theyr enimies none other punyſhment then that felicitie. For to ſpeake in fewe woordes, the popedome if it be rightly adminiſtred, is a great honour, a great burden, a great ſeruitude, a great labour: But yf it be yl gouerned, it is a great danger to the ſoule, a great euyll, a great miſery, a great ſhame, and in al reſpectes a buſineſſe full of peryl.
Ioy.
I holde nowe the ſeate of the popedome.
Reaſon.
Thou ſhalt not holde it long. Mans lyfe is ſhort, Kynges lyues ſhorter, and Popes lyues ſhorteſt of all, for that by reaſon of the greatnes of the cares and charge, the olde daies of the Pope are ſhortened, which are alredy weerled and worne before he attayne to that dignitie.
Ioy.
I ſyt in the top of the Popes ſeate.
Reaſon.
The hygher thou ſytteſt, the greater is the fall, and men can ſcarcely come downe from an hygh place without danger, or labour. Take heede thou diſcende ſoberly, leaſt thou be founde to be one of thoſe, of whom it is ſayd, They are lyfted vp on high, to the end their fal may be the greater. There is no man doubteth but that men muſt deſcend from almortall aduancement, but this is the difference, in that iuſt and wyſe men do deſcende, and al other fall downe headlong. And therefore the Carthagien Captayne, who as it is reported of hym, ſayde when he was dyeing, The end of all that are aduaunced, is to fall downe, ſpake not improperly, as an vniuſt man.
Ioy.
I gouerne the ſtate of the Popedome.
Reaſon.
The fyrſt Popes were woont to be called from that ſtate to the honour of Martyrdome, but nowe a dayes they thynke that they are called to all kynde of pleaſures and delicacie, and for that cauſe men ſtriue nowe for this place, and euery man coueteth that preferment. For who is he that ſueth or wyſheth to be Pope of Rome, or Byſhop of any other place, but only for encreaſe of power and ryches: Contrary to the precept of iuſtice, men ſeeke to gouerne, not to profite, and that moreouer which is ſacrilegious and ſhameful to be ſpoken, fat Benifices, & great Eccleſiaſtical
prefermentes are bought with great rewardes, yea they be bargayned for, and promiſed before they fal. O moſt vyle exchaunge of manners, in that men cannot be drawen from that, vnto whiche in olde tyme they were wont, and alſo ought to be enforced. And furious ambition is now ſo hot, that it ſeemeth to exceede the boundes of chriſtian ſhamefaſtneſſe and modeſtie, but rather, to be an Heathen deſire and wylfulneſſe: Whom, I meane the Heathen, we haue hearde ſay to haue been ſo earneſt that way in theyr petitions and ſuites, that it is read how that Iulius Caeſar ſued for the hygh Byſhops or Prelates office, not without moſte large and laſciuious expence of money, wherein recountyng the greatneſſe of his debt when in the mornyng he went foorth to the election, he kyſſed his mother, ſaying that he woulde neuer more returne home, vnleſſe he were hygh Byſhop: And he kept promiſe, for he returned hygh Byſhop in deede. It appeareth with what vehemencie (not requeſt) he laboured for that preferment, inſomuche that he determined to wyn it, or els to dye for it, or to goe into exyle: whiche he myght doo both lawfully, who in his youth had purpoſed vnto hym ſelfe to raigne: ſo that he thinketh hym ſelfe iniured, yt there be any other gouernour in the world but Caeſar▪
or any land that belongeth to twayne. But how it may be lawful for a Chriſtian to ſue for the popedome, that hath propoſed to hym to ſerue and beare the yoke of his lorde, I do not perceiue, and to ſue for it, not onely by moſt laniſh prodigalitie, but alſo, that is not much leſſe vile, by flatterie & lyes, which are aries vnmeete for men, but ſo common and vſual now a dayes, that theſe are onely the meanes to come to preferment.
Ioy.
I am pope of Rome.
Reaſon.
Thou ſhouldeſt ſay ſeruant of ſeruantes: Take heede thou couet not to be Lorde of Lordes. Remember thy profeſſion, remember thy duetie, remember thy Lorde, who wylbe wrath with none more for tranſgreſſing of duetie, then with him that preſumeth to be called his owne Vicar.
Of happineſſe. The .Cviii. Dialogue.
IOY.
I Am happy.
Reaſon.
Thou thinkeſt to be made happy eyther by the popedome, or empire, or by ſome other kind of power,
and alſo by ryches: thou art deceyued, theſe things make not a man happy or wretched, but they diſcloſe and diſcouer him, and yf they made hym any of the twayne, they woulde make hym rather wretched then happy, for they be ful of dangers, whiche are the rootes of humane miſeries.
Ioy.
I am happy.
Reaſon.
O wretch, that thynkeſt thy ſelfe happy in ſo many miſeries?
Ioy.
I am happy.
Reaſon.
Perhaps in thyne opinion, which becauſe it is falſe, it addeth nothyng vnto felicitie, but much vnto miſery. For, for a man not to know his howne miſery, is the greateſt miſerie of all.
Ioy.
I am happy.
Reaſon.
So much dyd Pompeius the great vaunt of hym ſelfe among the ſwoordes of the ſlaughter men, which notwithſtandyng yf it be deepely examined, he neuer was, no not when he was moſt happy in his moſt flooriſhing ſtate.
Ioy.
I am happy.
Reaſon.
Thou art happie, and a ſtrange wayfaring man, a woonderfull runner, which in this ſtonye and difficult path art happy, being toſſed among ſo manie thouſand dangers, not knowing wherin thou art heere happy, which as I ſuppoſe neuer any man was, nor neuer ſhalbe: for who was euer happy in miſerie? Therfore, there is none happy before he paſſe out of this vale of miſerie. Among al the men in the world, there are twayne counted happy, of whiche the moſt eſpeciall is Quintus Metellus, both by writers and common report reputed happy. Neuertheleſſe, although the name of happyneſſe be very large and amply taken, I knowe it is taken from hym by certayne preciſe wryters, by reaſon of moſt grieuous iniuries whiche he ſuſteyned, and to encreaſe the griefe, at the handes of a vyle perſon. Nowe the falſe felicitie of other is euydent. Scilla was only called happie, notwithſtandyng, the haynouſneſſe of his lyfe & death, do prooue that he was vnfortunate. Although Alexander of Macedonie, and Iulius Caeſar, had moſt proſperous fortune, yet theyr lyues were euer vnquiet and troubleſome, and therefore were not happy, for they both had violent deathes: the one in middle courſe of his warres, the other after his conqueſt ſodaynly: the one periſhed by poyſon, the other by weapon. The Martiall felicitie of the Scipioes, in the one, is by his vnwoorthy exile, in the other, by his ſhameful and vnreuenged death, diminiſhed. It
were ouerlong to recount euery ones fortune, and therefore I come to the laſt. Only Auguſtus the Emperour ſeemed almoſt vnto al men to be happy, both for the excellency of his Monarchie, continuance of peace, length of his lyfe, and pleaſant ende thereof, and which exceedeth all, perpetual tranquilitie of minde and manners: who wyl deny that he was moſt happy? But they that haue applyed themſelues to ſearche after the trueth, wyll not graunt that he was happy. For the inwarde ſtate of his domeſticall lyfe, hyndred his outward glory, and the change of his fortune, much altered his want of natural and Male iſſue, the vntymely death of his Adoptyues and Nephues, and the vntowardneſſe of ſome of them more woorſe then death: Moreouer, the treaſon and ſecrete practiſes of certayne moſt vyle perſons, and often conſpiracies of his owne kynſfolke agaynſt hym, the common whoredomes of his moſt dearely beloued and only daughter, & Neece: finally, an heyre that was none of his owne, and a ſucceſſour that he lyked not of, whom he choſe rather of neceſſitie then of iudgement, beyng vnworthy of ſuch an Emperour and Empire. If then none of theſe were happy, eyther ſhew me ſome other happy man, with whom thou mayeſt be happy, or els be thou happy alone, or els at length encline thine eare to the truer opinion, accordyng to the purport wherof I ſay agayne, that there is no man happy before his death.
Ioy.
I am happy in minde.
Reaſon.
I know what felicitie thou meaneſt: eyther therefore thou art happy in thyne owne errour, as one ſayth, which happineſſe, as I haue ſayde, is miſery, or els by the vertue of thy mynde, which is no perfect felicitie, although it be the way vnto it. Laſt of all, when I examine euery thyng with my ſelfe, I cannot deny, but that I am enforced to woonder what maner of felicitie it ſhoulde be whiche ſome doo dreame of and promyſe vnto others, being in many other matters very ſharpe and wyſe, but in this, moſt blynde. For whether that there be required vnto felicitie an heape of all honoures, and thoſe neuer to fayle, but to continue permanent, and howe many thynges are wantyng to a man that foloweth this trade of lyfe, euery one can iudge in hym ſelfe, knowyng thoſe things which he hath, how vncertayne and tranſitorie they be, or whether, as other
ſuppoſe, the ſame be accomplyſhed in vertue: truely they that gouerne them ſelues accordyng to vertue, whom theſe men account happy, and whom I alſo confeſſe to come neereſt to felicitie, endure continually moſt cruel conflictes of temptations within them ſelues, lying alwaies open vnto many and grieuous perils, & are neuer in ſecuritie before theyr death: which whether they know, or know not, they are alyke to be reputed wretched. For there is no felicitie with errour, and none without ſecuritie.
Ioy.
I ſeeme vnto my ſelfe to be happy.
Reaſon.
Thou haft alredy an anſwere: for yf errour coulde make a man happy, moſt men ſhoulde be happy: therfore thy felicitie is falſe, and very ſhort. It neuer happened vnto any to reioyce long in an errour, trueth only is ſounde and ſubſtancial. As for errour, it is a ſlender and vayne thyng, whiche betweene the handes of them that embrace it, fadeth away as a ſmoke or ſhadowe. But a time wyl come, which ſhal dryue away ſhadowes, and diſcouer falſe ioyes, and bryng them to lyght, and make humane felicitie to be diſcerned from dreames. And therfore, make enquiry of al theſe men of whom I laſt made mention, which of them ſeemed happy to them ſelues or to other: and lykewyſe where they be now, and in what ſtate they remaine, what alſo they thinke of that their ſhort felicitie? though them ſelues holde theyr peace, the trueth wyll ſpeake, and beare witneſſe that they that were accounted happy, were in deede moſt wretched.
Of good Hope. The .Cix. Dialogue.
Hope.
HOwe ſoeuer the worlde goeth, no man ſhal take hope fromme.
Reaſon.
In deede no man is able to take it from thee, but ſhe wyll take away her ſelfe by litle and litle, and waſteth away, beyng often deluded with vnlooked for euentes.
Hope.
I hope for many thinges.
Reaſon.
Thou muſt needes alſo ſtande in feare of many thinges: for hope dwelleth no where without feare.
Hope.
I hope for ſome good.
Reaſon.
Then thou feareſt ſome euil: for as hope is oppoſite to feare, ſo dooth it ſpring out
of a contrary fountayne, and it muſt needes be, that looke what thou beginneſt to hope for, the contrary thou muſt (as neceſſarily) feare.
Hope.
I hope for proſperous thinges.
Reaſon.
But yet vncertaine, in hope wherof to neglect the things that thou art aſſured of, is aſſured madneſſe: for he that hopeth for that which he hath not, forgetteth that which he hath.
Hope.
I am not forbidden to hope for the better.
Reaſon.
What if thou hope for difficult & impoſſible matters, & that wil neuer come to paſſe? What if thoſe things which thou hopeſt for are bad, yea very euil, & thou imagineſt them to be better then they are?
Hope.
I delight to liue in hope.
Reaſon.
Say more truely, to die in hope: for whyle men thinke vpon future things, the preſent paſſe away, & they that loke a far of, ſee not what is vnder their eyes, & they that hope to liue to morow, liue not to day: for that is not yet come, whoſe beginning is hoped for. So then, foraſmuch as al hope, is ye loking for a good thing that is abſent, it followeth, that he that hopeth, in that reſpect that he hopeth, ſuffreth ſome euyl.
Hope.
It is a ſweete thing to hope.
Reaſon.
Truely, I heare many ſay ſo, but I can perceyue no ſweeteneſſe in it. For if it be ſweete to hope, it is alſo ſweete to lacke that which a man would haue, which who ſo wyll affirme to be true, doubtleſſe he wanteth the ſenſe of taſte.
Hope.
It is pleaſant to hope.
Reaſon.
Then to hang in doubt, to be affected, & vexed, is hope, & of long puniſhment, there is long hope: nothing ſo much weerieth the mind, nothing ſo much haſteneth old age. And therfore the wiſe man often tearmeth loſt hope, vantage, and reioyceth that he was deliuered from infinite deſires and expectations of vayne thinges, whereby he was enforced to take delight in his owne good thinges.
Hope.
Let fortune looke to the euent, as for me, I reioyce in hope.
Reaſon.
Take heede, leſt hereafter thou be ſory in the thing it ſelfe, and it repent thee, that euer thou wiſhedſt or hopedſt, or enioyedſt thine hope. Many whom hope long tormented while they lyued in doubt, when it came to effect which they hoped, were vtterly ouerthrowen: many haue periſhed with the wiſhed ſucceſſes of their long hope, whiche were very tedious, but not late enough.
Hope.
None ſhal take hope from me.
Reaſon.
None ſhal take frō thee weriſomneſſe & trouble of mind: thou haſt heard the old prouerbe,
It is a great payne to looke or hope for any thyng.
Hope.
The hopyng or lookyng for a good thyng is pleaſant.
Reaſon.
But it is deceitful, and doubtful, and troubleſome. If thou deny this, thou neuer hopedſt for any thyng: But the company is ineſtimable of thoſe that deceiue them ſelues, vnto whom whatſoeuer offereth it ſelfe, there is nothyng without ſome effect towards that they haue in hand, they refuſe nothyng, they deny them ſelues to none, they are eaſily turned, and quicke to geue credite. I may ſay that it were a great argument of lightneſſe and folly to embrace euery hope that a man ſhal meete withall, and immediatly to repoſe hym ſelfe thereon as an aſſured good, wherevnto all men of learnyng and experience are but ſlowe.
Hope.
In the meane whyle, I haue a good hope.
Reaſon.
In the meane whyle thou ſayeſt, which wylbe vnto ſuch tyme as it hath deceyned thee. For this is your cuſtome, ye caſt of hope agaynſt your wyl, and neuer forſake it, vntyll it forſake you: Yea, many times when it forſaketh you, it is ſtrange to ſay, howe agayne and agayne ye wyllyngly embrace it, when it returneth: and gooyng foorth to meete it, aſſoone as ye haue layde holde on it, ye forget how before it deceyued you, and retayne it agayne furniſhed with newe craftes, and lay it vp in the ſecrete cloſure of your hartes.
Hope.
I wyl not forſake my good hope vnto the laſt.
Reaſon.
What yf it forſake thee long before? Wylt thou call it backe, or folowe it, or carry tyll it returne? But goe to, hope a Gods name, ſince there is nothyng more pleaſant vnto thee then to be deceiued. It is not my meanyng to plucke thy hope from thee, whiche ſo earneſtly thou enterteyneſt, only I admonyſhe thee this much, that it is no good hope which thou ſuppoſeſt: It is no good hope that propoſeth good to it ſelfe, but that purpoſeth well. The moſte wycked perſons may, yea, and commonly do, hope for that which is good: and therefore that is good hope in deede, whiche is ryghtly conceyued of the true good: he that hath this hope, let hym holde it faſt, and not let her depart from hym in the ende, but ioyne her other ſiſters vnto her, to witte, fayth and charitie. This hope is pleaſant, ſweete, true, and happy, which neyther fayleth nor confoundeth him that hopeth, but aduanceth hym vnto that which is beſt, & in the meane while maketh
the minde cheereful, with the remembraunce of the good that is hoped for. But you, as hopyng for the true good, which ye haue yll deſerued, or callyng euyll thynges by the name of good, are in concluſion deceyued: and therefore your expectation is ſorowfull before it come, and more ſorowfull when it is come.
Hope.
Myne vnderſtandyng is humane, and I ſpeake of thoſe thynges which men cal good.
Reaſon.
Heretofore there hath been long contention among the learned, about this name: which doth yet continue, and wyl doo for euer, to the worldes ende, ſome makyng but one good thing, and contrariwyſe other ſome many.
Hope.
Let vs leaue theſe matters to the Philoſophers, as for mee, I hope for thoſe thynges, whiche the common people call good.
Reaſon.
Thou hopeſt then for thine owne euyl, which eyther wyll vexe thee with deferryng, or ouerpreſſe thee with the deſired burden. Admit that al thynges goe well with thee apparteining to the body, & that thou haſt prepared power againſt thine enimie, and as touchyng Fortune, that thou haſt borne the yoke of an vnconſtant and vnmilde Ladye, and that many of theſe thynges may be conuerted to the affliction and deſtruction of the minde, foraſmuche as the thynges that delyght the minde, doo oftentymes hurt it.
Hope.
I haue caſt the anker of good hope, and I wyll not remooue.
Reaſon.
But Saylers vſe many tymes when a tempeſt ryſeth to cut their Cable, and looſe theyr Anker, if they can not weigh him vp, and to depart without him: for it hapneth not alwayes ſo, as in the calmeneſſe of the Sea, we reade in the poet, The Anker helde faſt the Shyppes, with an aſſured tooth: ſo lykewyſe, in great troubles and raginges of the Sea, wherein the Anker doth not holde them faſt, but rather ſtayeth them; and endangereth them often with caſtyng away, none otherwyſe verily in the ſtormes and tempeſtes of worldly affayres, ſetled and tough hope hath drawen many into deſtruction, who yf they had cut of, and caſte away theyr hope, might haue ſafely eſcaped Therefore, the Anker of hope muſt be oftentymes weighed vp, or yf it holde too harde, be broken of. And yf that can not be, it muſt euen be quite cut away, and left behinde vnder the waters and flooddes of affayres, to the ende thou mayeſt ſafely conueyth the free barke of thy lyfe, through the direction of foreſyght,
into the hauen of ſafetie.
Hope.
I hope wel.
Reaſon.
In well hopyng, and yll hauyng, mans lyfe paſſeth away.
Of expectation of Inheritaunce. The .Cx. Dialogue.
HOPE.
I Looke for the inheritaunce of an olde man, that hath no chyldren.
Reaſon.
Thou ſaydſt erwhyle, that thou waſt in quiet, take heede thou be not found contrary to thy ſelfe: for hopyng or lookyng for any commoditie & quietneſſe of minde, can neuer dwell togeather: there is no loathſomneſſe in this life more greeuous then this expectation.
Hope.
I expect the inheritaunce of an olde man.
Reaſon.
But thou knoweſt not what he alſo expecteth: for this is a general madneſſe among men, that almoſt euery man hopeth, not onely to lyue longer then thoſe that are of his owne yeeres, but alſo that are younger. Men are vnwilling to thynke on their owne death, but gladly on other mens, when as in deede it were more profitable for them to doo the contrarie.
Hope.
I hope for an olde mans inheritaunce.
Reaſon.
How if he alſo hope for thyne? One of you muſt needes be deceyued. How many olde men may there be found, that looke for the death of young men: And truely, there is none ſo olde, but he may lyue one yeere longer: and none ſo young, but he may dye to day.
Hope.
I hope for the inheritaunce of a chyldleſſe olde man.
Reaſon.
Thy ſonne may better hope for it. A more likely hope hath deceyued a younger.
Hope.
The inheritaunce of a childleſſe olde man ſhal fal vnto me.
Reaſon.
How knoweſt thou, whether thyne ſhall fall vnto hym? Claudius ſucceeded Caius, and Galba Nero, and Nerua Domitian, and Pertinax Commodus, and the lyfe of a man is ful of ſuche ſucceſſions.
Hope.
I tarie for the inheritaunce of a childleſſe olde man.
Reaſon.
Whom cannot he deceyue, of them that are willing to be deceyned, that hath deceiued him, whom he woulde not willingly haue deceiued? Whom may not he ſuruine, that hath ſuruiued his owne ſonne?
Hope.
A childleſſe olde man hath alredy in writing appoynted me his heyre.
Reaſon.
Hath he engrauen it in tables of Diamond, from whence thou canſt not be blotted out? Dooeſt thou not knowe vpon howe light occaſions olde
men do alter their wylles? Many haue miſlyked of that, at the very ende of theyr lyues, whiche before they lyked well of all theyr lyfe tyme.
Hope.
A chyldleſſe olde man wyll haue me be his heyre.
Reaſon.
But it may chaunce, that hereafter he wyl not: For, there is nothyng that a riche chyldleſſe olde man taketh in worſe part, then to ſee his goodes loued, and him ſelfe not regarded: for then al is marred.
Hope.
I am promiſed the inheritaunce of a chyldleſſe olde man.
Reaſon.
I could wyſhe, there were that vpryghtneſſe and truſt in men, that they would neuer promiſe any thyng, but that whiche is honeſt, and would alſo perfourme that, which they haue promiſed. But now, there is neither meaſure in promiſing, nor regarde of breache of promiſe, whiche men thynke they may moſt lawfully doo, in inheritaunce and beſtowyng poſſeſſions. And for this cauſe, the lawes call the willes of Teſtatours whyle they lyue, walkyng Wylles. I wyll not trouble thee with examples, the thyng is well knowen. Thou haſt read, I take it, vnto whom in hath hapned, that not only they were promiſed the inheritaunce of the lyuyng, but alſo receyued kyſſes, and ringes, and the laſt embracinges of the partie whiche lay a dying, whiche vnto them was an vndoubted token of ſucceſſion: when as in the meane whyle, there were other heyres appoynted, and no mention at all made of them in the Wyll: thus bolde is vnfaythfulneſſe, euen in the middes of death. Doeſt thou thynke then, that thou art free from the deceites of them that are alyue, when as thou readeſt in what ſort, great and noble perſonagies haue been deluoed, by the craftes of them that haue lyen a dying? And not to ſtay vpon many: The moſt honourable Gentleman Lucius Lucullus, ſuffered ſome tyme this kynde of mocke and reproche, and alſo a greater ſtate then he was, Auguſtus the Emperour. An horrible, and moſt ſtrange delyght in deceyuyng, which wyll not forſake the miſerable and wretched ſoules, no not in the very poynt of death: but this is your maner, and thou repoſeſt thy truſt vpon a promiſed inheritaunce, whereof thou mayeſt be diſappoynted, both by the longer lyfe, and ſhorter fayth of the teſtatour: although, yf theſe doo thee no harme, he may haue moſt iuſt cauſe to change his purpoſe, to wit, an heyre of his owne, and young iſſue borne to an old man. For Cato begate a
chylde, when he was aboue foureſcore yeeres old, and Maſiniſſa, when he was more neere to ninetie. The lyke alſo happeneth now adayes vnto your olde men, who I woulde they were as lyke vnto thoſe anncient fathers in ſtrength of mynde, as they are to force of engendryng: whiche beyng ſo, truely the lawfull heyre hyndreth the intruder, and cutteth of his foolyſhe hope.
Hope.
I am named Heyre in an olde mans Teſtament.
Reaſon.
But perhappes he is yet lyuyng, and lyke to lyue. As for the Teſtamentes and Wylles, they are made in the lyfe time, and confirmed in the death: thou thynkeſt vpon the Carcas and Buriall, and Wolfe may be weeried with expectation and hunger.
Hope.
An Inheritaunce ſhall come directly vnto mee.
Reaſon.
As the Teſtatour, ſo alſo is the inheritaunce ſubiect to caſualties, that a man can not alwayes haue that heyre whiche he woulde: and an inheritaunce many tymes is nothyng but a vayne name, yea, ſundrie tymes a ſmall inheritaunce is very deerely bought, when a man maketh hym ſelfe ſeruiceable and ſubiect to a tatter olde foole, and vſeth flattering wordes, vnmeete for a man. Surely, there is no commoditie to be compared with the loſſe of honeſtie, and that whiche is decent.
Hope.
The Inheritaunce ſhall fall vnto me, without contradiction of Lawe or Fortune.
Reaſon.
Whereby knoweſt thou that? ſeeyng that ſaying of the moſt auntient and wyſe Father Marcus Cato is true: I haue heard oftentymes, ſayth he, that many thynges may happen betweene the mouth and the morſell. But admitie nothyng happen betweene, but that thyne expected inheritaunce fall vnto thee, it wyll not tarrie with thee, but departe from thee, to others. Worldly goodes, are roullyng, and money, men ſay, is of purpoſe made rounde, that it may alwayes be runnyng. Thou haſt gotten an inheritaunce for thy ſucceſſour: thou beyng perhappes ſadde, for hym that wyll reioyce: thou beyng carefull, for hym that is negligent: and looke howe thou haſt hoped of another, ſo wyll other hope of thee.
Of Alchimie. The .Cxi. Dialogue.
HOPE.
I Hope for good ſucceſſe in Alchimie.
Reaſon.
It is ſtrange thou ſhould eſt hope for that which neuer hapned effectually to thy ſelfe, nor to any man els, & yf report go that it euer hapned to any man, that report was made by ſuche as it was expedient to beleeue them.
Hope.
I hope for good ſucceſſe in Alchimie.
Reaſon.
What ſucceſſe meaneſt thou, other then ſmoke, aſhes, ſweate, ſighes, woordes, deceit, and ſhame? Theſe are the ſucceſſes of Alchimie, wherely we neuer ſawe any poore man aduaunced to ritches, but many ryche men fall into pouertie. And yet ye haue no regarde hereof, ſo ſweete a thyng it is to hope and be deceyued, wherevnto ye be pricked foorth by couetouſneſſe, and dryuen headlong through madneſſe, that ye thinke that to be true, whiche you hope for, and falſe, whiche you ſee. Thou haſt ſeene ſome, that in other matters are wyſe, yet in this behalfe to be madde: and ſome very ryche men, vtterly conſumed with this vanitie, and whyle they couet to become rycher, and gape after filthie lucre, to conſume theyr wel gotten goodes, and hauyng ſpent all theyr reuenue in vnprofitable expences, at length to haue wanted verie neceſſaries: and other ſome, forſakyng the Citie wherein they dwelt, haue paſſed foorth the reſidue of theyr lyues in ſorowe and heauineſſe, beyng able to thynke vpon nothyng els, but Bellowes, Tongues, and Coales, and beyng able to abyde to keepe companie with none, but of theyr owne diſpoſition and hereſie, haue at length become, as it were, wilde people: many finally, that fyrſt by meanes of this exerciſe loſt the eyes of theyr mynde, haue afterwarde alſo by the ſame, loſt their bodyly eyes.
Hope.
I hope for golde, whiche my woorkeman hath promiſed.
Reaſon.
It is hehofefull to vnderſtande what euery artificer in euery art promiſeth. There be ſome that can not be beleeued, whatſoeuer they promyſe, and ſo muche the leſſe, as they bynde theyr promyſe the more with an othe. But, O you foolyſhe men, is it not ſufficient for you to be madde in true mettalles, which the earth bryngeth foorth, but that other mineralles vexe you
with counterfeiting? Is it a ſmall matter to haue wandred from vertue, but that alſo loſſe be added to your errour, and toyle to your loſſe, and ſhame to your toyle? He that promiſeth thee his golde, wyll ſuddenly runne away with thy golde. It is no newe tale I tell thee, but a common cuſtome, although the deceyt that is committed by fyre, is often alſo purged by fyre, notwithſtandyng, when thou art deluded by the ſubteltie of thy deceyuer, art nothyng damnified by his puniſhment, but ſhalt be the better knowen and poynted at for a couetous and foolyſhe perſon, conſumed with blowyng of Coales, ſinged with the fyre, ſmutched with the ſmoke.
Hope.
The Alchimiſte promiſeth me great matters.
Reaſon.
Byd hym fyrſt perfourme that for hym ſelfe, whiche he promiſeth to others, and that firſt he relieue his owne pouertie: For, for the moſt part they are a beggerly kynde of people, and confeſſyng them ſelues to be poore, they wyll enryche others, as though other mens neede were more greeuous vnto them then theyr owne: ſo that beyng wretched them ſelues, they vſe moſt impudently to ſay, that they take pitie vpon others, and do promiſe great matters, ſome time to them that they know not O ſhameful promiſe, & O foolyſh beleefe?
Hope.
I haue learned the art of Alchimie, I ſhalbe riche.
Reaſon.
Nay rather, yf thou were ryche, thou ſhalt waxe poore: for I ſay, that this art whereof thou ſpeakeſt, is none other, then the art of lying and deceyuing. But goe to, foraſmuch as thy minde is ſo bent, followe it, and I tell thee before hand that thou ſhalt reape profite by this art, thy houſe ſhall ſwarme with ſtrange gheaſtes, and wonderfull kindes of implementes, thou ſhalt haue ſtore of eaters and drinkers, and that by good reaſon, as beyng incenſed with heate of the fire, and greedineſſe of deſire: there ſhalbe blowers, & deceiuers, and mockers, euery corner ſhal ſtande ful of veſſels, and pottes, and baſons, and pannes, & glaſſes of ſtinking waters: moreouer, ſtrange heathes, and outlandy ſhe ſaltes, and ſulphure, and ſtilles, and furnaces, by meanes of all whiche, in the ende thou ſhalt procure vnto thy ſelfe vayne cares, follie of minde, deformitie of countenaunce, filthineſſe of body, dimneſſe of ſight, carefulneſſe and pouertie, and that which is woorſt of all, the name of a Iugler or Sorcerer, & a
lyfe continually to be ledde in darkeneſſe, among the ſecret infamous lurkyng corners of Theeues.
Hope.
I hope to obteyne the effect of my deſire.
Reaſon.
Perhaps thou mayeſt conceyue matter to hope and be glad hereof, but not to reioyce.
Hope.
I drawe neare to the ende of my perpoſe.
Reaſon.
Haſt thou fixed Mercurie? or brought any other vayne concluſion to effect? Notwithſtandyng, thou art very farre from thy purpoſe, thou ſhalt alwayes lacke ſome neceſſarie matter, but neuer want deceyt.
Of the promiſes of VVyſemen, and Southſayers. The .Cxii. Dialogue.
HOPE.
DIuinours, and Southſayers, promiſe me many thinges.
Reaſon.
Loe, thou haſt found out another kynde of men, to whom if thou geue credite, thou ſhalt alwayes hang in ſuſpenſe, and lyue in Hope: for the thynges ſhall neuer come to paſſe whiche they promiſe, and thou ſhalt neuer lacke promiſers: ſo that on the one ſide, gapyng after the runaway promiſed thynges, and on the other ſyde, prouoked by promiſes, thou ſhalt continually be toſſed to and fro, after the maner of Ixion.
Hope.
The Southſayers put mee in good hope.
Reaſon.
It is as eaſie a matter to bryng the credulous into hope, as the timerous into feare: as for conſtant mindes, they are not eaſily mooued vnto eyther ſide.
Hope.
Mathematicians promiſe me manie matters.
Reaſon.
There is nothyng more redie vnto them that want honeſtie, then to abounde with promiſes: but who ſo are aſhamed to lye, are flowe in promiſing.
Hope.
The Mathematicians promiſe me happie fortune.
Reaſon.
Chooſe other auowers as a pledge, the kynde of promiſes is brittle, a bare woorde is ſcarcely to be truſted.
Hope.
Mathematicians promiſe me many thynges.
Reaſon.
Seeke ſome that may fulfyll thoſe promiſes: it is ſufficient for them to haue put thee in hope, no one man canne doo all thynges.
Hope.
I am awaked by the Southſayers anſwers.
Reaſon.
Thou ſhalt be brought a ſleepe by the euentes, for nothing ſhall happen that is promiſed thee.
Hope.
I am willed to hope for great matters.
Reaſon.
It is ſtrange, that the mind of man that is ſtubberne to vertue, ſhould be ſo much obedient to vanitie. If vertue commaund any one thing, be it neuer ſo good, it is not regarded: but if vanitie wyl any thing, although it be difficult and moſt vile, it is obeyed.
Hope.
The Mathematicians promiſe me happie fortune.
Reaſon.
Theſe be woonderful felowes, that know only what is to come, and are ignorant of that which is paſt, and preſent, and do ſo pronounce of thinges that are in heauen, as though they had been called to counſell among the goddes, and were now come downe from thence with a freſh memory, when as in the meane whyle they be ignorant what is doone vppon the earth, in theyr owne countrey, in theyr houſe, and in theyr chamber: ſo that it is very true whiche thou readeſt in Tullie, No man ſeeth what is before his feete, but they ſearche the regions of heauen.
Hope.
A certayne notable and true Mathematician, telleth me of great matters.
Reaſon.
The more notable the diuinour is, the greater is his libertie of lying, and his credite more prone to a falſe tale. Truely I vſe often tymes to marueyle, and our countrey man Tully not without cauſe marueyled alſo, what newe or vnaccuſtomable accident is happened in this matter, that when as in al ſortes of men many true matters are obſcured by one notable lye, and the credite of the reporter is euer more afterward had in ſuſpition, it fareth otherwyſe in this kynde of people, that one ſlender and caſuall true tale, as it were a veyle beyng ſet agaynſt many fittens, notwithſtandyng purchaſeth credite to a publique lye, yf it be founde that he once tolde true, wherein there was neuer any ſo impudent a lyar, but ſome tyme hath told trueth, eyther agaynſt his wyl, or vpon ignorance: but yf any of thoſe by chaunce doo hyt vpon the trueth, then is the matter cocke, he ſhalbe beleeued yf he foretel that there ſhal fall a Star this day from heauen: finally, he may lye in all caſes, without ſuſpition of lying, that coulde be once founde out of a lye. And they ſtycke moſt vppon this one point, for that they can ſee into the thynges that are to come, beyng forgetful of that which is paſt, deceiuing thoſe that
haue affiance in them, by meanes of the fauour and ſight beliefe which they beare vnto them.
Hope.
I geue credice vnto Diuinours that foretel me good fortune.
Reaſon.
To geue credite to mad men, is madneſſe. And truely although that Cicero ſeemeth herein to be of an other mynde, yet I am of opinion that the name which the Grecians haue geuen vnto this thing, is more apt then that which is geuen by your countreymen. For the Latines haue deriued this woord diuination, a Diuis, from the goddes, or a Diuinitate, from Diuinitie: but the Grecians fetch their woord Mantice, a Furore, from madnes: you perhaps more finely, but they more truely. The ſame art al the holy Doctours doo by one content condemne, namely Ambroſe, Auguſtine, with the reſidue, who, if it ſo happen at any time, as this peſtilent cuſtome hath preuailed among many, that among theſe brablers in diſputation concernyng the trueth, they are had in ſuſpition for the very names ſake of theyr profeſſion, ſo that the profeſſours of the true fayth cannot be hearde, with the free conſent alſo of all other, who beyng innumerable are of the ſame opinion. And although the godly or vertuous men do condemne diuination, what cauſe is there, or iuſt occaſion of ſuſpition, but that only one, and eſpecially among many, the moſt excellent Cicero may be regarded and hearkened vnto: For truely he condemneth, mocketh, and deſpiſeth this whole kinde of illuſions and deceipts. And to be ſhort, omitting thoſe thyngs whiche this place cannot holde, not only al godly religion, but alſo true Philoſophie, and likewiſe Poetrie, which directly imitateth the ſame, and not the holy men only, but alſo all the learned, do reiect this vanitie, except thoſe only that lyue of it, or that beyng by them ſeduced, are fallen into theyr ſnares, vppon whoſe loſſes and errours they founde theyr Art, and rayſe theyr gayne. In which Art, this is the chiefe and principal point, to cloke theyr fraude with obſcuritie, and ſo to geue an ambiguous or doubtful anſwere, ſo that whatſoeuer hapneth, may ſeeme to haue ben foretolde, which is a common prouiſo among al that profeſſe the knowledge of thyngs to come, wherin not theyr Art, whiche is none, nor theyr wyt, which without learnyng and knowledge in matters is naked, but theyr ſubtiltie
and boldneſſe, and impudencie, is wonderful. So that, that whiche once the rough Cato ſpake merily, that he marueiled that one ſouthſayer laughed not when he ſaw another, may be alſo fitly applied vnto al aire watchers, ſouthſaiers, fortune readers, gheſſers, chaldies, and Mathematicians, and the whole kinde of diuination, ſo vncerteine it is whether their fraude be more filthie, or your madnes more ridiculus: howbeit, it were an eaſie matter to anſwere their quiddities, and refute their reaſons, but it would be ouerlong, and is ſo common a matter, and ſo notably handled by ſundry excellent men, that the repetition thereof woulde not only be ſuperfluous, but alſo folyſh. And vnto your moſt fond vanitie, what may be ſayde other, then that ye are worthy not only to be mocked by earthly men, but alſo by men made of clay, and that haue none other knowledge, then by this meanes only to deceiue fooles, by pretending great ſkyl, and abuſing you with the name and colour of heauen.
Hope.
I am perſwaded that proſperous fortune is at hande, the expectation whereof is ſweete, pleaſant, and acceptable vnto me.
Reaſon.
Nay rather, bytter, ſowre, and troubleſome: but you hauyng loſt your ſenſe, do iudge of the obiectes of the ſenſes, whereunto I ſuppoſe you are eaſily perſwaded. For it is an eaſye matter to perſwade them that are wyllyng: and ſome haue no neede of a perſwader, for truely they are theyr owne ſouthſayers, and take occaſion to prognoſticate happy euentes to them ſelues, both by the meetyng of liuing creatures, and the flying and chatteryng of byrdes. But if thou recount with thy ſelfe how often theſe thynges haue deceyued thee, yf thou aſke counſell of thy neyghbours concernyng this matter, or they, beyng infected with the ſame errour, aſke thyne aduice, thou ſhalt eaſily perceyue howe far thou oughteſt geue credite to theſe follies, vnleſſe thoſe three moſt notable and famous gouernours and Princes, Pumpeius, Craſſus, and Caeſar, will haply ſay otherwyſe vppon theyr othe, vnto whom, as it appeareth by a great witneſſe, and beſt knowne of all men, Marcus Cicero, all the Chaldeys, and ſouthſayers promyſed, that they ſhoulde all three of them ende theyr lyues moſte gloryouſly in theyr owne countrey, in happy eſtate, and honorable old age: which how crue it was, perhaps thou attendeſt not to heare:
but truely, they dyed al by the ſwoorde, two of them more miſerably farre of from Iralie or the Citie of Rome beyng ſlayne, theyr honorable heads only, wherof ſometyme the whole world ſtoode in feare and reuerence, with ſhameful reproches buryed, but theyr bodyes moſt pitifully throwne foorth to be torne by wylde beaſtes, bytten by fyſhes, and rent by foules, cruelly mangled & diſmembred, lay there as a moſt miſerable ſpectacle of fortune. Goe thy wayes now, and ſay theſe ſouthſayers haue no knowledge, that they geue iudgement ſo vncertaynly.
Hope.
I haue obſerued an acceptable token of ſouthſaying.
Reaſon.
O importunate madneſſe: a wretched man hopeth to knowe the ſucceſſe of his affayres, of byrdes, when he hath none of hym ſelfe: what folly is greater then this? Kyng Deiotarus, a gods name, was deliuered from preſent deſtruction by the ſight of an Eagle: And Agrippa the Hebrue
〈◊〉
aduertiſed of his deliuerie out of pryſon, the ende of his aduerſitie, and begynnyng of proſperitie, by the ſitting of an Oule vpon his head, which otherwiſe is counted an infamous byrde, whoſe ſong by Virgils verſe, is counted deadly and infortunate.
Hope.
A good token and prognoſtication hath hapned.
Reaſon.
This worde Omen, ſignifiyng a token, or an abodyng, is deryued from the woorde Homo. that ſignifieth a Man, and is an argument of mens madneſſe, wherby your myndes are not only euermore drawne into errour by ſome external thyng, but alſo by one thyng or another that is within you, that there may be no part voyde of fancies and tryfles: and therefore ye obſerue your ſeruantes neeſynges, and drawe your chyldrens woordes, which they vtter by chaunce, to that purpoſe, not to the purport of them, but to your owne purpoſes, to wyt, becauſe the Centurion ſayde, Here we ſhal remayne beſt of all, the head of the worlde was not remooued: or becauſe the litle gyrle tolde her father crying, when he was goeyng foorth to warfare, that Perſes was dead, it was neceſſarily iudged that the Kyng of Macedonie ſhoulde be vanquyſhed. O ſtrange and ſotted mynde of man, with how ſmall a force art thou dryuen into the pyt of errour?
Hope.
Good fortune hapned vnto me whyle I was a ſleepe.
Reaſon.
But thou ſhalt haue ſorowful tidinges when thou art awake.
Hope.
I ſaw good
hap in ſleepe.
Reaſon.
But thou ſhalt finde il hap when thou awakeſt.
Hope.
I was an happy man in my reſt.
Reaſon.
But thou ſhalt be wretched in thy trauayle. For many tymes
•
reames ſignifie nothing, and many tymes the contrary.
Hope.
True thynges are often ſeene in dreames.
Reaſon.
But how more often falſe? The lyke iudgement is to he geuen of this, and all ſuch other kyndes of vanities, one thyng happenyng true by chaunce, purchaſeth credite to a great many of falſe, and mens myndes gapyng after that whiche is to come, taketh no regarde of that whiche is paſt.
Hope.
The Diuinours promyſe me many thyngs.
Reaſon.
I do not much wonder at theſe impoſtours and deceyuers, who accordyng to theyr maner do lyue by theyr practiſe: but I marueyle more at you, that you ſubiect your lyues, ſoules, and wittes vnto theyr bellies: and therfore take hede what perſwaſion thou holdeſt
••
r yf thou wylt folowe mine aduyce, thou ſhalt expect with a quiet and vpryght mynde, not what the Starres, but what the Creatour and gouernour of the Starres hath determined concernyng thee, feruently woorkyng ſomethyng euery day, whereby thou mayſt be founde the more woorthy of his loue. Concernyng the euentes, let it not once enter into thy mynde to mooue any of them, vnto whom the trueth is leſſe knowne then to thy ſelfe, Finally, thus perſwade thy ſelfe, that it is an harde matter for men to knowe what it is to come, and that it is not lawful for them, yf it were expedient, nor expedient, yf it were lawfull.
Of glad tidings. The. Cxiii. Dialogue.
HOPE.
I Haue heard glad tydyngs.
Reaſon.
Beleeue not fame, ſhe is a lyar.
Hope.
Many tel me glad newes.
Reaſon.
It is better ſometyme to beleeue one, then many.
Hope.
That cannot be altogeather falſe, which ſo many meſſengers doo report.
Reaſon.
The maner of common report is wel knowne, which is to mingle lies with trueth. A great many of lyes are ſeaſoned with a few true tales: for no body wyl beleeue hym that which al lyes.
Hope.
The firſt aucthour of the rumor is a cred
••
le perſon.
Reaſon.
But there is no man contented to report
only as much as he hath hearde or ſeene. it is nothyng worth vnleſſe that euery one adde ſome thyng of his owne to that which he hath heard or ſeene, which when many haue done, a man ſhal perceiue how one lye hath been heaped vpon another, ſo that this miſchiefe going from hande to hande, hath encreaſed in mens handes as it was going, and which the moſt excellent poet ſayeth, It flooriſheth by moouyng, and getteth ſtrength by going.
Hope.
Hytherto the report is very ioyful.
Reaſon.
What yf it flatter thee, that it may ſtrike thee? Many times after ioyful rumors, folow woful maſſacres: this for the more part is the manner of fortune, to promyſe hope, that ſhe may wound the deeper, and ſhe annoynteth her cruel weapon with the ſweetneſſe of ſome glad tidynges, wherewith ſhe purpoſeth to cut the throate of hym that reioyceth. Which thyng, foraſmuche as the learned and wyſe do vnderſtande, they are nothyng mooued with flatteryng reportes, but remayne vnmooueable, recountyng with them ſelues either that it is contrary, or that this rumour that ſemeth ſo acceptable, may be chaunged into the contrary.
Hope.
I am delighted in a ioyful rumour.
Reaſon.
Stay a whyle tyl thou knowe whether it be certayne, and if it ſo fall out, yet is it a ſhame for a manly courage to be moued with euery ſmal rumour, though they be true, but moſt ſhameful with thoſe that are falſe. Many haue ben aſhamed that they haue reioyced, and the remembrance of theyr falſe ioy, hath augmented theyr true griefe.
Of expecting a mans ſonne, or Farmer, or wyfe. The .Cxiiii. Dialogue.
Hope.
I Hope for my ſonnes returne.
Reaſon.
Thou hopeſt for a careful ioy, and a neare ſorow.
Hope.
I hope to ſee my friend agayne.
Reaſon.
Thou hopeſt for a ſweete thyng, but deceiueable: mens affayres tremble vpon a brittle foundation, perhaps he whom thou now lookeſt for is dead, which thou maiſt proue yf thou liue. There are a thouſand kindes of impedimens, & one that is common to al, that is, death.
Hope.
I truſt to enioy ye deſired ſight of my friend.
Reaſon.
Theſe two are almoſt alwayes ioyned togeather, to wyſhe, and to hope: but by ſundry
caſualties they be dayly ſeparated. Howe many may we thynke were there in Rome, that with very deſirous myndes expected the returne of the laſt Marcus Marcellus? But contrarywyſe his moſt cruel foe attended his commyng in the myddes of the way, whoſe furious ſauageneſſe was more mightie then was the mercyfulneſſe of the conquerour that reuoked his aduerſarie from exyle. And therfore Caeſar at the requeſt of the Senate coulde pardon Marcellus: but Marcellus Client coulde not ſuſtayne any greater griefe, then that he ſhoulde enioy that benefite from Caeſar.
Hope.
I hope to ſee my friende, and I expect him, hauyng no enimie to hinder his commyng.
Reaſon.
What man is he that hath not an enimie? and albeit he haue no priuate enimie, yet is there any without publique fooes? I meane theeues and murderers, who mooued with couetouſneſſe haue proclaymed open war agaynſt mankynde. But imagine there chaunced ſome ſuch good conſtellation, yt this miſchiefe were banyſhed out of the worlde: notwithſtandyng who ſhal defend Wagons and Horſes from ouerthrowyng, ryuers and ſtreames from ouerflowyng, brydges and houſes from fallyng, tempeſtes on Sea and lande from ryſyng? Adde moreouer the incurſion of fierce and wylde beaſtes, and venomous vermyne, by meanes of whiche, Dicaearchus a moſt curious ſearcher of ſuch matters, ſheweth that not only certaine particuler men, but alſo whole generations of men, haue ben deſtroyed. And in ſumme, looke how many chaunces there be in humane affaires, wherof there is no certaine number, ſo many enimies are there of mankinde, which may, I ſay not ſlacke thy hope, but extinguyſh it. And though nothyng els doo happen, yet death, of whom I ſpake erwhile, whether men go or ſtande, is alwaies at their elbowe, and perhaps more neere to them that ryde and traueile vppon the way, by howe muche theyr iourney, and riding, and changyng of place, ſeemeth to be ſubiect to more kindes of caſualties.
Hope.
I hope for my friendes returne, after the proſperous diſpatching of his buſineſſe.
Reaſon.
How gloriouſly & proſperouſly Druſus Nero, that was ſonne in law to Auguſtus, behaued him ſelf and accompliſhed his affaires, that he was beloued of his enimies that he had vanquyſhed, ſo that they dyd almoſt adore hym as a
God, whoſe wonderfull affection towards the memoriall of hym, euen to this preſent day, I ſuppoſe thou mighteſt perceiue, yf euer thou were conuerſant among the ſtates of Germanie. Truely he atchiued ſuch exploites wherof he might woorthily vaunt him, the whiche appeareth yet remayning to this day ingrauen in certayne Romane ſtones, wherof ſome of the firſt ſillables are defaced and throwen downe by miſfortune, in theſe verſes, At the departing of the Rhine, I inuaded the land and waſted the enimies countrey, while vnto thee, O Rome, which art glorious and renowmed with thyne euerlaſting Monumentes of victorie, Hiſter foloweth with a more calme ſtreame. How thynkeſt thou, dyd the Emperour Auguſtus, Lorde of all the world, expect the returne of ſo noble a young Gentleman, whom in louyng he had made his ſonne? And howe Liuia Auguſta, vnto whom nature had made hym beloued, but vertue more beloued, and his brothers cowardice, I ſuppoſe, moſt dearely beloued? Howe moreouer his brother hym ſelfe, how ſoeuer he was vnto other, yet moſt louyng of his moſte excellent brother? And laſt of al, howe Rome it ſelfe, and the whole common wealth, which at that tyme depended ſo much vpon no man? But what then? what was the ende of ſo manyfolde expectations? Sodayne death tooke away this long looked for Druſus, and that by naturall ſickneſſe, and as ſome approoued aucthours report, by addyng therevnto the breakyng of his thygh: ſo that he that was looked for to returne a conquerour into his countrey, was brought backe thyther dead. What ſhal I ſpeake of his ſonne Germanicus? I thinke there was neuer greater expectation of any man. It was not his father nor yet Auguſtus that expected him, who were then both dead, but it was the whole citie of Rome. & that with ſo wonderful deſire, as if the whole citie had had but one minde, & had ben a widdow, and a mother that had but one childe. And therfore, at the fyrſt report of his ſickneſſe, al the citie was amazed, and caſt into heauineſſe, and al mens countenances & apparrel were chaunged, and there was ſorowful ſilence throughout the whole citie. But after that better tidings, although by vncertayne aucthours, reported that he was alyue and recouered, immediatly a moſt happy & loude noyſe was in euery place rayſed, which alſo awaked Tiberius
him ſelfe, and there was great concurſe of people into the capitoll ho
••
e, to perfourme vowes, and geue thankes to the goddes, inſomuche that the doores of the Temples were almoſt borne away with the throng, the darkeneſſe of the nyght was ouercome with
〈◊〉
a plentie of Torches and other lightes, and ſilence broken with the voyces of them that ſung for ioy, Rome is in ſafetie, our coun
•••
y is in ſafetie, Germanicus is in ſafetie. But what at length was the ende of this matter? Euen that whiche is moſt common in humane affayres: For there came a more certaine meſſenger, which reported that Germanicus was dead: wherevpon aroſe a publique ſorow and lamentation, which could not be reſtrained by
••
ictes, holydayes, or any conſolations. The hiſtorie is well knowen, written in the fourth booke of the Emperours.
Hope.
I hope my young ſonne wyll returne.
Reaſon.
Were not theſe young enough of whom I ſpake erewhile? Then heare of a younger. Marcellinus, that was Nephewe to the ſame Auguſtus on his ſiſters ſide, how much thinkeſt thou was he expected of his Vncle, who loued him ſo tenderly, that he could not heare, without teares, thoſe moſt noble verſes of Virgil, wherein that moſt excellent Poet celebrated the remembraunce of that young Gentleman, being but almoſt a chyld, and when he was reading them, commaunded the aucthour to holde his peace? How much of his mother Octauia, who loued him ſo dearely, that ſhe mourned for him continually vnto the laſt day of her lyfe, as though he had but then dyed, and dyd not onely contemne, but alſo hate euery one that enduoured to comfort her? What ſhoulde a man ſay to theſe matters, and what thinkeſt thou other then all other men? He returned not, but was tranſlated: and as for Druſus, he returned not to Rome as he went to Germanie, neither dyd Antioche reſtore Germanicus, neither Baiana Marcellinus. There is a common deſtinie of your expectations, but thou fanſieſt vnto thy ſelfe another, and perhaps that chaunce may happen whiche thou expecteſt, which peraduenture when it is hapned, thou wylt begin to hope and wyſhe that it were gone againe.
Hope.
I hope for the returne of my friende that is abſent.
Reaſon.
Who wil marueyle, yf they that are liuing be looked for to come agayne, when ſome alſo that are dead, as report goeth, are expected? It is
reported, that the Britaines looke for the comming againe of king Arthure. And ſome do dreame that Nero the Emperour ſhal returne, a litle before the ende of the worlde. Your whole lyfe, from the beginning to the ending, is not only ful of vayne expectations, but it ſelfe is alſo a vayne expectation. If thou perceyue not that this is ſo, thou haſt eyther lyued too ſhort tyme, or too long, or taken no regarde what is doone heere.
Hope.
I looke for my Farmer, that ſhould come out of the Countrey.
Reaſon.
Peraduenture eyther his Houſe is burnt, or his Harueſt withered away, or his Medowes ouerdried, or his Oxen dead, or his Vines hurt with the Hayle, or his Trees ouerthrowen with the whirlewinde, or his Cornefieldes drowned with ſudden waters, or his Bees flowne away, or his Fruites eaten vp with Caterpillers, or his Pigeon houſe deſtroyed by Crowes, Mice, and other vermine, or his Poultry deuoured by the Foxe, or his Lambes ſpoyled by the Woolfe: theſe for the moſt part, are the tumours that come out of the countrey.
Hope.
I hope for my Wiues comming.
Reaſon.
If thou hope for that, then do I not know what thou feareſt: yet is it ſo notwithſtanding, for ſome looke for their wines, and ſome for an ague.
Of looking for better tymes. The .Cxv. Dialogue.
HOPE.
I Looke for better tymes.
Reaſon.
All tymes are almoſt of a lyke goodnes, for that the creatour of tymes is euermore of a lyke goodnes: but you doo alwayes abuſe good tymes, and in this as al other thinges, ye impute your owne faultes to the thinges. If the men were good, the times would be good enough.
Hope.
Theſe times can not continue, but more ioyfull ſhall ſucceede.
Reaſon.
No time continueth, all paſſe away, and when they are gone, they returne no more: through vertue, and induſtrie, and the ſtudie of good artes, they may be bridled, not but that they ſhal paſſe away, but that they do not periſhe: for there is nothing ſweeter then the remembraunce of tyme wel ſpent. But you not knowing how to vſe any thing as it ought to be, when ye haue beſtowed all your lyfe tyme eyther in ſleepe or idleneſſe, or in
carefulneſſe, or vnprofitable buſineſſe, ye accuſe the giltleſſe time. Doe I lye, yf I ſay that you conſume your infancie and chyldhood in vayne paſtimes, your youth and mans ſtate in laſciuiouſneſſe and auarice, your olde age, in complaintes and lamentations? What faulte is there heere in the times? They paſſe away, I confeſſe, for it is their nature ſo to doo, and you neglect them whyle oportunitie ſerueth, whiche is not your nature, but your faulte. You accuſe nature, and excuſe your owne fault, which is no newe matter.
Hope.
I hope for a better worlde.
Reaſon.
The merrineſſe, or ſorowfulneſſe of the tymes, as I haue ſayde, reſteth not in the times, but in your owne ſelues. By this meanes thou ſhalt not onely vnderſtande howe to hope for proſperous times, but how to deeme of the ſorowfull, if thou looke vpon thine owne age, whiche euery day waxeth more heauie then other, as it is deſcribed by the Poet, and founde in moſt olde men. And truely, yf thou caſt thyne eyes backwarde, and begyn to recount and conſyder thine owne yeeres, thou wylt alſo therewithal begin to deſpayre of that whiche thou hopeſt. There is no cauſe why thou ſhouldeſt hope for alteration of the courſe of the world. The tymes that folowe are not better, but I feare me rather the worſe. And what is the cauſe, I pray thee? but onely becauſe men waxe woorſe and woorſe, whiche certayne notable men haue foretolde ſhould be ſo, and the effect plainly declareth? but that you men, vppon good hope do euermore conceiue ſome great opinion of your noble and modeſt youth, from whiche opinion I am farre of, for my minde can not prognoſticate nor foreſee any good to enſue at al, euery thing is ſo prone vnto vice and vntowardneſſe.
Hope.
The times are euyl, but better ſhal enſue.
Reaſon.
Euery age hath complained of the maners that haue been then, ſayth Seneca. And I adde, that euery age had cauſe in deede whereof to complayne, & ſhal haue hereafter, to the worldes end.
Hope.
I hope for a better time.
Reaſon.
There is one way vnto that, wherby yf thou attaine to a better ſtate, thou wylt then hope for no farther matter. Frame vnto thy ſelfe a merier mind, which thou canſt not do without vertue, & when thou haſt ſo done, al things ſhalbe merrie & fortunate, and nothing vnproſperous or ſorowful.
Hope.
I looke for a better tyme.
Reaſon.
If it chaunce to come,
which is doubtfull, verily as that approcheth, thou draweſt away. How muche were it better to vſe well the tyme preſent, rather then carefully to expect that, whiche perchaunce eyther wyll not come at all, or thou ſhalt neuer lyue to ſee.
Of the hoped commyng of a Prince. The .Cxvi. Dialogue.
HOPE.
I Hope for a Princes comming.
Reaſon.
As many things are feared, which were rather to be wiſhed: ſo many are wiſhed, whiche were rather to be feared: on both ſides there is great want of iudgement.
Hope.
I hope for the Princes commyng.
Reaſon.
How much more ſeemely were it to hope for libertie: for truely, he that hopeth for a Lord or a Maiſter, hopeth for his owne ſeruitude.
Hope.
I hope that the Prince wyll come.
Reaſon.
Thou hopeſt alſo for the common miſchiefe whiche commeth with him. But the tyme hath been, when Princes haue hoped for their kingdomes, and the people haue hoped for their Prince: but now the kingdome is a burden to the Prince, and the Prince a plague to the people.
Hope.
I and the common wealth, doo hope that the Prince wyll come.
Reaſon.
What thou alone dooeſt hope for, thou knoweſt beſt thy ſelfe, wherein alſo thou mayeſt eaſily be deceyued: but as for the hope of the Common wealth, it is but foolyſhe. For what man, vnleſſe he were mad, woulde hope for, or deſire that, whiche he hath ſo often times experimented to be hurtful?
Hope.
I hope that the Prince wyll come.
Reaſon.
And he wyll bryng with hym ſundry ſtirres and tumultes, alterations of Cities, hurtfull nouelties, famine, peſtilence, warres, diſcorde: al theſe at once, or euery one of them ſeuerally, vſe commonly to come with Princes now a dayes. If thou lyke of theſe thynges, then hope for the Princes commyng: but yf none of theſe be fearefull, notwithſtandyng the very name of an Empire is ful of repor
•
es and rumours, deuoyde of al goodneſſe, and only founded vpon the ſhadowe of antiquitie.
Hope.
I hope that the Prince wyll come.
Reaſon.
But I woulde haue thee wyſe and circumſpect, that as often as thou heareſt of his comming, thou imagine that thou heareſt the voyce
of ſome thunder that goeth before lyghtnyng, nor begynne not to hope, but rather to feare, yf ſo be one of them muſt needes fayle. For to feare aduerſitie, although it be repugnant to vertue, yet is it agreeable to nature: but to hope for euyll, is contrary to nature and vertue.
Hope.
I hope that the prince wyll be heere ſhortly.
Reaſon.
When thou ſeeſt hym preſent, imagine that thou beholdeſt an vnfortunate ſtarre to the Common wealth: and concernyng this matter, take aduice of thyne owne memorie, or demaunde of thy Parentes, or of thy Grandfathers, or great Grandfathers, and thou ſhalt finde it to be ſo as I ſay, whiche thyng, declare thou alſo to thy chyldren & poſteritie, leaſt they alſo lyke fooles, hope for the Princes commyng. I pray thee tel mee, when dyd euer the ſmall Beaſtes hope for the Lyons comming, or the leſſer Foules for the Eagles? Pardon me, if I tel yt trueth, Man is a moſt foolyſhe creature, and alwayes moſt deſirous of his owne harme: other haue neede of a bayte to take them withall, and man is caught onely with rumour of fame.
Of hope of Fame after death. The .Cxvii. Dialogue.
HOPE.
I Hope for Fame after my death, for my deſartes.
Reaſon.
Many hope that they deſerue fame, when they rather deſerue infamie: and lyke traueylers that wander out of their way, when they thynke they goe ryght foorth, then goe they backewarde.
Hope.
I am famous in my lyfe tyme, and I hope to be more famous after my death.
Reaſon.
This is true, I confeſſe, in ſome, inſomuche as Anneus Seneca in a certaine Epiſtle profecieth, that he ſhoulde he beloued of poſteritie: and Statius Papinius ſayth, that he hath prepared a redie path for the preſent fame vnto his woorke among poſteritie: and lykewyſe the Poet Ouid foretold of the eternitie of his name to come, and that he ſhoulde be read by the mouth of the people, and lyue by fame throughout all ages: and truely none of theſe are deceyued. But how many thynkeſt thou haue there been, that haue hoped the lyke, but their hope hath fayled them? Many perhappes
haue thought as much, and haue written, but haue not found that which they promiſed to them ſelues.
Hope.
If I be famous whyle I lyue, why ſhould I not be more famous after my death?
Reaſon.
For that it is an accuſtomable and common experience, that many that haue been famous and noble in their life time, after their death haue become obſcure and vnknowen. Dooeſt thou wonder at it? The cauſe is manifeſt, which is a certaine affabilitie, neate & pleaſant ſpeach, a fawning countenance, a friendly looke, gentle greeting, benefites beſtowed vpon neighbours, defending of clientes, hoſpitalitie towardes ſtrangers, courteſie towardes al men. Theſe, and ſuche lyke, do purchaſe f
•
me to them that are lyuing: but ſo ſone as they are dead, they continue no longer, vnleſſe perhaps as long as they remaine that knewe them, whiche how ſhort a time it is, thou ſeeſt: for how ſhould thinges continue, that are not grounded vpon a ſure foundation? It is the courſe of nature, that the thinges that are weakely eſtabliſhed, and ſlenderly encreaſed, do ſoone decay. And therefore that thy fame may be durable, it muſt proceede eyther from thy holyneſſe of lyfe, or worthineſſe of thy deſartes, or ſingularitie of thy written woorkes. A rare kinde of honour, theſe praiers, and courteous kind of gowned Gentlemen, which walke in their Silkes, and glitter in their precious Stones and Iewels, and are poynted at by the people, are knowen no longer then they can ſpeake, or a litle longer. An hard caſe, that all this brauerie and pompe, this ſhewe of knowledge, theſe thunderyng ſpeeches, ſhoulde ſo ſoodenly vaniſhe away into a thinne ſmoake: an hard caſe, I confeſſe, but true it is in deede, for they haue miniſtred none occaſion of any teſtimonie of their due prayſe, but onely of ambition, lucre, or ſlouthfulneſſe.
Hope.
I ſhal haue fame after my death.
Reaſon.
Fame neuer profited the dead, but hath oftentimes hurt the liuing. For what was it other that procured the deſtruction of Cicero and Demoſthenes, then their ſurpaſſing fame of learnyng? The lyke alſo may be ſayde of Socrates and Zeno, and infinite other, who are all knowen. For what was it that gaue occaſion to the Athenians to murther Androgeu
•
, that was ſonne to king Gnoſius, but onely the fame of his wit and learning? What brought the choſen men, as they tearme them, of the great ſhyp Argos, who
in deede were very Theeues, vnto Oetes king of Colchos, but only the fame of his ryches? For what els may we thinke to be ſignified by that famous golden fleece of the Ram, but great riches diuerſly diſperſed, wherewithall beaſtly rich men, and ſuche as are deſtitute of the true ryches, are plentifully endued, lyke as Sheepe that are clad with their fleeces?
Hope.
I ſhal be famous.
Reaſon.
Admit thou be, what great matter conceyueſt thou thereof? Fame perhaps were ſomewhat, yf knowledge were ioyned with it, as it often hapneth in the liuing: but wyll it auayle thee any thyng, to be prayſed of them whiche knowe thee not yf they ſee thee? I pray thee tell me, yf thou ſhouldeſt ſee Homer and Achilles, yf Virgil and Auguſtus, ſhoulde they not paſſe by vnknowen, although their names be neuer ſo well knowen, and famous? Beleeue me, your hopes are for the more part vayne in two reſpectes: the one, in that the thinges that ye hope for, come not to paſſe: the other, in that if they do come to paſſe, yet doo they not perfourme that whiche they promiſed. For why, for the moſt, al humane thinges conſiſt more in hope, then in effect. Caſt away therfore this vayne hope, & fonde deſyres, and contemnyng of earthly thinges, learne at length to wyſhe and hope for heauenly thynges.
Of Glorie hoped for by buyldyng. The .Cxviii. Dialogue.
HOPE.
I Hope for Glorie by buyldyng.
Reaſon.
I knewe not ſo much before, that glory was wonne out of Lime, and Sande, and Timber, and Stone: but I ſuppoſed it had only been gotten by atchiuing of valient deedes, and exerciſe of vertue.
Hope.
I purchaſe Glorie vnto my ſelfe by buyldyng.
Reaſon.
But it is a frayle and tranſitorie Glorie. Whatſoeuer is made by mans hande, is eyther ouerthrowen by mans hande, or fayleth of it ſelfe in continuance of tyme. For long tyme, hath verie long and ſtrong handes, there is none of all your woorkes that canne withſtande olde age. Wherefore, when theſe thynges ſhall fall whereon this thy Glorie is founded, it muſt needes be, that it fall alſo. If haply thou beleeue not,
beholde the thinges that are of antiquitie, whereof thou canſt not be ignoraunt. Where is now that proude tower of Ilium in Troy? Where is Byrſa of Carthage? Where are the tower and walles of Babylon? It is now an habitation of Serpentes and wilde beaſtes: I ſpeake nowe of the auncient Citie of Babylon. As for the neerer and newe Babylon, it ſtandeth yet, and is in caſe to be ſoone deſtroyed, yf you were men. To be ſhort, where are thoſe ſeuen notable woorkes, whiche the Greeke writers haue ſo muche celebrated? And to come vnto more later tymes, Where (I pray thee) is Neroes golden houſe, which how much it weeried the woorkemen, imagine thou, it weerieth nowe the readers of it: whiche houſe, with other outragies and follies in buildyng, wherein he exceeded al other, brought hym to pouertie, and enforced hym to rapine? Where are Diocleſians warme Fountaynes, and Antonius Bayne, and Marius cymbrum, and Seuerus Septizonium, and alſo his Senerian warme Welles? And briefely to conclude, where is Auguſtus Market place, and the houſe of Mars the reuenger, and of thundryng Iupiter in the Capitol, and the Temple of Apollo in the Palace? Where is alſo his Gallerie, and Librarie, both Greeke and Latine? likewyſe his other Gallerie and large Treaſance, which were buylded and dedicated in the names of Gaius and Lucius his two Nephues? and the thyrde Gallerie of his wyfe Liuia, and his Syſter Octauia, and Marcellus Theatre? Where are all the notable peeces of woorke, whiche ſundrie noble men buy? ded in many places of the Citie with ſo great payne, and exceſſiue charges, at the commaundement and inſtance of the ſame Prince? Merius Philippus houſe of Hercules and the Muſes. Lucius Cornificius houſe of Diana, and Aſinius Pollioes Court of Libertie, and Munacius Pancus houſe of Saturne, Cornelius Balbus Theatre, and Statilius Taurus Amphitheater? Ouer and aboue theſe, the innumerable woorkes of Marcus Agrippa? And not to touche euery thyng, where are all the vaine and ouerriotous Palaces of Princes and Emperours? Seeke in bookes, and thou ſhalt finde their names: but ſeeke all the Citie of Rome ouer, and thou ſhalt eyther finde nothyng at all, or a fewe remnantes remainyng of ſo many great woorkes:
and therefore thou knoweſt what thou mayeſt hope of thyne owne. Truely, vnleſſe that Auguſtus, who was chiefe of al, hadde left ſomethyng behynde hym beſydes buyldynges, his glory had long ſynce fallen to the grounde: and not only the Temples of the Goddes, which he prepared, fell downe vppon thoſe that buylded them, but other places alſo in the ſame Citie, at this day haue ſome of them fallen downe, ſome trembled and ſhaken, and nowe they can ſcarſe ſtande alone and beare theyr owne burden, except one only, whiche is the Temple of Pantheon made by Agrippa. Beleeue me, glory that muſt continue, requyreth other foundations then are made of Stone.
Hope.
I ſeeke for glory by buyldyng.
Reaſon.
Seeke it where it is, thou ſhalt neuer fynde a thing where it is not: true glory conſiſteth not in walles nor ſtones. There are, I confeſſe, commonly iudgementes and eſtimations of thynges geuen foorth, in whiche reſpect glory is ſayde to be gotten three wayes: by doyng ſome notable deede, ſo that good aucthours may condingly wryte of thee: or by writyng ſome excellent woorke, whiche poſteritie may reade and woonder at: or by buyldyng ſome ſyngulare peece of woorke: whiche yf it be ſo, yet this laſt is the leaſt, and of the other the moſt tranſitorie.
Hope.
I leaue behynde me woorkes of buyldyng, wherein I vaunt when I am dying, and hope to gayne glory among poſteritie.
Reaſon.
Auguſtus the Emperour, of whom I ſpake, vaunted that he had left the citie of Marble, which he found of bricke, which glory notwithſtanding, vnleſſe it had been holpen with other thynges, whereunto it would haue come, we ſee: and therfore yf thou be wyſe, dye in other traueyles, and embrace permanent hope. For theſe thinges whereof thou truſteſt, are both of no price, and alſo wyll ſhortly followe thee, and returne to the earth from whence they came.
Hope.
I haue builded houſes whereby I hope for prayſe.
Reaſon.
Perhaps they wyl prayſe thee that ſhal dwel in them. A ſhort and narowe prayſe: but they that doo come after ſhall eyther not vnderſtande that it is due vnto thee, or as men ſay commonly, geue out that thoſe woorkes were buylded
by Paganes, and thy name ſhalbe vnknowne.
Of glory hoped for by keeping Companie. The .Cxix. Dialogue.
Hope.
I Hope for glory by keepyng company.
Reaſon.
It ſkilleth muche with whom thou keepe company, for there are many, whiche I woulde it were not ſo, whoſe company is diſcredible and infamous.
HOPE.
I knowe that there is no glory wonne but by good artes, or conuerſation with good men: I reſt my ſelfe vpon this laſt, and hope to be good eyther by the example of good men, or yf that fayle, I hope that the familiaritie of good men wyll purchaſe me glory.
Reaſon.
Truely in a young man this is a very good ſigne, who vnleſſe he hadde a good mynde, woulde neuer wyſhe to be ioyned with good men. For, of all friendſhyppes and familiarities, a certayne lykeneſſe is the cauſe and couplyng togeather. Proceede therefore, and yf thou canſt matche thoſe whom thou dooeſt imitate, it is wel doone: If not, yet yf thou doo thy beſt, thy good wyll ſhal not want the rewarde of glory. For the chiefe and greateſt part of vertue is, to haue a good mynde vnto vertue, and vnleſſe this goe before, vertue wyll not folow.
Hope.
I boaſt in my familiaritie with good men.
Reaſon.
Veryly, I prayle thee for it, from whiche let neyther the hope of gayne, nor of any other thing withdrawe thee, and bende thou al thyne induſtrie vnto this, that thou mayeſt be lyke them: otherwyſe, that whiche is doone for glory only, deſerueth not true glory.
Hope.
I hope for glory by conuerſation with good men.
Reaſon.
A great hope, and not diſcommendable, ſeeing it conſiſteth in obſeruyng and imitating of knowledge and eloquence, and other good artes of peace and warre: For many haue become noble, by conuerſation with noble men. But take heede of this, that through errour thou chooſe not to thy ſelfe euyl leaders in ſteede of good, or by meanes of the lamentable
ſcarcitie of good men, and penury of vertues in this age, thou attayne not to that for whiche thou ſeekeſt.
Of manyfolde hope. The Cxx. Dialogue.
HOPE.
I Hope for many thynges.
Reaſon.
In much hope there is muche vanitie, and great meanes left vnto fortune to deceiue.
Hope.
I hope for many thynges.
Reaſon.
Many thynges diſapoynt a manyfolde hope: Who ſo hopeth for litle, hath left but a narrowe way for caſualties, but not vtterly ſtopped it.
Hope.
I hope for good health.
Reaſon.
A forgetfulneſſe of mortalitie.
Hope.
I hope for long lyfe.
Reaſon.
A long pryſon, wherein thou ſhalt ſee much, and ſuffer muche agaynſt thy lykyng.
Hope.
Fyrme members.
Reaſon.
Strong bandes, but pleaſant notwithſtandyng, from whiche thou art a frayde to be looſed.
Hope.
Surpaſſyng beautie of the body.
Reaſon.
Prouocation vnto pleaſures.
Hope.
Happy ende of my yeeres.
Reaſon.
The matter of a ſhameful and ſorowful thyng.
Hope.
The couenanted death of my louer.
Reaſon.
Some ſhort and fylthy matter, I knowe not what.
Hope.
Libertie to offende.
Reaſon.
A miſerable ioy, and long repentaunce.
Hope.
Oportunitie to reuenge.
Reaſon.
An entraunce vnto crueltie.
Hope.
A nymble and ſtrong body.
Reaſon.
A ſtubburne and rebellious drudge.
Hope.
Great riches.
Reaſon.
An heauie burden of Burres and Bryers.
Hope.
Shyppes to returne from ſundry Seas.
Reaſon.
Fortune diuerſly diſperſed, betweene the monſters of the Sea and the Rockes, beaten with the Surgies, drawen with ropes, and dryuen with the wind.
Hope.
Gayne by the hoped merchandize.
Reaſon.
A baite whiche will corment thee with continuall carefulneſſe, and by the hope of one ſmall gayne, dryue thee headlong vnaduyſedly into many loſſes: A newe Merchaunt is eaſye to beleeue, but he that is expert forſeeth many thynges.
Hope.
Honeſt beſtowyng of my ſonne, or
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daughter in marryage.
Reaſon.
There is no hope almoſt, that is ſo often and ſo grieuouſly deceyued.
Hope.
Great power.
Reaſon.
An hateful miſerie, a rytch pouertie, a fearefull pride.
Hope.
A kyngdome and empire.
Reaſon.
A cragged headlong downefall, and tempeſtuous ſtormes, and vnder a glitteryng diademe, a careful countenance, and heauie hart, an vnfortunate lyfe.
Hope.
Honours of the court of pleas.
Reaſon.
Duſt, and clamour.
Hope.
Wedlocke, and children.
Reaſon.
Contention, and cares.
Hope.
Warfare for my ſelfe, and a ſonne for my wyfe.
Reaſon.
Trauayle to thy ſelfe, and payne to thy beloued.
Hope.
The death of mine olde wyfe, and that I may haue a younger.
Reaſon.
To be looſed from a worne ſtryng, and to be tyed to a ſtrong newe Rope.
Hope.
Wyt, a tongue, and learning.
Reaſon.
An Handuyle, an Hammer, and a peece of iron, whereby to breake thy ſelfe and others of theyr ſleepe.
Hope.
Commendation at my buryall.
Reaſon.
A Nightyngale to ſyng vnto a deafe perſon.
Hope.
A golden Pyramis.
Reaſon.
A paynted houſe for a blynde man.
Hope.
Glory after my death.
Reaſon.
A proſperous gale of wynde after Shypwracke.
Hope.
A name among poſteritie.
Reaſon.
A teſtimonie from vnknowne perſons.
Hope.
An heyre for my ſelfe.
Reaſon.
A friende to thy patrimonie, and an argument to thy ſelfe that thou ſhalt not returne.
Of hoped quietneſſe of mynde. The .Cxxi. Dialogue.
HOPE.
I Hope for quietneſſe of mynde.
Reaſon.
Why hadſt thou rather hope for, then haue peace? Looke howe ſoone thou ſhalt begynne throughly to ſeeke it, thou ſhalt fynde it.
Hope.
I hope for peace of mynde,
Reaſon.
To hope for peace, is the parte of a warryour. Who maketh warre agaynſt thy mynde, but thy ſelfe only? that whiche thou haſt
taken away from thy ſelfe, impudently thou requireſt and hopeſt of another.
Hope.
I hope for peace of mynde.
Reaſon.
From whence, I pray thee? Or howe canſt thou hope for that whiche thou mayeſt geue vnto thy ſelfe, and ſo, as none can take it from thee, but thy ſelfe? Lay downe the weapons of luſt and wrath, and thou haſt abſolutely purchaſed peace for thy mynde.
Hope.
I hope for peace, and quietneſſe of mynde.
Reaſon.
Why then is that which thou dooeſt agaynſt peace? And why dooeſt thou ſtriue ſo muche agaynſt peace? Men haue ſcarce neede to endeuour ſo muche to be in ſafetie as they take paynes to ſeeke their owne deſtruction. Continuall warre and traueyle of mynde, is bought more deerely then are peace and quietneſſe: thus mens deſires doo ſtryue agaynſt theyr ſtudies, in ſuche ſort, as yf one man hadde not the mynde of one but of many, and all thoſe repugnant one to another.
Hope.
I hope for quietneſſe.
Reaſon.
I marueyle from whence ye haue this deſire of hopyng alwayes, O ye mortall generation. For when ye haue once obtayned that whiche ye hoped for, then doo ye agayne caſt foorth your hope abrode to another thyng, and from thence to another, ſo that to morowe is alwayes better then to day, and future thynges better lyked then preſent. There are ſome vnto whom nothyng is more pleaſant, then to lyue in hope, who woulde not haue theyr hope of the thynges they hope for to be altred by any euentes: vnto whom what ſhoulde I wyſhe other, then that puttyng of all thynges tyll to morowe and tyme to come, and in the meane whyle, ſpoylyng them ſelues of all theyr goodes, they may waxe olde among theyr vayne hopes: whereby at length they may vnderſtande that they hoped to none effect, and lookyng backwarde into theyr forepaſſed lyfe, they may perceyue that they ſought for that elſwhere, which they had of them ſelues.
Hope.
I hope for peace and quietneſſe of mynde.
Reaſon.
A great part of humane affayres are ſhadowes: and a great part of men are fedde with winde, and take pleaſure in dreames. O, how many doo goe foorth to euerlaſtyng labours, and warres with this hope?
Of the hope of lyfe euerlaſtyng. The .Cxxii. Dialogue.
HOPE.
I Hope for the lyfe euerlaſtyng.
Reaſon.
There is no hope more excellent, more beautifull, more holie, ſo that it be not blynde and headlong. For there be ſome men, who by alwayes dooyng euyll, doo notwithſtandyng hope for good, then whiche nothyng canne be more foolyſhe.
Hope.
I hope for the euerlaſtyng lyfe.
Reaſon.
Suche is the conſanguinitie and lynkyng togeather of vertues, as the Philoſophers doo diſpute, that who ſo hath one vertue, muſt needes haue all: whereof it foloweth, that who ſo wanteth one vertue, wanteth all: whiche yf it be true in the morall vertues, what may we iudge of the Theologicall? And therefore yf thou haue hope, thou muſt needes alſo haue fayth and charitie. But yf one of theſe be wantyng, it is no longer hope, but raſhe preſumption.
Hope.
I hope for the lyfe euerlaſtyng.
Reaſon.
Thou hopeſt for a good, or rather a moſt excellent thyng: and therefore ſee thou, that that good whiche thou dooeſt, thou doo it well. There be ſome that doo good thynges euyll, and he is no leſſe an vpryght deemer of thynges, that conſydereth as well howe, as what ſhall be and is doone, and dooeth as well weygh the Aduerbes, as the Nownes, and Verbes.
Hope.
I hope for the euerlaſtyng lyfe.
Reaſon.
Not the heauenly Powers onely, but alſo the earthly Lordes doo loue to be hoped of: but by whom? truely by thoſe of whom they knowe them ſelues to be beloued, or els perhappes that ſome tyme were odious and rebellious, and beyng deſyrous to be receyued into fauour, haue flyen vnto mercie and forgeueneſſe.
Hope.
I hope for the lyfe euerlaſtyng.
Reaſon.
Amende thy temporall lyfe, for that leadeth to the eternall.
Hope.
I hope for the euerlaſtyng lyfe.
Reaſon.
This is the onely hope of all men, whiche yf thou conceyue a ryght, it wyll make,
and alredie it dooeth make thee an happie man.
Hope.
I hope for the lyfe euerlaſtyng.
Reaſon.
Fyrſt thou muſt hope for mercie, and afterwarde for lyfe, and ſoberly and modeſtly for both.
Hope.
It is the euerlaſtyng lyfe that I hope for.
Reaſon.
O happie man, yf this thy hope fayle thee not.
Deo gratiae.
Thus endeth the fyrſt Booke.
The Epistolare Preface of Frauncis Petrarche, a moſt famous Poet and Oratour, into the ſecond booke of his woorke of Phyſicke against Fortune, wherein he disputeth of Aduerſitie.
OF all the thinges wherein I euer toke delight, either in reading or hearing, there is nothing almoſt more firmelie ſetled, or more deepelie imprinted, or that more often commeth into my remembrance, than the ſaying of Heraclitus, That all things are made by diſagrement. For in deede it is ſo: and almoſt all things in the worlde doe teſtifie that it is ſo. The Starres moue againſt the ſwift firmament: the elementes of contrarie qualities ſtriue one againſt another: the earth trembleth, the ſeas flowe, the land ſhaketh, the fires crackle, and the windes be at perpetuall conflict among themſelues: on time contendeth againſt another time, euerie thing againſt another thing, and all things againſt vs: the Spring is moyſt, the Sommer drie, Harueſt pleaſant, and Winter ſharpe: and this which is called chaunge and alteration, is in verie deede, ſtrife and diſagreement. Theſe things therefore vpon which we dwell, by which wee liue and are nouriſhed, which flatter vs with ſo manie enticements, notwithſtanding howe terrible they are, when they begin once to be angrie, the earthquakes, and moſt vehement whirlewindes, ſhipwrackes, and burnings raging vpon the earth, or in the aire, doe ſufficientlie declare. With what violence doeth haill fall? What force is there in ſtormes and tempeſtes? What ratling of thunder, what rage of lightning, what furie and feruencie of the waues,
what bellowing of the Sea, what roaring of flooddes, what excurſion of riuers, what courſe, recourſe, and concourſe of cloudes? The ſea it ſelfe, beſides the manifeſt and forcible rage of windes, and ſecret ſwelling of the flooddes which come by vncerteine turnes, hath alſo certeine and determined times of ebbes and flooddes, in manie other places, but moſt euidentlie in the Weſt. Which thing, whileſt the ſecret cauſe of the manifeſt motion is ſought after, hath raiſed no leſſe contention in the ſcooles of the Philoſophers, than in the ſea, of the floodes. Yea, moreouer, there is no liuing creature without warre: Fiſhes, wilde beaſtes, foules, ſerpentes, men: one kinde of theſe perſecuteth another, none of theſe are at quiet. The Lion followeth the woolfe, the woolfe the dogge, the dogge the Hare, with vnquencheable hatred. There is alſo a more couragious kinde of dogges, which vſeth not onelie to fight with woolfes, but alſo to hunt Lions, Leopardes, wilde Bores, & ſuch like cruell beaſtes. And of certein, their courage is ſo noble and valiant, & their ſtomacke ſo haughtie, that they contemne Beares & wilde Bores, and vouchſafe to ſet vpon onlie Elephantes and Lions. The like whereof, there was one ſent vnto king Alexander, and for that he contemned ſuch ſmall game, & his other qualities not being knowen, was therefore not regarded, but, as we read, ſlaine at his commaundement. Then was there afterwardes another ſent vnto him, who proued accordinglie, whom the King loued entierlie, and tooke exceeding delight in him. But touching the loue of dogges towardes men, vnto whom they are reported to be moſt friendlie, yet howe great their loue is in deede, vnleſſe hope of vittailes do get their goodwill, beſides their biting and vnſpeakable barking, not onlie the fable of Acteon, but Euripides alſo, truelie proueth their tearing and renting of men in pieces. The ſubtiltie of the Fox, among manie other beaſtes, is notable. Certeine fiſhermen, carrying fiſh to the towne, to the market, which in the ſommer time moſt willingly they do by night, vpon a time found a fox lying in the high way, as if ſhe had bene
dead: whom they taking vp, meaning to vncaſe her at their leaſure, to ſaue the ſkin, threwe her vpon their rippes. Then the fox filling her bellie with the fiſhe, ſoddenlie lept away: and ſo to their great wonder & indignation, eſcaped them. Howe manie other ſleightes of Foxes are there? what howling of wolues? what barking about the ſtaules of cattell? what watching of crowes and kites about pigeon houſes, and broodes of chickens? what natural and euerlaſting hatred betweene them, as ſome do report? The one goeth into the others neſt, and there breaking the egges, deſtroieth the hope of their broode. As for the Cuckowe, he hath not onlie one or two enimies, but all birdes, in a manner, inſult ouer him, as being a fugitiue, and alwayes complayning. Moreouer, what continuall wayte do the Weeſels lay for the Aſpes to entrap them? what aſſault of theeues is there againſt the priuie chambers and cloſets of rich men? what great watching & warding is there in euerie ſeuerall kinde, howe great and diligent contention? who is able to declare the manifold labours and watchings of hunters, and haukers, their craftes and ginnes to take beaſtes & foules, and of fiſhers, their hookes and nettes to take fiſhes? or on the other ſide the ſubteltie of the wilde beaſtes, foules, and fiſhe? Al which things, what are they other than the inſtrumentes of contention? Moreouer, what ſtinges are there in waſpes and hornettes? and what battailes and conflictes are there betweene theſe plagues and the poore neate? Neither are the dogges, or horſes, or other kindes of foure footed beaſtes at anie more peace and quietneſſe. What troubles haue they with flies in the ſommer time, and howe are they moleſted with ſnowe in the winter, which ſome in ieſt doe terme, the white flies? what continuall vnquietnes is there among rattes, what inſult of fleas by night, what cōtention of gnattes by day, what battailes betweene the ſtorckes & the ſnakes and frogges, what warres betweene the Pigmeis and the Cranes? What ſtrange and wonderfull conflictes doth the greedie thirſt or deſire of golde raiſe vp betweene the people Arimaspi, and the Gryphes?
So that it is not eaſie to iudge whoſe wickedneſſe is the greater, but that the one endeuour to ſteale, the other to keepe: the one are pricked forth by couetouſneſſe, the other by nature. The like deſire to keepe and ſteale, I finde likewiſe in the fartheſt partes of the world among the Indians: whileſt certein Emotes, of incredible bigneſſe, and wonderfull crueltie, do ſemblably defende their golde againſt the like couetouſneſſe of that nation. The Baſiliſke fraieth all other ſerpentes with his hiſsing, driueth them away with his preſence, and killeth them with his looke. The Dragon encloſeth the Elephant within the foldes and windinges of his bodie: for they are doubtfull and vncerteine. Whereby it commeth to paſſe, that there is naturall enmitie betweene liuing things, as thirſting after warme blood in ſummer, which ſome do write of, and the ende of the battell maketh it credible ynough, if it bee true, that the one doth die drie and without blood, and the other hauing ſucked the blood of his ſlaine enimie, like as a conquerour in the battell, yet being him ſelfe ouercome with his deintie delicates, and burſt in ſunder with ouer much drinking of blood, falleth downe dead in the ſame place. Manie other things likewiſe there be, that doe grieue and offend this kinde of beaſt, as the moſt ſharpe paine after the drinking of an horſleech, and the moſt fearefull ſeeing or hearing of a ſillie mouſe. It is a ſtraunge caſe, that ſo great a beaſt, and of ſo huge ſtrength, ſhould ſo much abhorre the ſight of ſo ſmall an enimie. But thus dame Nature hath created nothing without ſtrife and offence. The Lion him ſelfe, being a couragious and valiant beaſt, and contemning all weapons for the defence of his yong ones, yet dareth not behold the turning, nor heare the ratling of running wheeles, or emptie cartes and wagons: and moreouer, whereat a man may the more wonder, hee cannot abide the ſight of the cockes combe, and much leſſe his noyce and crowing, but aboue all things, it is ſaid, that he cannot away with the crackling of flaming fire. This ſtrife therefore hath this beaſt proper vnto him ſelfe, beſides
hunting, which is common vnto all wilde beaſtes. Tygres alſo haue their contention, who by wit and ſubtiltie doe hinder and fruſtrate the pollicies and purpoſes of their enimies that come to ſteale their whelpes, and runne away. As for the ſhee woolues, they be euer at ſtrife with hunger, huſbandemen, and ſhepheardes, I ſpeake nowe of venomous, and wilde beaſtes. But at what quietneſſe are the tame flockes of cattell? with what force, and malice doe the hogges contende among themſelues? Howe doe the leaders of the heardes lie togeather by the eares? What bickerments are there betwene them? what flights? what pride is there in the conquerour? what ſorowe in him that is conquered? what remembrance of iniuries? what returne to reuenge? Who marketh not in reading, howe the warlike bulles, & the buck goates that fight with their hornes, haue exerciſed the wittes of the Poetes? What ſhal I ſay of other things? They haue all one cauſe of diſagreement: euerie thing dependeth vpon contention. When was it ſeene, that a ſtrange horſe comming to a newe ſtable, or a ſtrange colte turned into an vnaccuſtomed paſture, could eate his meate in quietneſſe? Who hath not obſerued, that during the time that the henne ſitteth, the heat is great, & the hartburning exceeding in ſo litle a familie? although this alſo be common vnto all foules. There is no liuing creature ſo gentle, whom the loue of his young doeth not exaſperate. The rouſt cockes wounde one another with their ſpurres, and by nature and deſire of blood, plucke eche other by the combe in their fight, with all the force of their bodie: ſo much enuie, ſo much pride reigneth in their hartes, ſuch is their deſire to conquere, ſuch is their ſhame to yeelde. Who ſeeth not the ſtubburneſſe of the Duckes and Geeſe, howe they thruſt eche other with their breſtes, chide their aduerſarie with their gagling, beate him with their winges, and hange together by their billes? And as for the wilde kindes, it is leſſe maruell in them for it i
•
a cōmon and vſuall thing among them, that the bigger foules be a deſtruction and ſepulchre to the leſſer.
The wilde beaſt a wilde beaſt, the foule a foule, the fiſhe a fiſh, and one worme deuoureth another: yea, the lande foules, & foure footed water beaſtes do ſearche, turmoile & ranſacke the ſea, riuers, lakes and flooddes: ſo that of all things the water ſeemeth vnto me to be moſt troubleſome, both in reſpect of it owne mouing, and the continuall tumultes of the inhabitantes thereof, as beeing a thing moſt fruitfull of newe creatures and ſtrange monſters, whereof there is doubt, inſomuch that in this point the learned do not reiect the opinion of the common people, that looke what euer creatures there be vpon the lande or in the aire, the like in forme there are within the waters, foraſmucch as there are innumerable ſortes of ſuch whereof the aire and earth haue not the like: among all which, in a manner, either pray, or hatred breedeth contention. Yea, moreouer, though theſe ceaſe, yet diſagreement ceaſeth not. For let vs ſee what hartburning there is in loue, what diſagreement in marriage, howe manie complaintes, what ſuſpicion among louers, what ſighes, what paines, what contention betweene maiſters and ſeruantes, who are nothing the leſſe enimies one to another, for that they are houſholde foes, betwene whom there is neuer anie peace to be hoped for, but that which is procured either by death or pouertie. I will not ſpeake of contention betweene brethren, whoſe agreement to be verie rare, the trueth it ſelfe witneſſeth by the mouth of that Famous Poet Ouid: neither of the diſagreement betweene parentes and their children, whereof the Poeme of the ſame Poet maketh mention: But as touching the loue of parents, whoſe good will is moſt tender towardes their children, yet how great their indignation is, it is euident, whileſt they loue them that are good, and lament their caſe, that are euill: and thus in a manner they hate, while they loue hartilie. And as touching the moſt neere and deare bande of the name of brother and father, wee ſee it ſometime to bee without loue, and not ſeldome ioyned with hatred. I will come to the holie name of friendſhippe, which being called in Latine
Amicitia, is deriued from the word Amo, whiche ſignifieth to Loue, ſo that it can neither conſiſt, neither bee vnderſtoode without loue. Nowe, among friendes, although there be agreement in the wordes and endes, yet in the way, and in their actes, what diſagreement and contrarietie of opinions and counſels is there? ſo that Ciceroes diffinition can ſcarce ſtand vpright. For, admit there be good will and loue betweene friendes, notwithſtanding the conſent of all diuine and humane thinges, wherewith he maketh his diffinition complete, is wanting. What then ſhall a man hope for in hatred? For there is hatred in loue, and warre in peace, and agreement in diſcention, which I will proue to be ſo, by thoſe things which are daily before our eies. Beholde the wilde beaſtes, who being inuincible by the ſword, are tamed by almightie loue. Encline thy minde, and marke with what noyſe and murmure the ſhee Lions, Tygres, and ſhee Beares do come vnto that, which of them ſelues they doe moſt willinglie, and thou wilt thinke that they do it not with deſire, but by compulſion. Some wilde beaſtes, while they engender, do make a great noiſe and ſchritching, and ſome keepe a ſturre with their ſwift and ſharpe talantes. Nowe, if we will giue credit vnto that, which certein great men do write of the nature of the viper, howe much contrarietie is there, how great diſcord, when as the male viper vpon an vnbridled (howbeit naturall) ſweetneſſe & pleaſure, putteth his head into the femal vipers mouth, then ſhe being prouoked with a furious heat of luſt, biteth it of? But when this widowe viper, being by this meanes brought great with young, approcheth vnto the time of her deliuerie, by the multitude of her heauie yong ones, which nowe make haſte to come foorth, as it were to reuenge their fathers death, is by them torne in pieces. Thus the firſt coupling of theſe two wormes, aſwell by their generation, as bringing foorth of young, is vnfortunate vnto the whole kinde, and is founde to bee peſtiferous and deadlie: whileſt the engendring ſlayeth the male vipers, and the bringing foorth, the female.
Conſider the orders of Bees in their hiues, what thronging together, what noiſe, what warres, not onely with their neighboures, but among themſelues, what domeſtical conflictes and diſcenſions is there among them? Beholde the neaſtes and houſes of Pigeons, that moſt ſimple birde, and as ſome write, that hath no gall: with what battelles and diſquietneſſe, with what clamour and outcries, I pray you, do they paſſe foorth their life? thou wouldeſt thinke thou were in ſome barbarous and vninſtructed campe, thou ſhalt perceiue them to be ſo vnquiet both day and night: I omitte their inuaſions one of another, yea that verie paire that haue ſeuerally coupled themſelues in the bande of mutuall ſocietie and pleaſure, and for that cauſe are dedicated vnto Venus, with what complaintes are they carried foorth vnto their deſire? how often doth the cocke goe about the hen? and oftentimes the louer forcibly perſecuteth his louer with his winges and bill? I will referre thee vnto the moſt ſafeſt kinde, whereof as the matter is not leſſe, ſo is it alſo leſſe notorious, and leſſe painfull to bee founde. What craft and ſubtiltie then, what wakefull diligence doth the ſpider vſe in taking of ſimple and poore flies in her copwebbe? what nettes doeth ſhe ſet vp for her deceit and rapine? what the Moath ouer the cloth, what the rot ouer the poaſt, what the litle wormes, which daye and night not without weeriſomneſſe, and with a certeine blunt and hollowe noiſe do fret through the bowelles of beames? eſpeciallie of thoſe in felling whereof, the diligent obſeruation of the Moone and ſeaſons hath not bene obſerued? Which common diſcommoditie, as it reigneth our the ſmokie cottagies of the ſimple husbandmen, ſo doth it alſo ouer the golden pendents of princes pallaces, temples, churches, and altars: neither ſpareth it alſo the ſacred richeſſe of Philoſophers, the boordes of bookes, parchementes, and papers. Wherevnto alſo I will adde this much, that vnleſſe there were prouiſion made by pitch and tarre, and a litle burning withall, manie times it is the cauſe of the daunger of ſhipwracke, or of ſhipwracke
it ſelfe: yea, they haue entred into the ſea, & eaten through the plankes of ſhippes, and haue procured great troubles to the vnaduiſed. Againe, what doeth the graſſehopper vnto herbes, the caterpiller vnto corne, or the wilde geeſe to the ripe fruites and graine, or the poore ſparrowe, or the crane that tranſlateth his dwelling, and other importunate kindes of foules? Whereof commeth that ſaying of the Poet Virgil in his Georgikes, whereat I was wont to meruel, but nowe I wonder nothing at all, howe foules are fraide by noyſe making. For nowe vnto him that ſhall happen to dwell in anie place in the countrie in Italie, this one thing is begonne to be one of the manifold ſommer anoyances. For ſo am I my ſelf continually troubled from morning to night with the falling of foules, the ratling of ſtones, and crying out of the huſbandmen. Moreouer, what doeth the mildeawe to the vintage, the blaſt to the herbes, the canker to the leaues, and the moule to the rootes? To be ſhort, the weeuill to the barnes & floores? and the Emot which maketh prouiſion againſt old age come, as the Poet ſaith, what toyle and vnreſt is there in that poore litle creature, that whileſt ſhe prouideth for her owne winter, ſhee troubleth our ſommer? I ſhould be verie ſlowe to beleeue other herein, but I my ſelfe know by experience, with how much not only weeriſomneſſe, but loſſe alſo, that duſtie ſwarme, and which by their haſtie marching doe euermore declare their feare, do not onlie ſpoyle and forrey the fieldes, but alſo cheaſtes, chambers, and ſtorehouſes. And therefore I will nowe begin to beleeue, that in the Piſane cōfines there is a caſtle, which vnto them that ſaile vpon the ſea, ſeemeth to be not farre of, that is become deſolate by meanes of ſwarmes and aboundance of Emotes. The like hereof alſo is reported to haue happened in the Vincentine confines. And I am of opinion that it may be true in anie of them both, or in anie other place whatſoeuer: it hath ſo hapned a late, that they haue not onelie driuen me out of my countrie houſe, but well nigh out of my houſe in the citie, inſomuch that I was faine to vſe the meane of fire and
lime, and at laſt to runne away. And now I verie well beleeue Apuleius, where he ſaith, that there was a man eaten by them, although there want of honie: Neither doe I denie, but that I do wonder, what ſhould be the cauſe, that ſome haue propoſed the Emote to be the patterne of carefulneſſe: concerning which matter, ſome haue made long diſcourſes, cōmending their ſparingnes and induſtrie. Wel then, if all carefulnes bee commendable, perhappes this were a meete example for theeues, and not for ſuch as are willing to liue vpon their own, without doing iniurie to an other. It is a carefull creature in deed, no man can denie it, but wicked, but vniuſt, liuing by rapine, induſtrious in nothing, but that which is euill, ſeruing to no good vſe, but bringing manifold diſcommodities and weariſomues: why therefore they haue propoſed this example, and why they haue commended this litle beaſt? Againe I ſay, I maruel, eſpeciallie when they might haue vſed the exāple of the Bee, which is a moſt induſtrious and prouident beaſt, a creature that hurteth none, but is profitable vnto many, ſuccouring it ſelfe & others by it owne natural art, and moſt noble trauell. What ſhould I nowe ſpeake of the hurtful plentie, and ranck increaſe of branches & leaues of trees, againſt which the wakeful huſbandman giueth his diligent attendance, & lieth in waite, being armed with his ſharpe nailes, & the hedge bruſher with his crooked hooke? what of the burres & briars, and the yeerely returne of plants & rootes, which miniſter perpetual matter of ſtrife and toyle? what of the furious rage of ſhewres of raine, and heapes of ſnowe, and biting of froſtes, and the ſharpneſſe and violence of yce, and the ſuddein violence of flooddes, & the vncertein encreaſes of ſtreames, which many times ſhake whole regions & great peoples: but eſpecially the hedges and fences of the huſbandmen, who among ſo many miſchiefes can ſcarſe paſſe forth this earthlie life, wherein they are euermore bending downe to the ground? And to ſay ſomewhat concerning the diſcommodities and toyles of the delicate & rich ſort: who hath not endured the mightie conflictes of birdes?
Alſo the crying of owles and ſchritches, and the bootleſſe watching of dogges all night barking againſt the Moone, and cattes making their meetings vpon the tyles & toppes of houſes, and the quiet ſilence diſturbed with horrible outcries, and troubling men with their helliſhe clamour, and whatſoeuer elſe maketh anie grieuous noyſe in the darke? Wherevnto may be added, the croaking of frogges and toades in the night, and the lamenting and threatenings of the ſwallowes in the morning: ſo that a mā would thinke that Itys and Tereus him ſelfe were preſent. For as touching the quietnes of birdes by day, the ſqueeking graſſhoppers, the arrogant crowes, and braying aſſes doe diſturbe it, and the bleating of cattell, and the bellowing of Oxen, and the vnwitten cackling of hennes without ſurceaſing, who ſell their ſmall egges for a great price. But aboue al things, is either the crying of ſwine, or the commō clamour and laughter of fooles, than which fooliſh thing, there is nothing more fooliſh, as ſaieth Catullus: and the ſinging and merimentes of drunkardes, than which nothing is more grieuous: and the complaintes of ſuch as are at variance, and the iangling and ſcoulding of olde wiues: and ſometime the battailles, ſome time the lamentation of children: and of weddings, either their vnquiet feaſtes, or their daunſings: and the merrie mournings of wiues, who by craft do ſeeme to lament the death of their huſbands: and the vnfeigned howlings of parentes at the deceaſe of their children: adde herevnto the thronging and noiſe of the court of iudgement, the altercations of Marchants, and ſuch as buie and ſell, at one ſide the ſmall regard, on the other ſide the oathes of the ſellers. Adioine herevnto the ſorrowful ſinging of the workmen to aſwage their painfull trauel: at the on ſide the vnpleaſant Muſick of ſuch as beate & tooſe wooll, & breake it ſmal with the teeth of the cardes: on the other ſide, the hollowe breathing of the ſmithes bellowes, & the ſharpe ſound of their hāmers: whervnto may be added the winter night, which with theſe
trauels is deuided into equall partes, ſo that there is no time free from vnquietneſſe & ſtrife. And to touche ſome deale the kinde of things inſenſible, what hath the loadſtone to do with iron, or the diamond with the loadſtone, the cauſe of whoſe diſagreement, though it be ſecret, yet is their diſagreement manifeſt. For the loadſtone draweth iron, but lay a Diamond by it, and it will leaue to drawe, or let go hold, if it drewe before. The vertue in them both is wonderfull, either in that Nature hath giuen, as it were, hands and hooked nailes vnto an heauie and euilfauoured ſtone againſt a rough and ſtubburne mettal, or whether ſhe take them away vnto her ſelfe by meanes of the other ſtone that lyeth by, which is not the end of the firſt ſtrife, but rather a newe ſtrife. Howbeit, manie denie this laſt thing to be true, and as for me, hetherto I haue wanted occaſion & will to make experiment or proofe thereof: and therefore I can affirme nothing. But as for the firſt, it is ſo well knowen, that there is no neede to proue or auow it. Howbeit, hauing vndertaken a great work, with a mightie courage, in to ſhort a time, and to narrowe a ſpace, I doe nowe eaſilie perceiue that I carrie a greater deſire than ſtrength to the accompliſhing therof. Neither were it an eaſie matter for me or anie man elſe that ſhould take this matter in hande, ſufficiently to diſcourſe vpon euery point, whereby it may appeare, that al things cōſiſt by diſagreement, which whether they be great or ſmall, are verie wonderfull and ſtrange: although I haue not yet touched that which is greateſt, and to be accompted the moſt maruellous from the higheſt to the loweſt of all Natures miracles: but I will nowe touche it in fewe wordes. The Echinus, beeing but a ſmall fiſhe of halfe a foote long, ſtayeth a ſhippe, bee it neuer ſo great, when it is vnder ſayle vppon the Sea, or driuen foorth by oares, being onelie able (of all fiſſhes) to quaile the force of the elementes and men, by none other meanes than by cleauing to the timber of the ſhippe, by none endeuour or ſtrength in the worlde,
but onelie by nature. Which thing, although it be written in the workes of learned and famous authours, yet ſhould it be counted in the number of things incredible, if ſo bee perhaps it were written of the Indian, or Scythian Ocean, & had not rather happened that in our ſeas this wonder had bin knowen to the Romane Emperours. The cauſe of the ſtay was founde by this meanes, in that when an whole fleete of ſhippes was ſetting forth, one of them ſtoode ſtil, as if ſhe had lien at anker, not ſtirring a whit out of her place. Then ſome that were expert, being lette downe into the ſea, eaſilie perceiued the trueth, and there was founde cleauing faſt to the bottome of the rudder, a litle fiſhe, like a ſnaile, whiche was brought away, and preſented to the prince, who diſdained that ſo little a creature ſhould be of ſo great power, but ſpeciallie wondred at this one thing, that when it was receiued into the ſhippe, it had no longer power to worke that effect, which it did when it cleaued to the outſide. But as touching that other kinde of ſtraunge thing, truelie I had rather keepe ſilence, than abſolutely to auerre it, the fame whereof I knowe not howe true it is, but ſurelie it is newe, and for that cauſe the more to bee doubted of. The thing is this: That about the Indian ſea, there is a certeine birde of an incredible bigneſſe, whom our countriemen call a Roche, which is able and accuſtomed to take vp, not onelie a man, but alſo an whole ſhippe in her beake, and to flie away with it into the cloudes, and ſo procureth a terrible death to the wretched people hanging in the aire. See therefore howe great the force of couetouſneſſe is, which not being able to deter the followers thereof from ſayling, neither by manie other perilles, neither by this moſt cruell daunger, maketh them a pray, that are ſo greedie of pray. And nowe alſo to bring ſome inuiſible things to my purpoſe, in what commixtion of contraries conſiſteth wiſhed temperature, among whiche there is a conioyning of repugnant cōtraries for the bringing foorth of the middle vertue: By meanes of whiche differences, and by what diſagreement of voyces doe men
atteine vnto true Muſical concord? Finallie, examine whatſoeuer there is, runne through in thy minde al the heauen, the earth, the ſea: there is like contention in the toppe of the ſkie and the bottom of the ſea, and there is ſtrife in the deepe riftes of the earth, aſwell as in the woddes & fieldes, and aſwell is there perpetuall diſagreement in the deſertes of ſandes, as in the ſtreetes of cities. And now leſt through varietie of matter I wander from my purpoſe, I ſay nothing that at the verie beginning of the world, there was a battel fought in the higheſt of heauen, betweene the ethereal ſpirites: and ſome are of opinion alſo, that they fight yet at this day, in this region of the darke and miſtie aire. I ſay nothing, howe that in the ſame heauenly conflict, the angels that were vanquiſhed, beeing nowe become inferiour to their conquerours, whileſt they endeuour to be reuenged vpon vs mortall men that inhabite the earth, they haue procured vnto vs an immortall warre of ſundrie temptations, with an hard and doubtfull buſineſſe. And, that I may gather together into one ſumme, al things whatſoeuer, hauing ſenſe, or without ſenſe, from the vppermoſt toppe of heauen, as I haue ſaid, vnto the lowermoſt centre of the earth, and from the chiefeſt angell, to the baſeſt and leaſt worme, I omitte to ſpeake, howe there is continuall and euerlaſting ſtrife betweene them. Man him ſelfe, the lord & gouernour of all liuing creatures, who, onely by the rule of reaſon, ſeemeth able to guide in tranquillitie this courſe of life, and this ſwelling and troubleſome ſea, with what continuall ſtrife is he toſſed, not onelie with other thinges, but alſo with him ſelfe, wherof I will ſpeake anon? But now I will intreat of the firſt: for there is no miſchiefe that one man worketh not againſt another, to admit that all other harmes, by what meanes ſoeuer they happen, whether by nature, or fortune, yet, being cōpared with theſe, do ſeeme but light diſcommodities. Which, if I would diſcipher at large, which I would not willingly do, and it is far from my purpoſe, both al the whole ſceane of humane actions were to be opened, & al the hiſtorie of life to be peruſed. But it ſhalbe ſufficient for me to ſay thus much: for if there had
ben neuer any other warres in all the world, but the warres of the Romanes, there had bin warres & ſtrife ynough. Adde moreouer the diſagrement of opinions, & the indiſſoluble knottes and intrications of matters: who is able to reckon vp the varietie of ſectes, or contention of Philoſophers. The warres of kings & nations are at reſt, but the Philoſophers are not at agreement, and they cōtend about a matter, that when it beginneth to be the ones, it ſurceaſſeth to be the others. Theſe men contend for the trueth, which euery one of them cannot haue on his ſide, & this ſtrife neither could the maieſtie of the purchaſed veritie, neither Carneades the Academike, a carefull ſeeker after the Philoſophicall quietneſſe, though in vaine, euer be able to appeaſe. Inſomuch that Anneus Seneca ſeemeth vnto me, not vnfitly to haue writen, where he cōpareth the clocks & dials with Philoſophers, for the like diſcord that is found among thē. Which, howe true it is, whoſoeuer applieth his mind to Philoſophers, & his eares to the clocks, may wel perceiue: neither is the doctrine of other Artiſants in more tranquillitie. what cōtentions are there amōg Grāmarians not yet decided? what cōflicts among Rhetoricians? what alterations among Logicians? Finally, what diſcord in all artes? what clamour among Lawiers? who, how wel they agree, the cō
tinuāce of their cauſes doth ſhew. Of the agrement of Phyſitians, let their patients be iudge. For, that life which they haue pronounced to bee ſhort, by their contentions they haue made moſt ſhort. Moreouer, what deformitie and what diſagreement of opinions is there in the holie rites of the Church and Religion, not ſo much in the woordes of the learned, as in the weapons of the armed, and more often tried in the fielde, than diſcuſſed in the ſcooles? Thus, being but one trueth, in all matters, vnto which as ſaith Ariſtotle, al things are agreeable: yet the opinion of them is verie diſſonant & cōtrarie, that it troubleth the profeſſours of the truth. What ſhall I ſay of the cōmon life and affaires of men? That there are ſcarce two in a citie that do agree, both manie things elſe, but eſpeciallie the great diuerſitie of their houſes & apparell, doeth declare.
For whoſoeuer ſucceeded anie man in an houſe, were hee neuer ſo riche and good an huſband, that hath not neuertheleſſe chaunged manie things in it? ſo that looke what one man had a deſire to builde, another hath a pleaſure to plucke downe: witneſſe hereof may be, the often changing of windowes, damming vp of doores, and the ſkarres, and newe reparations that are done in olde walles. Neither is this true in other things onelie, but we ſuffer it alſo in our owne, whileſt euerie mans opinion and iudgement is contrarie to him ſelfe, according to the ſaying of Horace the Poet, He plucketh downe, and buildeth vp, and chaungeth that which was ſquare, into rounde. By which it may more manifeſtlie appeare, which of vs it is than canne agree with another man, or with him ſelfe. Now the manner and faſhion of our apparell, continueth three whole daies in our cities: and likewiſe the actes and lawes of certeine Municipies or freedomes haue bene ſuch, and of ſo ſmall continuance, that they haue periſhed with their authours. Againe, what diſagreement and contrarietie is there among Captaines about ordering a battell, and among Magiſtrates for making of lawes, and among ſaylers for counſell, and taking aduiſement? And as for this that I ſpake of laſt, I haue learned to be true manie times to my great daunger, whileſt the ſea and heauen threatning death, the darke night and cloudes ouerſpreding the lande and ſtarres of the ſkie, the ſhip leaking and halfe full of water, the ſaylers in the moſt daunger and middeſt of death, fel moſt obſtinately at contention with contrarie endeuours and opinions. Adde herevnto, the contention which is without an aduerſarie: what battails haue Shriueners with parchment, with inke, with pennes, with paper? what, ſmithes with hāmers, with tonges, with the anduile? what, plowmen with their coulter, ſhare, and the cloddes, furrowes, and the oxen themſelues? what, the ſouldiers, I ſay not with their enimie, but with their owne horſes and armour, when as the horſes rebell and waxe obſtinate, and their armour troubleth them and wayeth them downe? what buſineſſe haue they that
ſpeake, and thoſe that write at the mouth of another, whileſt earneſt intention conſtraineth the one to ſpeake manie things vnperfect, and on the one ſide ignorance and vnſkilfulnes, at the other ſide a flitting and vnconſtant wit, alwayes thinking on ſome thing elſe than it hath in hand, hindreth them to conceiue the things that are perfect? But what ſpeake I of euerie ſeuerall thing? There is no handicraſt that is voyd of all difficulties. As for all other, as they haue ſome knowne ſweetneſſe, ſo haue they alſo great ſtore of ſecret bitternes: and of all the thinges that doe delite, there is none without ſtrife. Nowe, what conflictes haue infantes with falles? what contention haue children with their bookes and learning, moſt ſowerly ſowing that, which they ſhall reape moſt ſweetlie? Moreouer, what ſtrife haue yong men with pleaſures? yea, I will ſpeake more trulie, what warres haue they with themſelues, and what contention is there among their affections? There is altogether no ſtrife with pleaſures, but a conſent and agreement, which is worſe than any contention. I ſuppoſe and ſpeake vpon experiēce, that there is no kinde of men, nor age that taſteth more ſtrife, or that ſuſtaineth more inextricable & painfull trouble, no kinde of men that ſeeme more merrie, and none in deede more miſerable and ſorowfull. And laſtlie, in what difficultie and great danger are women in their childe bearing? What contention and wreaſtling haue men continuallie with pouertie and ambition? what great carking for more than is needefull for liuing? And finallie, what euerlaſting warre haue old men with old age & ſickneſſes when death draweth nigh, and all other things and perſons with death alſo, and that which is more grieuous than death it ſelfe, with the continuall feare of death? I might dilate this diſcourſe with a thouſand argumentes of ſundrie matters: but if, as it was thy pleaſure in the firſt booke, thou wilt nowe likewiſe haue this epiſtle to ſtande in the ſteade of a preface, & to be part of this booke, I well perceiue nowe how much this preface exceedeth the meaſure of the booke: and therefore my curioſitie is to bee
bridled, and ſtil to bee ſtayed. And therefore to conclude, all thinges, but ſpecially the whole life of man, is a certeine kinde of contention and ſtrife. But in the meane while, omitting this externall ſtrife, wherof we entreated erewhile, which I would God it were leſſe, & therefore leſſe knowne to all men: how great is the internall contention, not only againſt an other, but as I haue ſaide, againſt our owne kinde, not againſt an other particular perſon, but againſt our ſelfe, and that in this bodily outward couering, which is the moſt vile and baſe part of our ſelues? and euerie one hath continuall warre with him ſelfe in the moſt ſecret cloſet of his minde. For as touching this our bodie, with how contrarie humours it aboundeth and is troubled, enquire of thoſe that are called naturall Phyloſophers: but with how diuerſe and contrarie affections the minde ſtriueth againſt it ſelfe, let euerie one enquire of none other than him ſelfe, and anſwere him ſelfe, with how variable and vncerteine motion of minde hee is drawne ſometime one way, ſome time an other: he is neuer whole, nor neuer one man, but alwayes diſſenting & deuided in himſelfe. For, to ſpeake nothing of other motions, to will, to nill, to loue, to hate, to flatter, to threaten, to mock, to deceiue, to feigne, to ieſt, to weepe, to pitie, to ſpare, to bee angrie, to bee pleaſed, to ſlide, to bee caſt downe, to bee aduanced, to ſtumble, to ſtande vp, to goe forwarde, to turne backe, to begin, to leaue of, to doubt, to erre, to bee deceiued, to be ignorant, to learne, to forget, to remember, to enuie, to contemne, to wonder, to loath, to deſpiſe, and to haue in admiration, and ſuch like, than whiche truly there can bee nothing imagined more vncerteine, and with which the life of man ebbeth and floweth vncerteinly, from the beginning to the ending without intermisſion. For what tempeſts and madneſſe is there in theſe foure pasſions, to wit, to hope or deſire, and to reioice, to feare and to bee ſorie, whiche trouble the poore and miſerable minde, by driuing him with ſodeine windes and gales, in courſe far from the hauen into the middes of the dangerous rocks? Which paſſions, ſome one way, and ſome another, yea diuerſly
diuerſe haue expreſſed in leſſe than in an whole verſe. And as Saint Auguſtine writeth, the Poet Virgil hath compriſed in a moſt knowne veritie: of which pasſions truly I am not ignorant, that more and leſſe may bee ſaid on both ſides. As for me I haue not much ſtudied for ſhortneſſe nor copie, but I haue ſet downe in writing ſuch matter as in order hath offered it ſelfe to me, out of the common courſe of mans life, that I might not werie the Reader, either with ſcarcitie or tediouſneſſe. And let not the name of Fortune grieue thee, which is repeated not onely in the ſuperſcriptions and tytles, but alſo in the woork: For truly thou haſt often heard mine opinion, concerning fortune. But when I foreſawe that this Doctrine was moſt neceſſarie, ſpecially for ſuch as were not furniſhed with learning, I haue vſed in their behalfe the common and knowne woord, not being ignorant, what other men generally, & moſt briefly. S. Hierome thinketh of this matter, where he ſayth, that there is neither Fortune nor deſtinie, ſo that the common ſort ſhall acknowledge and perceiue here their manner of ſpeaking: as for the learned, which are but ſcarce, they will vnderſtand what I meane, and ſhall not bee troubled with the vſuall woord. Of the one part of this twoofold woorke, concerning pasſions and fortune, wee haue ſaide alredie, what wee thought good, & of the other we will now ſpeake, what wee ſhall ſee conuenient.
Of deformitie of the bodie. The first Dialogue.
Sorowe, and Reaſon.
Sorowe.
I
Complaine, that Nature hath dealt verie hardlie with mee, in making me euill fauoured.
Reaſon.
O howe manie fire brandes hath ſhe quenched? howe manie flames hath ſhe repreſſed?
Sorowe.
Nature hath made mee deformed.
Reaſon.
She hath not giuen thee that which might delite thee: if ſhee haue giuen thee that which may profit thee, it is ſufficient, and therefore leaue thy complaintes.
Sorowe.
Nature hath not giuē me the grace of good fauour.
Reaſon.
Shee hath giuen thee nothing that ſicknes might deface, & old age take away: perhaps ſhe hath giuen thee that, which death it ſelfe dareth not touche.
Sorowe.
Nature hath denied me the fauour of the bodie.
Reaſon.
If ſhe haue giuē thee the good fauour of the minde, thou art much beholden to her: contemne that repulſe with a valiant minde, and comfort the offence of the looking glaſſe, with the vprightneſſe of thy conſcience.
Sorowe.
Nature hath enuied me the fauour of the bodie.
Reaſon.
She hath not enuied it thee, but ſhe is aſhamed to giue thee that which is dailie diminiſhed and waſted. True liberalitie is perceiued by a cōtinuing gift. Rotten and tranſitorie giftes couetous perſons do giue: good fauour, which is a fraile and tranſitorie gift of Nature, is giuen vnto fewe for their profit, vnto manie to their deſtruction, but vnto none to their ſafetie and true glorie.
Sorowe.
Bodily fauour is denied vnto me.
Reaſon.
Excellent fauour of the bodie, and honeſtie, do verie ſeldome dwell together vnder one roofe. It is wel wt thee, if the worſe being excluded, thou retein the better geaſt with thee.
Sorowe.
I haue no part of the comelineſſe of good fauour.
Reaſon.
Why art thou ſorie for that, or, what holie or godly matter doeſt thou reuolue in thy minde?
For what cauſe doeſt thou thinke the good fauour of the bodie to be neceſſarie for thee, or not rather altogether burdenſome and hindering? Good fauour hath made manie adulterers, but none chaſt: Manie hath it ledde through the ſlipperineſſe of pleaſures vnto an infamous death, who if they had been euill fauoured, might haue liued without ſhame and danger. What ſay I manie? Yea it hath brought innumerable into trouble, but all welnigh into blame.
Sorowe.
Why hath nature made me deformed?
Reaſon.
To the ende thou ſhouldeſt adorne and make thy ſelfe well fauoured, with that fauour which may remaine with thee in thine old age, in thy bedde▪ in thy beere, in thy graue: and that which may be thine own commendation, not the prayſe of nature, nor of thy parentes. It is more beautifull, to be made beautifull, than ſo to be borne: For the one commeth by chaunce, the other by ſtudie.
Sorowe.
Much deformitie of bodie oppreſſeth me.
Reaſon.
This deformitie of ſome is counted a part of vnhappineſſe and miſerie, Beleeue thou me, the minde is not defiled by deformitie of the bodie, but the bodie adorned by the beautie and fauour of the mind. Then it is not this that oppreſſeth or diſhoneſteth thee, but it openeth the way, and layeth foorth the matter and meane to honeſt the minde, and to riſe aloft through vertue.
Sorowe.
Nature hath brought mee foorth deformed into the world.
Reaſon.
If ſhe had brought forth Helen euill fauoured: or, to ſpeake of Men, if Paris had been borne without good fauour, perhappes Troy had ſtoode to this day.
Sorowe.
I complaine that I was borne euill fauoured.
Reaſon.
But fewe good men haue loued the comelineſſe of the bodie, none haue deſired it, manie haue reiected it: for doing of which, that Tuſcane youth is commended, who of his owne accorde mangled and defourmed the excellent beautie of his well fauoured face, which he perceiued to be ſuſpected of manie, and enimie to his owne good name, and hurtfull to the honeſtie of other: farre vnlike vnto thee, who wiſheſt for that, whereof he diſpoiled him ſelfe, and which fewe did euer enioye without hurt.
Sorowe.
I want good fauour.
Reaſon.
It is more ſafe to want that, by meanes whereof thou mayeſt often fall into a
doubtfull and painfull experiment of thy ſelfe. Comelineſſe & beautie hath hurt manie, it
••
th troubled all, manie a
•••
r ſundrie conflictes it hath made effeminate, and made them eaſie to be ouercome, and thruſt them ouerthwartlie into blame and reproofe.
Sorowe.
My ſtature is deformed, and to lowe.
Reaſon.
This diſcommoditie is not, as thou ſuppoſeſt, to bee complained of: the lowe ſtature is more comelie, light, and nimble.
Sorowe.
My ſtature is verie ſhort.
Reaſon.
Who can gaineſay, that as a bigge man dwelleth in a litle houſe, ſo may a valiant courage in a ſmall bodie?
Sorowe.
My bodie is ſmall.
Reaſon.
Thou lamenteſt, for that thou art not a burden vnto thy ſelfe, but light, and dapper, and actiue vnto all things.
Sorowe.
My bodie is verie ſmall.
Reaſon.
Who euer complained of a ſmall burden? Thou haſt a iuſt cauſe truelie to be ſorie, for that thou art not oppreſſed with the greatnes of the bodie, but onelie haſt a bodie, neither art a burden to thy ſelfe, but an vſuall neceſſarie.
Sorowe.
I am of a contemptible ſtature.
Reaſon.
As nothing is glorious but vertue, ſo nothing is contemptible but vice. Vertue reſpecteth no ſtature.
Sorow.
The ſtature of my bodie is ſmal.
Reaſon.
Vertue requireth not the ſtature of the bodie, but of the minde. If this be long, right, large, magnifical or comelie, whatſoeuer the other be, it ſkilleth not, not only not at home, but not ſo much as in the field at warfare, vnleſſe it ſeeme to be more hurtful. Thou knoweſt how the moſt noble captaine Marius, choſe tough & ſtrōg (not tall) ſouldiers. Which thing how wiſelie, and with howe fortunate ſucceſſe he attempted, his often and great conqueſtes do teſtifie. As for the heigth & talleneſſe of the bodie, it carieth more maieſtie with it, but leſſe force.
Sorowe.
My ſtature is ſhort.
Reaſon.
The ſame hindreth thee not, but that thou mayeſt notwithſtanding be a good and valiant man: yea, if neede were, and fortune ſo ſerued, a King, or an Emperour. For although that Scipio Africane were tall of bodie, and Iulius Caeſar of a loftie ſtature, notwithſtanding Alexander King of Macedonia, and Auguſtus Caeſar;
•
ere but lowe, neither did their ſhortneſſed
〈◊〉
bodie hinder their greatneſſe of minde, nor de
••
act anie thing from their fame.
•••
owe.
I woul
•
〈◊〉
•••
r and greater.
Reaſon.
Ariſe
〈…〉
•••
e, and thou ſhalt bee greater, and
•
a
••
er.
〈…〉
more profitable and eaſie encreaſe.
Sorowe.
I de
••
e to bee well fauoured.
Reaſon.
Learne to loue and wiſhe for that, which is better. It is a fooliſhe part to loue a mans owne danger: and a follie to deſire that, whiche by no meanes canne bee gotten. For, if thou endeuour to bee well fauoured contrarie to the courſe of Nature, thou ſhalt profit no more, than to appeare more deformed.
Sorowe.
I traueill in vaine to bee well fauoured.
Reaſon.
Endeuour to bee good, and that ſhalt thou not doe in vaine. This vertue hath a ſpeciall gift aboue the reſidue, that it may bee gotten, and can not bee taken away. And when other things ſtande at the curteſie of Fortune, and without her cannot bee purchaſed, nor preſerued: vertue onelie is free from her lawes, and the more ſhee ſtriueth, the more brightlie ſhee ſhineth.
Of weakeneſſe. The ii. Dialogue.
Sorowe.
NAture hath made mee weake.
Reaſon.
Like as a ſword of ſteele is couered in a rotten ſkaberd: ſo, many times lyeth there hidde a valiant minde in a craſie bodie.
Sorowe.
I am borne weake.
Reaſon.
Thou art not meete to beare burdens, nor to digge and plowe lande, but for honeſt ſtudies, and iuſt ſuperiorities: So, in a ſhippe, the ſtronger ſort are ſet to handle the axes, but the wiſer to guide the helme. The life of Man being like a ſhippe that
•••
oſſed with the flooddes of affaires, and the de
•••
Sea of the worlde, hath it peculiar oares, and helme: then ſeeing thou art repulſed from the viler functions, conuert thy ſelfe to the more woorthie.
Sorowe.
Nature hath made me a weakeling.
R
••
ſon.
What
〈…〉
•••
ade thee paſſing ſtrong? Is ſtrength a thing tha
•
〈…〉
: Cōmeth it not to paſſe, that the ſtronger the olde age is,
〈◊〉
ſtronger is the ſickneſſe?
And to let paſſe the innumerable chaun
•••
h
•
ich do ſud
••••
ie enfeeble and weaken an whole man: the ſtrength of the
•••
nde is to be wiſhed for, which neither continuance, nor fortune can empaire.
Sorowe.
My bodie is weake.
Reaſon.
Nouriſh and exerciſe thy minde, in her artes which thou doubteſt not to be beſt, and of moſt continuance: as for the labour of the bodie, leaue it vnto huſbandmen, ſailers, and ſmithes.
Sorowe.
I had no ſtrength from the beginning.
Reaſon.
But it is more tollerable neuer to haue had it, than to loſe it: For if thou had haddeſt ſtrength, it would not haue continued, inſomuch as Miloes ſtrength waxed old, and ſo would Hercules haue done if he had liued. But ſo did not the ſtrength of Socrates, nor of Solon, nor of Neſtor, nor of Cato. Exerciſe the better: Nothing can delite a great minde, that doeth not continue.
Sorow.
This poore carcaſe of mine is weake.
Reaſon.
If this inſtrument or veſſell be ſufficient for the ſoule or mind that dwelleth within, then is there ſtrength ynough: For that the bodie was by Nature ordeined to ſerue the minde, there is no man ſo much a ſeruant to the bodie that is ignorant, if ſo be it doe it owne duetie: what doeſt thou accuſe, or what doeſt thou deſire more? For they that are ſtrong of bodie, and weake of witte, are moſt like vnto beaſtes, and manie times, which is a miſerable caſe, are ſeruantes vnto other: and manie times alſo, which is moſt miſerable, and the verie ſumme of humane miſerie, they enforce their minde to be ſlaue to their bodie, and to ſerue it in moſt filthie ſeruitude.
Sorowe.
I haue a weake bodie.
Reaſon.
The true and notable ſtrength of Man, is in his minde: As for the bodie, it is as a man ſhould ſay, a certein houſe of the minde, which, howe ſtrong or weake it is, apperteineth not to the geaſtes, eſpeciallie like to ſoiourne there but a fewe dayes, ſo that it fall not downe: for then neceſſitie conſtreineth them to remoue into another, which is an euerlaſting houſe, when they are driuen out of the firſt. I would ſay more, if thou couldeſt conceiue more, and were not altogether become deafe by the common noyſe, to wit, that the bodie is not the houſe, but the priſon of the minde, not his friende, but his domeſticall foe, for whoſe frailtie thou oughteſt to pray, whereby
thou mighteſt the ſooner be made free, and a conquerour.
Sorrowe.
I haue no ſtrength.
Reaſon.
While thou art in health thou wanteſt none: but if thou be otherwiſe, then haſt thou other cauſe to complaine. Thou meaneſt not then that thou haſt no ſtrength at al, but thou wouldeſt ſay, thou haſt litle ſtrength. Thou art not as ſtrong and ſturdie, as was thy coequal, nor he, as was another, neither that other as ſtrong as an exe or an Elephant: there is a meaſure in euerie mans ſtrength: dame Nature hath moſt bountifullie diſtributed vnto euerie one that which is ſufficient, and is more louing towarde her children, than anie man is toward his owne. Ye cannot complaine of want, but ye complaine of inequalitie. You troubleſome and complaining generatiō, if this ſhould be taken away, the beautie of the world muſt needes periſh. Thus that which is beſt, ye can leaſt abide.
Of ſickneſſe, The iii. Dialogue.
Sorowe.
BVt I am ſicklie.
Reaſon.
I heare that which I looke for, for theſe complaints go alwayes together. But if the fleſhe be enimie to the ſpirit, & one of them ſtriue againſt another, which thing the great friende of trueth, hauing felt within him ſelfe, hath pronounced it truelie in all men, it followeth, that that which hindreth one, helpeth another. But if the ſpirit be better and more noble than the fleſhe, which then we ought moſt ſpeciallie to fauour, thou ſeeſt, and perhaps vnderſtandeſt thy ſtate of bodie, which thou ſayeſt to be feeble, to be in deede moſt proſperous.
Sorowe.
I am ſicklie.
Reaſon.
But ſparingnes is an earneſt exhorter, and a dehorter from licentiouſneſſe, and a miſtreſſe of modeſtie.
Sorowe.
I am ſicke.
Reaſon.
If thy bodily health be good, lay away carefulneſſe, whatſoeuer happeneth to the bodie, thou art in ſafetie.
Sorowe.
My bodie is ſicke and weake.
Reaſon.
Sicknes of the bodie, hath been auaileable vnto the welfare of the minde in manie. That excellent man, who from a lowe degree, from the water, and his fiſhing nettes, was aduaunced to the
ſkies, and made key keeper of the gates of heauen, whoſe onelie ſhadowe draue away the ſickneſſes and infirmities of the bodie, being demaunded ſometime why he ſuffred his owne daughter to be moleſted with a grieuous ſickneſſe, anſwered: It is profitable for her it be ſo. Howe knoweſt thou then, whether it be alſo profitable for thee or not?
Sorowe.
I haue bin long thus ſick in bodie.
Reaſon.
The ſame man of whom I ſpeake, knewe that his daughter might ſoone & ſafely be made whole, and he made her whole, and made her able alſo to heale others. See thou likewiſe that thy health ſeeme certeine and vndoubted vnto thee, and perhaps thou ſhalt be healed. Finallie, as much as in thee lyeth, cure thou thine owne ſoule, and committe the cure of him vnto the heauenlie Phiſition. In ſumme, this one thing will I ſay boldlie: If not for that which ſhall delite, yet at leaſtwiſe hope for that whiche is expedient.
Sorowe.
My bodilie ſtate is painful.
Reaſon.
Then haſt thou that, which will driue away forgetfulneſſe and ſleepe, & expell ſlouthfulnes.
Sorowe.
I am weake.
Reaſon.
Boaſt in thine infirmities, and accompliſh vertue: theſe two thou haſt learned at the mouth of one and the ſelfe ſame maiſter.
Sorowe.
The ſtate of my bodilie health is miſerable.
Reaſon.
An vnpleaſant cōpanion, but faithful, which will often put thee in minde, poinct thee the way, and admoniſh thee of thine eſtate, & which is beſt in dangers, a faithful admoniſher.
Sorowe.
The eſtate of my bodilie health is extreame without remedie.
Reaſon.
Holde thy peace & reioyce, that thou art encloſed in a ruinouſe priſon, out of which thou mayſt depart ſoone, and eaſilie.
Of a baſe Countrie. The iiii. Dialogue.
Sorowe.
I Dwel in a baſe countrie.
Reaſon.
Be thou noble: for there is nothing letteth thee, ſeeing thy coūtries nobilitie hath nothing to do with thine.
Sorow.
I dwel in a ſmal citie.
Reaſon.
Great cities haue alſo ſmal citizens, & for the moſt part conſiſt of ſuch: & ſmal cities in times paſt, haue had great citizens. Yea, Romulus, that was laid forth & nouriſhed in the woods, builded the citie of Rome, that was queene of all cities, which
Catiline being borne in the ſame great citie, went about to ouerthrow.
Sorowe.
I was borne in a ſmall countrie.
Reaſon.
Studie thou to aduance it: there is nothing that ſo much commendeth cities, as the vertue & glorie of the citizens, Who ſo thinketh that this may better be done by the building, or fruitfulnes, or riches, is deceiued. As it is in euery particular mā, ſo is it alſo in cities & kingdomes, & Empires, whom not antiquitie, not towres & walles, not ſtretes, not palaces & churches of marble, not ſtatues, not gold, not precious ſtones, not cāpes ful of armed garizōs, & hauens repleniſhed wt fleetes of ſhips, not martes & pawnes ſtored with outlandiſh marchandize, and euerie ſea round about cut & turmoiled for deſire of gaine: laſtlie, not the beautie, or nūber of the inhabitants, not the plentie of al things, & the markets flowing with meate, not the ſumptuous apparell of the men, & coſtlie making & faſhion thereof, not ſtatelineſſe, not delites, not pleaſures, but vertue onlie maketh noble, & the fame of valiant exploites, which men do purchaſe, not walles.
Sorowe.
I am a citizen of a ſmall freedome.
Reaſon.
Knoweſt thou not that Bias was a Prienian borne, Pythagoras a Samian, Anacharſis a Scythian, Democritus an Abderite, Ariſtotle a Stagyrite, Theophraſtus a Leſbian, and Tullie an Arpinate? Chous, which is but a ſmall Iland in the Egeum ſea, brought forth Philitis, who was no baſe Poet, and alſo the father of Phiſitions, & the primes of keruers and painters, namely, Hippocrates, & Phidias & Apelles: that it may be vnderſtood, how that the litleneſſe & narrowneſſe of places, is no hinderance to the greatneſſe & excellēcie of wits.
Sorow.
My countrie is vnnoble.
Reaſon.
Endeuour thou aſmuch as in thee lieth, to make it noble, which thou mayeſt doe, if thou liſt, foraſmuch as it cannot make thee noble. For the baſeneſſe of their countrie was neither a barre vnto Numa Pompilius, to keepe him from the Romane kingdome, neither Septimus Seuerus frō the Empire. Although Auguſtus, the moſt excellent of all men, came of later time of a Romane generation, for that hee was borne in the palace, notwithſtanding the more ancient deſcent his familie was frō the citie Velitrae. Caius coū
trie was Anthium, & Veſpaſians Reatinū, an obſcure village.
But contrariwiſe, Achilles aduaūced the Laciſſean fame: And the Pelean name, which had been baſe and obſcure many hundred yeeres before, which was renowmed by Philip, Alexander aduaunced to the ſkies. It is not ynough that the obſcureneſſe of the countrie hurt not the inhabitantes, vnleſſe the worthineſſe of the inhabitantes doe good to the countrie. Rome was a baſe ſanctuarie, and a thing builded by ſhepheardes, and neuer became famous, vntill it began to be renowmed for valiant exploites, and excellent vertue of the citizens.
Sorowe.
I am bounde to an obſcure countrie.
Reaſon.
Lighten the candle of vertue, whereby thou mayſt ſhine in the darke, wherin at the leſtwiſe thou ſhalt gaine this commoditie, that at leſtwiſe thou ſhalt ſhine verie much with a ſmall light, & ſo ſhall it either make thee noble, or thou it.
Sorowe.
I dwel in a baſe countrie.
Reaſon.
Be thou likewiſe lowlie and humble, and let the minde that dwelleth within thee, be lowlie. Thou haſt an example of a publique mother, extende not thy ſelfe broader in thy neſt, than by thoſe wings which vertue hath giuen thee: Theſe it is lawfull for thee to vſe, and that manie haue vſed them with good ſucceſſe, I declared erewhile. And therefore ſo long as thou ſhalt bee a mortall man, at leaſtwiſe holde faſt this bridle of inſolencie. Some men are proude onelie vppon the nobilitie of their natiue countrie: but thoſe are a fooliſhe kinde of people.
Of baſeneſſe of ſtocke. The v. Dialogue.
Sorowe.
I Am borne of baſe and obſcure parentes.
Reaſon.
Thy ſtate perhaps is not ſo odious, as thou ſuppoſeſt: I cannot tell whether it were a wiſhed matter to bee borne obſcure: conſider thou bath wayes of life. For whether thou determine to followe pleaſures, and the common way, whiche the vulgare ſort doe enſue, the errour ſhalbe the more excuſable which wanteth domeſticall leaders, and then ſhall ceaſe that moſt bitter improprietie of ſuch as degenerate from their noble parentes, in that thou haſt no nobilitie at home which thou
maiſt make obſcure. Or, if thou chooſe rather with ſingular ſteppes to followe the pathes of vertue, thou ſhalt by ſo much become the more noble, the greater the darkneſſe is, out of which thou art riſen, wherewith before thou were oppreſſed & compaſſed round about, and ſo the whole nobilitie ſhalbe thine, and there ſhalbe none partaker thereof with thee. Imitation ſhall take from thee no part of thy glorie: thy parentes ſhall defraude thee of none, neither thy grandfathers nor great grandfathers, thy counſellers nor maiſters: whatſoeuer thou haſt done well, thou ſhalt reape the glorie thereof alone, thou onelie ſhalt be commended for it, and ſhalt be called the beginner and firſt founder of thy familie, which could not be, if thou were borne noble. Doeſt thou ſee then what occaſion thou haſt offred vnto the
••
of newe prayſe: to wit, to become noble of thy ſelfe, and to g
••
e nobilitie vnto others, not to receiue it? Thou ſhalt purchaſe this vnto thy poſteritie, that they ſhalbe borne noble, which thy parentes gaue not vnto thee. It is a great deale better to founde nobilitie, than to finde it founded by others.
Sorowe.
My beginning is newe and rude.
Reaſon.
Howbeit, that ſhepheardlie founder of the citie of Rome was accompted more noble, for that hee builded his fort in the wooddes, and couered his ſmall and baſe palace with poore thatch, than ſo manie princes and Emperours that came afterward, and erected their huge citie walles, their vautes and roughes of their houſes of marble and golde: ſo great alwaies is the commendation of famous newneſſe, and a great beginning.
Sorowe.
I am borne of a baſe beginning.
Reaſon.
Studie then, that thine ende may be noble. About the beginnings is trauell, and in the ende commeth the fruite, whiche if it be gathered before it be ripe, it cannot long continue.
Sorowe.
Vnnobleneſſe hath cut of the roote of my glorie.
Reaſon.
Nay, it hath not cut it of, but it hath digged it deeper about, that it may riſe more ſtronglie, though more lately, Howbeit, I can recite vnto thee out of all ſortes of men, ſome not vnnoble onelie, but vnknowne alſo, who through vertue and diligence became moſt noble. And truelie if vertue make a man noble in deede, I do not perceiue what ſhould lette anie man
that is willing to be made noble, or what thing is ſo eaſie to make other noble, as to make a mans ſelfe ſo.
Sorow.
I deſcend from vnnoble parentes.
Reaſon.
What ſayſt thou to Socrates, Euripides, Demoſthenes? Whereof the firſt had a Marbler to his father, the ſecond a midwife to his Mother: the laſt was not only borne of baſe parentes, but alſo of vncertein. As for your countreiman Virgill, he deſcended of rude and homely parentes of the Countrie: neither was Horace aſhamed that his father had bin ſometime a bondman, and was made free, and alſo a common crier: notwithſtanding they came both vnto great glorie, and obteined the fauour of a great Emperour, in ſuch ſorte, that he vnto whom all Kinges had ſubmitted them ſelues, at whoſe handes all great thinges were ſued for, and from whom the hope of all men, in a manner, throughout the whole world, but ſpecially of the nobilitie, did depend, and finally, whoſe familiare acquaintance was reputed a great matter, yea among the greateſt men, euen he, I ſay, would require in ſweet and flattring Epiſtles, as if it had bin ſome great matter, the friendeſhip and companie of theſe two vnnoble perſons, whom the Mantuan & Venuſine Countries had ſent to Rome. And howe manie noble men were there, as we may iudge, at that time in the Palace (as for the moſt part there were plentie, that were vnprofitable & vnlearned,) vnto whom the nobilitie of theſe noble men did not ſeeme woorthily vnnoble and to bee enuied at?
Sorow.
I come of obſcure parentes.
Reaſon.
Theſe examples mooue not thy minde: I will therefore vſe higher. Marcus Cicero, as it is written of him, being borne of the familie and race of knightes, from a lowe beginning by notable actes and honeſt degrees, came to the Conſulſhip, thē whoſe time of Conſulſhip, I can not tell whether there were euer any more profitable to the common wealth.
Sorow.
I come of a ruſtike and vnknowne race of anceſtours.
Reaſon.
Theſe are little worth I perceiue: thou aſpireſt now higher. Truly Marius was alſo a ruſticane of the countrey, but a man in deede, as ſayth his countrieman Cicero, & had bin of long time an huſbandman among the people called Marſi, who was afterward ſeuen times Conſul of
Rome, with ſo great glorie, that his ſaide countrieman, although hee were his friende, ſaid truelie, That hee twiſe deliuered Italie from beſieging, and feare of ſeruitude. And Marcus Cato, a man of meane beginning, beeing long time an obſcu
•
e inhabitant of a ſmall Towne, and afterwarde a moſt famous ſtranger in the greateſt Citie, ſhortly after, of an excellent citizen, was made Conſull and Cenſor. But if this bee not ynough, and perhappes thou hopeſt for a kingdome: truelie, neither doeth the baſeneſſe of a mans beginning forbidde him to hope for the ſame by ſentence of deſert: Herein call to remembrance the thirde, and the fift, and the ſixt of the Romane Kinges. Tullus Hoſtilius, as approoued authours doe write, although other ſome doe report no ſuch matter of him, beeing an infant, was brought vppe in a poore cotrage, and in his youth was a ſheephearde. Tarquinius Priſcus had to father a ſtranger Merchant, neither came of anie Italian familie. Seruius Tullus, was borne of a ſeruile or bonde woman, although as ſome ſay, ſhee was a captiue, and as other affirme, a noble woman, and by meanes of his vertue, deſerued the kingdome of Rome. Neither wilt thou maruell, if thou vnderſtoodeſt the ſaying of Plato: That there is no King, but hee came of bonde men, and no bondemen, but hee deſcended of kinges.
Thus the affaires of men, and thus long continuance and Fortune hath confounded all thinges. I ſay nothing of the kinges of other Nations, and of thoſe, who from the flockes of cattell, and the exerciſe of moſt vile actes, haue ben aduaunced ſode inlie vnto a kingdome. Alexander the king of Macedonie, made a gardener a king in Aſia: and this was not one of the leaſt commendable actes which he did. And on the other ſide, I ſay nothing of them that haue fallen from the toppe of a kingdome vnto the bottome of ſeruitude. Thus Fortune gouerneth her affaires, notwithſtanding vertue may do much: for by her, men riſe ſafelie vnto the higheſt degrees, whoſe pathes being forſaken, let princes know, that they ſtand in tickle ſtate, and that not onelie their decaye is at hande, but alſo their ruine.
What calamitie then, that I may returne againe vnto thee, of birth is this from which neither hope of reigning, neither the effect is taken away?
Sorowe.
I am ſprung from a baſe roote.
Reaſon.
Euerie roote is obſcure and euill fauoured, from which neuertheleſſe faire and flouriſhing branches doe ſpring forth: it is not ſo much demaunded from whence a thing commeth, as what manner of thing it is.
Sorowe.
I am deſcended of baſe parentes.
Reaſon.
I perceiue that thou reuokeſt my ſtyle vnto the higheſt empire. Septimus Seuerus, of whom I ſpake before, ſprong from the degree of knightes. Helius Pertinax, being alſo the ſonne of a bondman made free, and a baſe traficquer in the trade of buying & ſelling of wood, did both of them gouerne the Romane Empire: as alſo did Philip the father and the ſonne, being Arabians, of verie baſe condition and birth, and Maximinius and Maximus likewiſe, whereof the firſt was borne of moſt obſcure and barbarous parentage, and were both aſhamed when they had taken vppon them the gouernement of the Empire: and for the latter, whether his father were a ſmith or a carpenter, it is vncerteine. Verilie, Veſpaſian, who is reckoned among the good Emperours, from no noble ſtocke, becomming moſt noble, both gouerned the common wealth worthily, and alſo left two ſonnes behinde him, one ſucceeding another, to be his ſucceſſours in the Empire, and the one of his vertue: howbeit, what doe I ſtay vpon theſe ſmall matters, ſince there is much ambiguitie about the original and birth of Auguſtus Caeſar him ſelfe? To be brief, certein it is, that the courſe of Mans fortune, is not preuented by birth: a man may riſe by anie meanes, whether Fortune reache him her hande, or vertue.
Sorowe.
My ſtocke is to lowe and baſe.
Reaſon.
As much as concerneth the degree of humane power, wee haue ſet downe examples, aboue which we cannot poſſiblie go higher: yet there reſteth one, not for kingdome or Empire, but in reſpect of another certein maieſtie, verie memorable. Ventidius Baſſus, an Eſculane, beeing borne of a baſe mother, and an vnknowen father, his countrie being taken, and he a yong man, was in the triumphe of Gneius Pompeius Strabo, who was father vnto Pompeius
the great, brought away among other pryſoners: the ſame man afterwarde, fortune chaungyng her countenance, beyng made generall ouer the people of Rome, fought with moſt proſperous ſucceſſe, agaynſt the Parthian King, that was become proude by reaſon of his auncient power and late conqueſt, and hauyng ſlaine the Kinges ſonne, and diſcomfited the power of the enemie, whiche thing the deſtinies had graunted before that tyme vnto none of the Romane captaines, taking reuenge on that famous ſlaughter of the Romans, & moſt magnificently requiting the death of the Craſſi, hym ſelfe being a conquerer and triumphing, beautified that Capitol with his owne charrets, wherin being a captiue, he had ſomtime furniſhed the triumphant charrets of another, and filled the Romane priſon with the armie of this captiue enemies. And that this ſpectacle might be the more acceptable, and the conqueſt more woonderfull, it was gotten the ſame day, as the courſe of the yeeres came about, vpon which the moſt terrible ſlaughter was receiued at Carras. Who is ſo ambitious, and greedie of a kingdome, that he had not rather haue this glory without a kingdome, then a kyngdome without this glory? And what, I pray thee, hyndred Ventidius from atteynyng to felicitie and great honour, although he were borne of baſe ſtocke, and in the fyrſt part of his lyfe were at lowe ebbe, and in miſerie? Truely that man whom Eſculum dyd contemne, Rome dyd regard, and matched that obſcure name of a ſtranger with the famous names of her noble Citizens. Theſe are the ſteppes to riſe by, theſe are the degrees vnto vertue, wherby men are aduaunced, not only vnto glory and higher fortune, by endeuouring, hopyng, watchyng, but alſo enthronized within heauen. And therefore thou that art meanely borne, endeuour to ryſe, reſtyng thy firſt and laſt ſtep within the entrie vnto vertue, not declyning any whyther, nor ſtaying.
Sorow.
My begynnyng is lowe.
Reaſon.
That is nowe paſt, thynke vppon the thynges that doo folowe: neyther am I ignorant, that as the firſt and laſt dayes of a mans lyfe haue ſeemed vnto ſome principally to gouerne the ſtate of humane affayres, or as they ſpeake, to comprehende and conteyne it: veryly I wyll eaſily agree vnto the firſt, although vnto the ſeconde I cannot ſo wyllyngly conſent. For
although, as they affirme, it ſkilleth muche, with what good lucke a thyng be begunne: although the Satiricke Poet thynking vppon ſuche matters, hath thus written, whereas he ſpeaketh of Ventidius: For it auayleth muche, what conſtellation receiue a man when he beginneth to yeelde foorth his fyrſt noyſe, and commeth away redde from his mothers wombe.
Notwithſtandyng we deny theſe thinges, and theſe proſperous ſignifications, and this ſo great force of the ſtarres we renounce, aſcribyng all thinges vnto the moſt gloryous Creatour of the ſtarres, among whoſe creatures we ſeclude none from this path of vertue, felicitie, and glory.
Sorowe.
The baſeneſſe of my ſtocke is very great.
Reaſon.
And what ſayſt thou to that? Wouldeſt thou rather haue thy pryde be muche? Or what hereby dooeſt thou thynke to be wantyng vnto thee, vnleſſe thou wouldeſt alſo fayne declare thy madneſſe, by the ſmoky images, and mangled ſtatues that muſt be erected in thy courtes and galleryes, and as it were charnell houſe of thy predeceſſours and familie, ſtandyng full of rotten titles for a gazing ſtock to them that ſhall paſſe by, whereby thou mayeſt fabulouſ
•
y diſcourſe with a proude looke in the open ſtreates, of thoſe whom thou neuer kneweſt?
Sorowe.
I am borne vnnoble.
Reaſon.
Not only to be borne vnnoble, but ſo to lyue alſo, haue ſeemed felicitie vnto ſome. Haſt thou not read at leaſtwyſe in the Tuſculane whiche Cicero hath erected, the Anapaeſtus of the moſte mightie Kyng, prayſyng an olde man and callyng hym fortunate, in that he was ingloryous, and lyke to continue vnnoble and obſcure vnto his lyues ende?
Of a ſhamefull byrth. The vi. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
MY byrth is not only baſe, but alſo ſhameful.
Reaſon.
There is one only true and great ſhamefulneſſe of the mynde: yf thou take that away, all thynges are fayre.
Sorowe.
I am yll borne.
Reaſon.
He
that lyueth well, is borne well, and dyeth wel: But he that lyueth yll, cannot be well borne. For, what ſkylleth it in how bryght a path a blynde man walke? Or what auayleth it from whence a man come, yf he come into miſerie and reproche?
Sorowe.
I was borne in ſinne.
Reaſon.
The moſte excellent man bewayleth this matter, and truely euery man is borne in ſyn. But beware that you heape not more grieuous ſynnes one vppon another, although there be alſo meanes to clenſe them: Howbeit that fyrſt deformitie many tymes at the firſt entrance into this lyfe, is waſhed away in the ſacred fountayne of Baptiſme, and the ſoule by clenſyng made as white as Snowe.
Sorowe.
My parentes ill beget me.
Reaſon.
What belongeth it vnto thee who haue begotten wel, ſo thou be wel borne, vnleſſe thou ioyne thy wyckedneſſe vnto the wickedneſſe of another.
Sorowe.
I am aſhamed of my fylthy begynnyng.
Reaſon.
Then doo I not marueyle that you be proude of that which is anothers, and alſo that you be aſhamed of that which is not your owne: and generally yee repoſe your good and euyll thynges in any place or perſon, rather then in your ſelues, whiche notwithſtandyng can be in none other then your ſelues. And vnleſſe thou thy ſelfe haſt committed ſome vyle and ſhamefull deede, what fault is there in thee, or what rebuke, to haue ha
•
de a diſhoneſt father? Beware then, that thou be not heyre vnto thy father in his lewdneſſe, but ſtudie in that behalfe to be farre vnlyke hym. He that begate thee, thou not beyng priuie thereof, coulde not imprynt his ſpottes vppon thee agaynſt thy wyll within thee, and from thee it muſte needes come, that ſhall make thee obſcure or noble.
Sorowe.
I am borne into the worlde by diſhoneſt parentes.
Reaſon.
All parentes ought to ſeeme honeſt vnto theyr chyldren, but as they are to be feared, ſo are they not all to be folowed of theyr chyldren: for ſome tyme I woulde geue them counſayle to forſake them. Thus muſte thou otherwhyle take a contrary courſe, and yf he be a naturall father, he wylbe content to be forſaken, and wyll deſyre to haue hym ſelfe loued, but not his faultes. This is only the deuiſed way, by whiche to ſuppreſſe and treade vnderfoote
theyr parentes name is a glorious and honeſt deede in the chyldren, to lyue otherwyſe then they dyd, that is to ſay, more continently, and holyly. Let the chyldes tongue conceale the parentes diſhoneſtie, let not his vnlykeneſſe of lyfe, manners, and deedes, be ſilent. It is a great commendation to the ſonne, when it ſhalbe ſayde behynde his backe, O howe muche is this young man more modeſt then the olde man his father: and contrarywyſe, there is no blemyſh more greeuous in the wantonneſſe of olde men, then to compare it with the continency of youth. And truely, yf the honour of the parentes be burdenſome to the chyldren that lyue yll, with howe great a weight dooth the prayſe of the chyldrens honeſtie, preſſe downe the infamie of the yl lyuyng parentes?
Sorowe.
I was begotten in vnlawful and condemned luſt.
Reaſon.
But it were better for thee to haue a deſire to be, and ſo to be reputed the honeſt ſonne of an vnhoneſt father, rather then the vnhoneſt ſonne of an honeſt father. For in all prayſe or diſprayſe, thoſe thinges are moſt chiefly to be regarded, whiche are a mans owne. There is no man iuſtly reproued or prayſed for that whiche is anothers: although as I haue ſayde, whatſoeuer is in you, it wyll be the more euident, yf it be ſet by his contrary. For, as euery one is worthyly prayſed or diſprayſed, ſo is the very and proper cauſe of prayſe or diſprayſe within hymſelfe. But as one man is ſlayne with anothers ſwoorde, and one mans goodes burned by another mans fire, ſo hapneth it not that one mans good name periſheth by another mans fault, for that the goods of the minde are more permanent then the goods of the body, or of fortune, ſo that they cannot be hurt or taken away agaynſt the wyl of the owner.
Sorow.
I was begotten agaynſt ryght, and law.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt doone nothyng agaynſt the law, but thy parentes haue, and therefore henceforward do euery thyng according to the lawe. In this reſpect thou haſt committed none offence at all concernyng thy birth houre, but of thine owne manners thou thy ſelfe ſhalt yelde an accompt. And although in reuenge of wandring venerie the force of the ciuyl lawes is extended vnto the innocent chyldren, notwithſtandyng GOD meaſureth euery one within his owne boundes, neyther imputeth the chyldes offence vnto the father,
neyther the fathers vnto the chylde. And that Philoſophie iudgeth otherwyſe of this matter then do the lawes, thou haſt learned of the Philoſophers them ſelues. Being then beaten downe by the lawes, and erected agayne by the iudgement of GOD, and the Philoſophers, thou haſt wherewith to comfort thy mynde: neyther as thou art reſtrayned from a priuate patrimony, ſo art thou barred from the publique inheritaunce of vertue. For the one of theſe deſcendeth by the ordinaunce of man, the other is geuen by deſart: and before thou were borne, as thou deſeruedſt no glory, ſo truely dyddeſt thou merite none infamie.
Sorowe.
Myne Originall is vnlawfull and inceſtous.
Reaſon.
What may be borne of inceſt, or what of adulterie, for proofe be Romulus and Alcides. Perſes was Kyng of Macedonie, and lugurtha Kyng of Numidia, and both of them expulſed theyr lawfull brethren out of theyr kyngdomes, by euyll vſage, and moſt vyle meanes, but they expulſed them notwithſtandyng. Alexander Kyng of Macedonie, that was called Philippes ſonne, yet whoſe in deede he was ſuppoſed to be, thou haſt hearde, and alſo how Philip, towardes the latter ende of his lyfe, was woont ſometyme to ſay, that Alexander was not his ſonne. Whiche thyng his wyfe Olympias of her owne accorde confeſſed vnto hym, and for that cauſe he was diuorſed from her, as ſome aucthours haue written. Conſtantius hym ſelfe, beyng borne of a noble Concubyne, was aduaunced vnto the Empyre before his brethren that were lawfully begotten. Vnto theſe woulde I adde Kyng Arthure, vnleſſe that to myngle Fables with Hiſtories, were nothyng els then to dimyſhe the credite of the trueth with lyes. To be ſhort, there is no cauſe why thy byrth ſhoulde diſcourage thee: Howeſoeuer men are borne, yf vertue aduaunce them, they haue glory yenough.
Sorowe.
I am yll borne.
Reaſon.
Lyue well, and dye well: howſoeuer thou were borne, it belongeth not to thee, neyther canſt thou remember it: neyther enquyre muche after that whiche belongeth not vnto thee, vnleſſe it be to make thee more humble and mecke, but not more ſorowfull.
Sorowe.
I was
borne fylthyly.
Reaſon.
Courteous behayour, and an honeſt lyfe, doo not only take away all blemyſhes, but all remembrance of a ſhameful byrth. Ʋſe this remedie while thou mayeſt, for beleeue me, thou haſt none other.
Sorowe.
I am aſhamed of my parentes infamie.
Reaſon.
Put away this ſhame, for there is one father of all men, whiche is GOD: and one mother of all men, whiche is the earth.
Of Bondage. The vii. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Entred a bondman into this lyfe.
Reaſon.
Be not ſory, thou ſhalt depart a free man, yf thou wylt thy ſelfe, as many haue doone, who contrarywyſe haue entred free, and departed bonde.
Sorowe.
I was ſeruylely borne.
Reaſon.
Lyue freely, there is nothyng letteth thee, for the better part of thee, to be free. There is one moſt grieuous kynde of bondage, whiche is ſynne, that is not able notwithſtandyng to oppreſſe men agaynſt theyr wylles: caſt of that, and thou ſhalt be free.
Sorowe.
Fortune woulde needes make me a bondman.
Reaſon.
Thine owne wil may make thee otherwiſe, for although ſhe vſe her olde cuſtome, neuertheleſſe thou knoweſt what to hope for. Thou knoweſt what a monſter ſhe is, thou knoweſt her toyes and paſtymes, it lyeth in thee not only to become a free man, but alſo Lorde ouer thy maiſter: although what ſhe wyll or wyll not, it ſkylleth not, and albeit ſhe be inexorable, as ſome tyme ſhe is, neuertheleſſe ſhe hath no power ouer the mynde: and in euery conflict agaynſt her, we muſt requyre ayde of her enimie. Many tymes whom fortune hath made bonde, vertue hath made free.
Sorowe.
I am oppreſſed with grieuous ſeruitude.
Reaſon.
Who ſo wyllyngly beareth the yoke, maketh it lyght. I wyll tell thee a ſpeciall comfort and an euerlaſtyng ſtay, whiche when thou art exempted from the controulement of thy mightie maiſter, wyll
make thee a free man, and rycher then thy maiſter hym ſelfe: apply the ſtudie of wyſedome, and ſhe wyll ſet thee at libertie. It is the ſaying of Cato, confyrmed by Cicero, That only the wyſe man is free, namely, by that libertie, then which there is none more aſſured.
Sorowe.
I leade my lyfe vnder moſt harde maiſters.
Reaſon.
They ſhalbe made gentle by no meanes more, then by faythfulneſſe and diligence, and perhaps in ſuche ſort, whiche hath hapned vnto many, that therehence thou ſhalt gayne libertie, where nowe thou bewayleſt thy bondage, and peraduenture by ſome other meanes, and from ſome other place. For ſome one is made free by his temporall maiſter, and ſome by the Eternall. Thou knoweſt, with howe great daunger Malchus eſcaped the threatnynges of his maiſter that perſecuted hym, but neuertheleſſe he eſcaped hym: In the meane whyle thynke thus of thy maiſter, that he maynteyneth thee, and hath taken vpon hym al the care ouer thee, whiche carefulneſſe to leeſe a mans libertie, what is it to be called other then a profitable diſcommoditie? Ʋnto many, theyr libertie hath been bonde, and theyr bondage free. The yoke of men is not ſo greeuous, as the yoke of cares: who ſo can ſhake of the one, may indifferently beare the other. Ʋnto this man art thou a ſeruaunt, vnto hym art thou only bounde, yea he is bounde vnto thee, he is thy maiſter, or rather thy ſtewarde. Thou ſhalt not be aduaunced vnto publique prefermentes, neyther ſhalt thou ſuſtayne publique charges, nor counterfeite a careful mynde to the common wealth, thou ſhalt not be toſſed with troubles and ſuites of Court and controuerſies, neyther be turmoyled with the vncertaynetie of aduiſementes, and counſelles: no ſlowneſſe of ſaylyng, no barrenneſſe of f
•
eides, no dearth of victualles ſhall moleſt thee: Theſe troubles leaue vnto thy maiſter, and many tymes thou ſhalt ſleepe farre more ſoundly then be.
Sorowe.
I haue a frowarde and imperious Lorde.
Reaſon.
Thynke with thy ſelfe, that he was alotted vnto thee not without cauſe. Therfore, whatſoeuer tuſt thyng he commaundeth, thynke that God hym ſelfe commaundeth it. But yf he commaunde any vniuſt thyng, it behooueth thee to thynke vppon the great Lorde,
who as he ſuffereth thee to be a ſeruant vnto honeſt though painefull affayres, ſo wyl he haue thee be free from diſhoneſt: wherin this would I haue thee to vnderſtande, that there is one that woulde haue the ſeruantes of the moſt glorious princes of the earth, and of the true religion, to be obedient vnto their carnal maiſters in al thinges: and another that commaundeth them to be ſubiect vnto them in al feare, adding this moreouer, that they yeelde it not only vnto good and modeſt maiſters, but alſo vnto the wicked, for it is not meete for the ſeruaunt to iudge of his maiſter, but to beare with his manners whatſoeuer they be. For the more outragious the maiſter is, the more appeareth the ſeruantes patience, and this is the cauſe, that the one of them maketh mention of this matter: but as they muſt ſuffer theyr manners, ſo ought they not alwayes obey theyr commaundementes. For there are ſome thynges that may moſte iuſtly be refuſed to be doone, yf they be repugnant to the pleaſure of the heauenly Lorde and maiſter: with whom if this thine earthly maiſter be compared, he is no longer thy maiſter, but thy felow ſeruant, and ſo ought to be reputed. Thus therefore, let ſeruantes obey their maiſters in al thynges that they commaunde that are iuſt, let no payne nor difficultie ſtay them, no labour hinder them, nor diſcourteſie nor rewarde denyed, or whiche is the moſte bytter thyng of all, no punyſhment inflicted. Let them obey them in all thynges, ſo that iniury and diſhoneſtie be away: otherwyſe ſtubbornneſſe and libertie, and the breſt and throate muſte be ſet agaynſt theyr vniuſt and diſhoneſt commaundementes, and that muſte be kept in remembraunce, whiche another of the promyſers ſayeth, who when he hadde commaunded that ſeruauntes ſhoulde obey theyr maiſters in all thynges, he addeth, Not ſeruyng to the eye as men pleaſers, but in ſingleneſſe of hart, fearyng the Lorde. Hereby thou ſeeſt, what is the ſtate of thy degree: he is not altogeather a ſeruaunt, that cannot be compelled to obey wycked beheaſtes.
Sorowe.
I ſerue a proude Lorde.
Reaſon.
Howe knoweſt thou whether he ſerue the hygheſt Lorde: Perhappes he is ſeruaunt to his wyfe, perhaps to his Harlot, perhaps to thoſe that are vnder his gouernment:
how many ſee we dayly that are ſeruauntes vnto theyr vnderlynges: Laſt, whiche is the moſt greeuous bondage of all, perhappes he is ſeruaunt to hym ſelfe, that is to ſay, to his owne vices, and paſſions, and violent affections. What ſhall I ſay: In trueth there are but fewe free, and thoſe that are free, the more paynefull theyr lyfe is, the higher it is. It is muche more prompt and eaſie to accomplyſhe the duetie of a ryghteous kyng, then of a faythfull ſeruaunt. It is an excellent ſaying of Diocletian while he was a priuate perſon and iudged of that which was paſt, and had learned muche by experience, That there is nothing more hard, then to gouerne an Empire: for whiche it may be thought he refuſed longer to be Emperour. Therefore embrace thou thy callyng gladly, whiche I confeſſe to be baſe and lowe, but eaſie and quiet, vnleſſe thou thynke it an happier matter to ſtande panting in open ſyght, then to lye and reſt in a chamber.
Sorowe.
My Fortune hath enforced mee into bondage.
Reaſon.
Doo that willingly, whiche thou muſt needes doo: that counſayle alſo is well knowen, and moſt fyt for humane neceſſities, Deſyre that, which thou muſt needes, and ſo thou ſhalt fruſtrate the force of neceſſitie: beare the burden of Fortune patiently, whiche ſome haue doone of theyr owne accorde, and haue choſen to be bonde them ſelues, to delyuer other from bondage. Among whiche ſort, moſt famous is the name of Paulinus Byſhop of Nola, whoſe voluntarie ſeruitude, as it ought, had happie ſucceſſe. Certayne haue ſolde them ſelues for a ſmall price, to the entent that beyng made bonde, they myght redeeme their maiſters from the bandes of ſinne, and bryng them into true libertie, for whiche deede one Serapion an Egyptian Eremite, is muche renowmed: Theſe examples ſhall doo thee more good, then monynges. Attempt thou ſome ſuche lyke matter, by meanes whereof thy ſeruitude may be profitable to others, or at leaſtwyſe to thy ſelfe. Not to wyſhe for that whiche thou haſt not, but to vſe well that whiche thou haſt, is the part of a wyſe man. The one of theſe hapneth vnto all men, the other but to fewe.
Sorowe.
I beyng a mortall man, am ſeruaunt to a mortall Maiſter.
Reaſon.
Begynne to ſerue the immortall Lorde: he promiſeth thee libertie and a kyngdome, although
alſo whyle thou continueſt in this ſtate, thou art not reſtrayned from exerciſing good artes, and hopyng for better: and Terence alſo was a ſeruaunt, and learned with no ſeruile diſpoſition, and wrote Comedies with no ſeruile ſtyle, whereby he deſerued libertie, and to be numbred among the chiefe Poetes. By what meanes then is it poſſible, that ſeruice ſhoulde be any imped
•
ment vnto vertue, whiche is an abſolute good of the minde, ſince it can neyther hynder externall ſtudies, nor outwarde glorie? Plato hym ſelfe was carryed into bondage, and yet it is written, that the Philoſopher was greater then he that bought hym: truely a woorthie profeſſion, that maketh the ſeruaunt greater then his Maiſter. And doubtleſſe a learned ſeruaunt, is in this reſpect greater then his vnlearned Maiſter, by howe muche the mynde is greater then any Fortune: and many tymes a bonde mynde dwelleth in a free bodye, and a free mynde in a bonde bodye. Bondage may be a lette vnto the affayres of the iudiciall court, but not of the mynde. The court refuſeth a ſeruaunt: but vertue, diligence, and truſtineſſe doo not refuſe hym. Tiro was ſeruaunt vnto Cicero, but by this meanes obtaynyng his libertie, he lefte vnto poſteritie an excellent Booke of his Maiſters ieſtes and merimentes. A ſeruaunt can not be a Generall of an Armie, nor a Senatour, but he may be a Philoſopher, an Oratour, a good man, yea, and alſo ſome tyme caſtyng of his ſeruitude, he may be a Kyng and an Emperour: and we haue knowen ſome aduaunced from this degree, not onely to a Kyngdowe and Empire, but alſo vnto Heauen it ſelfe. A bondman can not ſerue in warfare vnder man, but he may ſerue GOD, the wages of whoſe ſeruice in warfare, is to reigne. The ſeruaunt of GOD is Kyng ouer all men, felowe with Angelles, a terrour to Deuylles. The ſeruaunt of GOD may alſo be ſeruaunt to man: and thus worldly ſeruice is no hunderaunce to the heauenly felicitie.
Sorowe.
I am a Seruaunt.
Reaſon.
If thou haſt alwayes been ſo, cuſtome may aſſwage thy griefe: If not, hope that thou mayeſt one day not be that, whiche ſome tyme thou waſt not.
Sorowe.
I am a ſeruaunt.
Reaſon.
If thou hope for an ende of thy
miſerie, let thy hope diminiſhe thy ſorowe. But yf thou deſpayre, let patience mitigate it, and heape not one miſchiefe vppon another, neyther vexe thy ſelfe to no purpoſe willingly and wittingly, whiche were the greateſt poynt of follie that is incident to the lyfe of man. But a man muſt not deſpayre, for when all thynges be wantyng, death wyll come at the length, who in deſpite of thy Maiſter, wyll looſe thee, and ſet thee at libertie.
Of pouertie. The .viii. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Am oppreſſed with pouertie, that I can not ryſe.
Reaſon.
Pouertie hath many tymes perſwaded modeſtie to an vnwyllyng mynde, and that whiche Philoſophie hath attempted in vayne, this hath brought to paſſe.
Sorowe.
Pouertie beſiegeth myne entrie.
Reaſon.
Shee beſiegeth it not, but keepeth it, neyther is this a ſtrange and vnaccuſtomable thyng, for in tymes paſt ſhee preſerued the Citie of Rome many hundred yeeres. For among the tentes of ſober and carefull pouertie, flouthfull wantonneſſe, ſluggyſhe ſleepe, and weake and effeminate vices doo entre.
Sorowe.
Pouertie hath inuaded my houſe.
Reaſon.
I aduertiſe thee to meete her willingly, receyuyng and embracyng her with vnfolded armes, and a cheareful countenance. And though at the fyrſt encounter ſhe appeare ſome deale ſharpe and bytter, and not without cauſe to be compared vnto a wayfaryng man, and one that is armed at all poyntes, for that her commyng is ſpeedie and threatnyng: notwithſtandyng, when ſhe is once receyued into familiaritie, ſhe wyll be a gheaſt nothing ſumptuous, but quiet and gentle.
Sorowe.
Pouertie rappeth at my doore.
Reaſon.
Open then vnto her ſpeedily, before that by ſudden force ſhe breake the barres, and pluckyng the doore from the hookes, ſhe enter in lyke a conquerour: For, as ſhe is very greeuous vnto thoſe that withſtand her, ſo is ſhe very pleaſant vnto them that geue her place.
Sorowe.
Pouertie hath broken vp my houſe.
Reaſon.
Shee is a paſſyng
diligent watcher agaynſt Theeues, and Pleaſures, whiche are woorſe then theeues, agaynſt the girdes and abſurd iudgementes of the common people, and alſo agaynſt the infamie of couetouſneſſe or prodigalitie, whiche ſeldome ſitteth in any other place then the entries of the ryche: From theſe euylles can thy houſe by no meanes be better preſerued, then yf pouertie guard it. And euen as yf a man be franke, yet yf he reſerue any thyng to him ſelfe, he is commonly tearmed couetous: ſo yf he be poore, he ſhal be counted greedie to haue. It is the maner of neere neighbours to enuie at wealth, & to pitie pouertie. The one they deſyre and diſprayſe, the other they commende and abhorre.
Sorowe.
Pouertie hath poſſeſſed my houſe.
Reaſon.
Now ſhal there be no place with thee for pryde, nor for enuie, nor for notable loſſes, nor for the feare of loſſes, nor for a thouſand kindes of ſuſpitions, nor for deceite, nor for ſurfect and loathſomneſſe, nor for the Gout that is a gheaſt among the ryche: all whiche being ſhut out of doores, reſte, quietneſſe, and vertue, ſhall haue larger entertaynement with thee, who ſhall haue the more roomth, the leſſe that thy wealth is.
Sorowe.
Hard pouertie hath entred my houſe.
Reaſon.
I knowe what thou meaneſt: ryches ſhoulde haue entred more pleaſantly, but pouertie more ſafely. There are no riches, before whom ſecuritie is not to be preferred. For when all thynges whatſoeuer men doo or deſyre, are directed vnto felicitie: ſurely it may conſiſt without ryches, but not without ſecuritie.
Sorowe.
I haue been long tyme oppreſſed with importunate pouertie.
Reaſon.
As no importable thyng can long be borne, ſo is there no ſhort thyng difficult. But thou wylt ſay this is hard: examine it with ryches, doeſt thou make more accompt of golde then of vertue? Haſt thou not learned among the Paradoxes of the Sto
•
kes, That onely a wyſe man is ryche?
Or perhappes haſt thou read it, and not regarded it? Whiche thyng moſt readers doo, to the ende to talke more finely, not to lyue more vertuouſly, applying nothyng vnto honeſtie, but referryng all to knowledge and eloquence, then whiche nothyng is more vayne.
Of Domage ſuſtayned. The .ix. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
CRuell Fortune hath bereft me of all my ryches.
Reaſon.
Shee hath done thee no iniurie, for ſhe hath taken but her owne: but this is an auncient and common vnthankefulneſſe, to forget what was geuen you, and to remember what is taken away. And therefore your thankes are fewe and colde, and your complaintes many and feruent.
Sorowe.
Fierce Fortune hath taken alſo away the things that are neceſſary for liuing.
Reaſon.
No man can take away the thyngs that are neceſſarie, foraſmuche as nothyng is cruely to be called neceſſarie, without whiche a man may lyue wel. I ſay, lyue wel, not voluptuouſly, not inſolently, or gorgiouſly, but wyſely, but ſoberly, but honeſtly: wherein Fortune, be ſhe neuer ſo proud, ſhal confeſſe that ſhe hath no right. And truely, although deſire of hauing, is not ſatiſfied with al the golde that is in the worlde, and all the pompe of precious ſtones, and plentie of all maner of thinges, notwithſtanding, natural neceſſitie is contented with verie litle, that may be gotten by ſome lyght meanes of the tongue, or exerciſe of the hand: thus vertue is pleaſed with a verie litle, & vice with nothing.
Sorowe.
Couetous Fortune denyeth me neceſſarie foode and apparrell.
Reaſon.
Thou muſt get it then ſome where els. Vertue is more liberal then Fortune, for ſhe denieth a man nothyng, but whiche wyll hurt yf it be graunted, and doo good, yf it be forbydden: ſhee taketh away nothyng, but which wyl hurt to haue it, and is profitable to looſe it: ſhee deferreth nothyng, ſhee commaundeth nothyng, ſhee plucketh not backe her hande, ſhee frowneth not, ſhee looketh not ſtrangly, ſhee deſpiſeth no man, ſhe forſaketh no man, ſhee deceyueth no man, ſhee chafeth not, ſhee rageth not, ſhee changeth not, ſhee is alwayes one, and euery where, but that the more ſhe is taſted of, the ſweeter ſhee ſeemeth, and the neerer ſhee is beholden, the fayrer euery day then other ſhee appeareth. That thou mayeſt therefore be ryche in deede, let nothyng carrie thee away from this affliction, or repell thee, although it doo exerciſe and moleſt thee: the fyrſt entraunce vnto it is harde, as for the reſidue, it is redie, pleaſant, and eaſie. For when thou art once
come vnto it, thou ſhalt not feele pouertie.
Sorowe.
Fortune hath ſpoyled mee of all my goodes.
Reaſon.
Thou ſuppoſeſt amiſſe, this miſchiefe is commune to all men: for truely ſhe hath not ſpoyled thee of any goodes, or yf they were goodes, they were none of thyne, but whiche perhappes, after the common accompt, thou thoughteſt to be thyne: and I marueyle yf thou knowe not yet that they were anothers.
Sorowe.
Fortune hath lefte mee bare and needie.
Reaſon.
Vertue wyll apparrell thee, vnleſſe thou refuſe her, and alſo enrytche thee, vnleſſe perhappes thou eſteeme more of Golde and Purple, then of honeſtie, and the furniture of a valient minde: whiche yf thou doeſt, then would I ſay that thou were verie poore and bare in deede.
Sorowe.
There is no meanes ſufficient to ſaue me agaynſt the aſſault of Fortune, and troubles of pouertie.
Reaſon.
Why marueyleſt thou? All thy cunning, and thy weapons wherewith thou thinkeſt to defend thy ſelfe, are in thyne enimies hand. Shee holdeth faſt the handle, the poynt is turned towardes thee. If thou ſeeke for aduice, ſet theſe thynges aſyde, and doo ſome thyng els, and apply thy minde vnto thoſe ſtudies wherein Fortune hath nothing to doo. Vertue is not gotten by ryches, but ryches by Vertue. Only Vertue is the moſt ſoueraine art agaynſt all fortunes and pouertie. Thou haſt read, howe that the Philoſopher Ariſtippus, being caſt vp by ſhypwracke vpon the Rhodian ſhoare, beyng bare and deſtitute of all thoſe thinges which Fortune can eyther geue or take away, and delighted with the ſtrangeneſſe of the place, as it hapneth often tymes, glauncyng his eyes about, had by chaunce faſtened them vppon certayne Geometrical deſcriptions, crying then out aloude, he comforted his companions, and byd them be of good cheere, for that they had not fallen vpon any deſart or forlorne Countrey, for that he beheld there the foote ſteppes and tokens of men: from thence entryng into the Citie, he got him directly vnto the Schooles, and places of exerciſe of learnyng: where, by meanes of his diſputations among the Philoſophers, he fyrſt wonne admiration, and afterwarde gayned the friendſhyppe and rewardes of the greateſt perſonages, whereby he prouided meate and drynke, and apparrell, and other neceſſaries for trauayle, not
onely for him ſelfe, but alſo for his companie. Who when they were departyng, demaundyng of hym what they ſhoulde ſay to any of his friendes when they came home, notably byd them ſay this one thyng: that they ſhoulde prepare thoſe ryches for theyr chyldren, whiche can not peryſhe by ſhypwracke, whiche neyther tempeſt by Sea, in ciuile or martiall affayres can take away.
Sorowe.
I am deſtitute both of goodes, and mynde.
Reaſon.
This fyrſt maketh thee lyght, the ſecond, poore in deede and wretched. But I ſuppoſe thou haſt read the ſaying of Theophraſtus, aſwel as the counſayle of Ariſtippus: but what auayleth it thee to haue read a thyng onely, vnleſſe thou alſo remember it, and put it in practice?
Sorowe.
Beyng ſpoyled of my houſe, familie, neceſſaries, and all myne ornamentes, what ſhall I doo, or whyther ſhall I turne my ſelfe?
Reaſon.
Vnto thoſe ryches whereof thou canſt not be ſpoyled, whiche accompanying thee whyther ſo euer thou goeſt, wyll make thee ryche and well furniſhed. And for that mee thynketh I had neede to helpe thy memorie, this is the ſaying of Theophraſtus, whereof I made mention erewhyle, That among all ſortes of men, a learned man onely is no ſtranger when he commeth into a forraine Countrey, neyther is deſtitute of friendes when he hath loſt his Familiars and Kinſefolke, but is a Citizen in euery Citie, and canne valiently contemne the chaunces of Fortune without feare: but he ſhoulde thynke hym ſelfe to be defended not by the guarde of learnyng, but of felicitie, that he walketh vppon ſlipperie, not ſtable ſteppes, but wreaſtleth with a feeble lyfe.
Sorowe.
I had an inheritaunce from my Father, whiche I haue loſt, What ſhall I nowe doo?
Reaſon.
There diſcende two inheritaunces from the Father: the one of tranſitorie goodes, whiche is gouerned by Fortune, the other of Vertue and learnyng, whiche is ſo farre repoſed in ſafetie out of the kingdome of Fortune, that ſhee can not hurt it. This is that inheritaunce which moſt louyng fathers doo ſpecially leaue vnto their children, which vnleſſe they doo refuſe it, doth adorne the poſſeſſours thereof in the ende, and after the ende of their lyfe, continuyng with them not onely ſo long as the other, but alſo muche more comfortably and durably. Whiche thyng well
knowyng the Citie of Athens, the famous mother of Nurture, Eloquence, and Lawes, when as the lawe of all the other Cities of Greece, without exception, compelled the chyldren to ſuccour and relieue their parentes, ſhe ordeyned, that thoſe parentes only ſhoulde be relieud, that had cauſed their chyldren to be brought vp in learnyng, for that they onely ſhoulde leaue an aſſured and permanent inheritaunce vnto their chyldren.
Sorowe.
I want many thynges to lyue withall.
Reaſon.
To whom a fewe thynges may be ſufficient, how he ſhoulde want many, I can not ſee. But you ſay ye want that to lyue withall, whiche is wanting to your couetouſneſſe, whereby it commeth to paſſe, that ye want not onely many thynges, but all thynges, as well that ye haue, as that ye deſyre, in that ye dare not touche the one, neyther can attayne to the other, and in eyther reſpect, is lyke miſerie or pouertie.
Sorowe.
I lyue in too poore eſtate.
Reaſon.
Comfort thy hart, with thy great and famous companions: Valerius Publicola, one of the aucthours of the Romane libertie, Menenius Agrippa, purchaſer of the Romane tranquilitie, becauſe they had nothyng wherewithall to burie them of theyr owne, had it out of the common treaſurie. Paulus Aemilius conquerour of the Macedonian kinges, and deſtroyer of that moſt famous and auncient kingdome, beyng ſo riche in glory as he was, was ſo poore in money, that vnleſſe this moſt valient mans Landes had been ſolde, his wyues Dower could not haue been reſtored. Attilius Regulus, Cueus Scipio, Quintius Cincinnatus, defenders of the Romane Empire, were ſo poore, yea in houſholde prouiſion, that the fyrſt of them atchiuing great exploites in Africa, the ſeconde in Spayne, the one of them becauſe of the death of his Farmer, the other for the Dower of his Daughter, were both conſtrayned to make ſuite to be diſcharged from the Senate, whiche they had obtayned, but that the Senate prouiding better for the ſtate of the Common wealth, dyd relieue the pouertie of thoſe moſt excellent Citizens. Vnto Quintius, whyle he was earyng his poore foure Acres of Land, by decree of the Senate and people of Rome, in the tyme of extremitie, the whole gouernment of the ſtate was committed. Vnto theſe may be added Curius, who was ryche by his Garden, and
Fabritius that was mightie with a litle, who contemnyng profered ryches, and hauyng nothyng but ryche weapons, ryght handes, and moſt rych myndes, vanquiſhed the Kyng of Greece, and the moſt valient people of Italie. They were aſwell inuincible with golde, as with iron. But what ſpeake I of certeyne Citizens, when as the whole people of Rome, beyng the fountayne and example of a notable Hiſtorie, was good ſo long, as I began to ſay, as it was a poore people? But Nero beyng drowned in laſciuiouſneſſe and reproches, was not able to meaſure or reckon his goodes. But Varius Heliogabalus the moſt effeminate and fylthy beaſt that euer lyued, and the ſhame of your Empyre, a ſhameful thyng to ſpeake or heare, woulde vouchſafe to haue the loathſome ordu
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and burden of his belly to be receyued into none other veſſell then of golde: a thyng not to be ouerſlypped, yf it were but to ſet foorth the irkeſome and outragious deſire of mortall men: When as he well remembred, that not only the meales and dayly dyet of ſuche men as the aboue named are, but alſo the ſacrifices of the Gods were woont to be ſerued and celebrated in earthen veſſelles. O miſerable Citie in continuaunce of tyme by deſtiny fallen vnto ſo fylthy handes: But rather O golde the extreame deſire of couetouſneſſe: O hope that art the laſt and ende of humane trauayles, thou that art the woonder vnto eyes, and the amazyng vnto myndes, to what vſes waſt thou conuerted? I woulde commend the deede, or at leaſtwyſe not reprooue it, for that there is no mockerie more meete for ſo ſhameful errour of man, yf ſo be it hadde proceeded from a man of ſounde iudgement, and perfect reaſon: but now who dareth deny, but that goodes are excellent, and to be wiſhed, which men doo in ſuche ſort ſeeke after with ſwoorde and wickedneſſe, whyle neglectyng the beſt, they abounde with the worſt?
Sorow.
I paſſe foorth a poore life in trauel.
Reaſon.
Cleantes was conſtrayned by neede to drawe water to water hearbes in a garden withal, and Plautus to lift vp ſackes & corne vpon a hand querne. How great a Philoſopher was the one, and the other a Poet? and againe, how poore a gardiner was the firſt, and the other a baker? Who both after their woorke was doone, the reſidue of the night wherein they ſhould haue taken their reſt,
ſuche was the courage of theyr mynde, the one applyed his tyme vnto the ſtudie of Philoſophie, the other to the wrytyng of Commedies, that he myght ſell them for money. Lactancius Firmianus, a man of great learning, and rare eloquence among his compeeres, beeyng alſo ſchoolemaiſter vnto the ſonne of a great Prince, led his lyfe in great pouertie of all thynges, yea of common neceſſaries. Horace was borne poore, Pacunius lyued poorely, Statius was poore: both of them ſolde theyr Comedies, and thereby gotte theyr lyuyng. To be ſhort, Virgill alſo was ſometyme a poore man, vntyll contrary to the common cuſtome, ryches hapned vnto his wit. There be many ſuch examples in al degrees of men: and I omit theſe, becauſe there are very many, who for the deſire they hadde vnto heauenly ryches, haue not only with indifferent myndes, but gladly and wyllyngly, choſen not only pouertie, but alſo hunger, thyrſte, nakedneſſe, and all kyndes of miſeries vppon the earth. If that by theſe as it were humble and earthly examples thou art not mooued, the Lorde of heauen hym ſelfe was here in poore eſtate, that he myght teache by his example, that this pouertie is the way whereby men attayne vnto great ryches. He, I ſay, by whom Kynges doo reigne, was borne in pouertie, lyued in pouertie, dyed naked, whom in the meane whyle al the Elementes obeyed: and thou ſellie wretche doeſt grieuouſly beare the ſtate of thy Lorde and maiſter, and art not aſhamed of thy foolyſhe inſolencie. Certaynely, who ſo thynkyng on hym, ſhall arme hym ſelfe with vertue, being very riche in pouertie and needyng nothyng, wyll not deſyre a Kynges riches.
Sorowe.
I haue no ſtore of riches.
Reaſon.
As no riches are ſufficient for a needie and baſe mynde, ſo vnto a ryche and franke courage no pouertie commeth amiſſe: as for the firſt, he leaneth vnto that whiche is anothers, but he of whom I ſpake laſt, truſteth vnto his owne: to builde vppon another mans grounde is a loſſe, but to builde vppon his owne is a vantage.
Sorowe.
I am very poore.
Reaſon.
If thou obey neceſſities, thou canſt neuer be poore: but if thou be ſubiect to luſtes, thou ſhalt neuer be riche.
Sorowe.
Hytherto I haue ben poore, yea I am a very begger.
Reaſon.
Mens fortune
and ſtate dooth not continue: for as from great riches vnto extreame pouertie, ſo from extreame pouertie vnto great ryches, there is often exchange. I ſuppoſe thou haſt read in Quintus Curtius the Hiſtorian, how one, called Abdolominus, at the commaundement or rather permiſſion of Kyng Alexander, from a poore gardyner was aduaunced vnto the kingdome of Sidon, and by contemning the kingdome, is reputed greater then the kyngdome. Truely, whiche thou canſt not chooſe but haue read, Romulus, from a ſhepheards cottage becomming the founder of ſo great a citie, was the firſt that tooke vppon hym the Romane Crowne, and the ſixt Kyng aſcended vnto the Kingly dignitie, from a very baſe, and as ſome haue thought, from a ſeruyle degree: neither more wealthie was the riſing of Alexander ſonne to King Priamus, nor of Cyrus the moſt famous of al the Perſian Kinges, neyther were their beginnings much other then was that of Romulus. Gaius Marius, who had ben, and ſhoulde haue been often Conſull of Rome, before he atteyned vnto any of theſe degrees of honour, being an hyrelyng ploughman, ſpent the firſt yeeres of his lyfe in the fieldes, and at length after ſo many victories and triumphes, and betweene thoſe ſeuen times that he was Con
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ul, beſides his hydyng of him ſelfe in the Fennes, and his impriſonment, he begged alſo a litle peece of bread. Iulius Caeſar, that ſhoulde afterwarde be Lorde of all the worlde, and by his Teſtament diſpoſe it vnto his heyres that ſhoulde be Lordes of al the worlde after hym, was poore when he was a young man. Thou hauyng the company and felowſhip of ſuche woorthie men, canſt thou not eyther hope for ryches, or contemne them?
Sorowe.
I am waxen poorer then I was.
Reaſon.
It is well: thou ſhalt alſo be more humble, light, and at libertie, then thou waſt. They that goe on a daungerous iourney, loue to goe lyght. Thou ſhalt want thine accuſtomed ryches, and thy Myſe, and thy Theeues, and thy ſtubberne Seruauntes, and all other thynges that folowe wealth, feygned friendes, folowyng and catchyng Paraſites, and all the whole houſholde flocke of thoſe that wyll laugh with thee to thy face, but wyll mocke and byte thee behynde thy backe. To be ſhort, yf thou compare thy loſt ryches with
the troubles that thou haſt loſt alſo with them, thou wylt call it agayne. Surely to ſpeake nothyng of ſecuritie, humilitie, ſobrietie, quietneſſe, modeſtie, whiche are the companions of pouertie, yf ſhe brought none other commoditie with her, then that ſhe deliuereth a man from the troupes of deceiptful flatterers, and from the tyrranny of proude ſeruantes, there were cauſe ſufficient not only to ſuffer her, but alſo to wyſhe for her, yea, to ſeeke after pouertie. But let this ſuffiſe thee: for thou complayneſt more then neede is, whereat I woulde woonder in thee, vnleſſe I had obſerued it of long tyme in all men, that there is nothyng whereof they doo more grieuouſly, and more often complayne: ſo that there is nothyng among men better, nothyng more hatefull then pouertie.
Sorow.
I am poorer in lyfe.
Reaſon.
Thou ſhalt be gladder in death. There was neuer any man liuyng ſo poore, but when he was dying, coulde haue been contented to haue liued poorer.
Of thinne Fare. The x. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
MY fare is thinne.
Reaſon.
Then is thy pleaſure thin, and thy ſobrietie clenly. Wouldeſt thou, vpon deſire to glut thy luſt, and to ſatiſfie thy deynty mouth, wyſhe the contrary?
Sorowe.
I fare hardly.
Reaſon.
Take it in good part that thou wanteſt the prouocations of appetite, ſeeyng thou haſt in a redyneſſe thoſe that are ſweeter, and eaſier both to be gotten, and to be kept: For vertue hath alſo her enticementes. I vſe nowe Tullies woorde. When thou ſhalt once begyn to chaw and taſte of theſe, thou wylt not much paſſe for the other.
Sorowe.
My fare is harde.
Reaſon.
Hardneſſe is friende vnto vertue, and delicie vnto vice. Howe many excellent men wyllyngly abandonyng pleaſures, haue choſen this kynde of fare whiche thou myſlykeſt? Whereof ſome when they myght haue fared deyntyly, tooke pleaſure rather in feaſtyng with bread and water? Shal we iudge any man to be ſo wedded to pleaſure, that woulde not extreamely
hate her, yf he coulde beholde with his eyes the ſh
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me that is wyned with her? But ſweetneſſe is a pernicious thyng, a deadly enimie vnto vertue, and a beaſtly ticklyng, whiche who ſo purſueth, may be a man in ſhewe, but in deede is a bruite beaſt. Moreouer, the familiaritie whiche is contracted with vices, and the accuſtomyng vnto them whiche is very hurtefull, caſteth a myſt before mens eyeſight, that they are not able to diſcerne how fayre that is whiche grieueth them, and how foule that whiche delighted them.
Sorowe.
My fare is to ſhort.
Reaſon.
Nay rather it is to ſumptuous, and thy throate is to wyde. The ſame to ſee to, is but a narrowe way, and in deede but one way, notwithſtandyng it is a wyde open way for all vyces to runne in by vnto the foule. By this way the flame of luſtes, the dulneſſe of the wyt, the rage and fury of anger and chydyng doo enter in, and ſo dooeth alſo imperious deſyre to haue, whiche commaundeth you to ſuffer and doo all thynges, ſo that you thynke them neceſſary, when as in deede they be hurtfull, and you call that the ſtaye of your lyfe, whiche is the ouerthrowe thereof. By this way enter in the firebrandes of enuie, and the implacable emulation, with diſdeyning myndes, vauntyng that there be other that ſerue theyr throate and belly aſwell as you, ſeekyng for prayſe there, where as ſhame were to be feared. To be ſhort, by this way entreth pryde, whyleſt the ſwellyng belly that cannot receyue it ſelfe, communicateth his ſwellyng vnto the mynde, and perſwadeth hym that he is of ſome greater callyng then a man, for that he hath been fedde with Ambroſia and Necta
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, the meate and drynke of the Goddes. Thus thou ſeeſt howe one vyce is the entrie vnto all, and yet yf it can be ſhut by none other meanes, thou art not willyng that it be made faſt with the barres of pouertie. O amiable pouertie, that takeſt vppon thee the office of continencie: it is profitable for thee to be compelled vnto that, whiche thou oughteſt to doo of thyne owne accorde.
Sorowe.
My ſlender dyet maketh me leaue.
Reaſon.
Haddeſt thou rather then to ſwell? This leaueneſſe wyl dryue the Goute out of thy boundes, it wyll take awaye the head ache, and the gyddyneſſe of the brayne, and vomityng, and the hycket, and the lothſomneſſe of
the ſtomacke, and ſweatyng, and weeryſomneſſe of thy ſelfe, the ſudden alteration of colour from paleneſſe to redneſſe, it wyll alſo helpe the ſtrong ſmel of the breath, and of the whole body that is noyſome vnto thy ſelfe, and others. Moreouer, it wyll moderate and repreſſe the vnſtableneſſe of thy feete, the tremblyng of thy handes, the ſhakyng of thy head, and whiche is chiefe of all, it wyll ſtay thy mynde it ſelfe. Wherefore then doeſt thou complayne, ſince that thou haſt gotten ſo many commodities of the body and mynde, by wantyng of meate, and the ſmal diſcommoditie of the ſenſe of taſtyng, beyng woorthie to looſe them, and to be bondſlaue vnto taſte only.
Sorowe.
Thynne dyet weeryeth me.
Reaſon.
The contrary woulde make thee weery, vnleſſe perhaps thou call payne an eaſe, Haſt thou not read, that the weeryſomneſſe of the delicate lyfe is great, inſomuche that it coulde not be abidden the ſpace of fyue dayes togeather by men of temperate dyet, and ſuche as aſpire vnto hygher matters then are the throate and the belly?
Sorowe.
My fare is thyn aboue meaſure.
Reaſon.
There was an age, when as there was here, and yet is, a nation, among whom was moſt gallant fare, but when the worlde was waxen woorſe, you endeuoured alſo to be worſt of all, beyng alwayes the aucthours of the publique decay and ruine: ſo that you that were the beſt of all other, now turnyng your footeſteppes contrarywyſe, are become woorſt of all men, and among the vices of tyme and places poſſeſſe the hygheſt degree.
Sorowe.
My thyn dyet pleaſeth me not.
Reaſon.
The louers and patrones both of vertue and pleaſure, doo commend a thyn dyet: what falſe opinion thou haſt embraſed, I doo not knowe. Plato condemneth the Syracuſian feaſtes, and banquettes, and ſayth that he lyketh not to haue the belly filled twyce in a day. Epicurus ſetteth his pleaſure and delight in his Hearbes and ſallettes, and this diet whiche thou miſlykeſt, he aloweth in woordes and deede: Finally, as Cicero ſayeth, there was neuer man ſayde more of the thyn dyet. If thou regarde not the moſt famous ryngleaders of two ſectes, what remayneth, but that through the heate of thyne errour, thou folow loathſome gurmandize, whiche is enimie vnto vertue, and not friende to pleaſure, whiche is a filthie ende rather of a beaſt then
of a man: and moreouer, whiche I ſpeake with diſdayne and griefe, beaſtes truely deuour muche, but it is accordyng to the receipt of theyr bellies: but you only, that are the Lordes ouer al lyuing creatures, both know not your owne proportion, and alſo exceede it. Neither is it for naught that many doo marueyle, why in the remembrance of our fathers and grandfathers there were farre fewer Vineyardes then be nowe, but as many men or rather moe, and yet notwithſtandyng Wines were then ſolde better cheape: the reaſon is, the thyrſt of the drunken ſort hath euery day ſince encreaſed more and more.
Sorowe.
From great fare I am fallen to ſmall.
Reaſon.
It is fortuned wel, that penury hath fulfilled that, whiche modeſtie neglected. It is beſt for a man to doo that wyllingly whiche he ought to doe, and the next to do it, though it were conſtraynedly.
Of Original Pouertie. The .xi. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
YEA, I was borne in pouertie.
Reaſon.
Who commeth not naked out of his mothers wombe? In this matter kinges haue no preheminence.
Sorowe.
I was poore before I was borne.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt a good memorie yf thou doo remember it, and a moſt delicate feelyng yf thou diddeſt perceiue it.
Sorowe.
I was begotten in pouertie.
Reaſon.
Dooth this complaint any thyng auayle thee? It was not long of thee, but of thy parentes.
Sorowe.
I was borne in pouertie.
Reaſon.
And ſhalt likewiſe dye in pouertie: thy end ſhalbe lyke thy beginning, vnleſſe perhaps thou thinke that the golde which thou haſt in the bottome of thy cheaſt, wyl cure thy ſickneſſes when thou lieſt a dying.
Sorow.
The beginning of my life was in pouertie.
Reaſon.
The middle many times poſſeſſeth falſe riches, but the beginning & ending are very pouertie: to be borne naked, & to die naked, is the neceſſitie of humane condition. For what, I pray you, auayleth ye chamber hung with purple, & the funeral bed gilden, and whatſoeuer other pride the ambition of mankind hath deuiſed, when a man is departyng
out of this worlde? What haue theſe thynges to doo, or what apperteyne they to the Ague, or to death it ſelfe whereof we ſpeake, or the nakedneſſe of them that dye? Is it ſo, that as trappings & gallant furniture pleaſeth an Horſe, ſo doo the coſtly hangynges delight the walles? Theſe thynges may pleaſe the eyes of the beholders? In thynges that lacke ſenſe, there may be ſome what that may delight others, but them ſelues can take no pleaſure in any thyng.
Sorowe.
I was borne naked and poore.
Reaſon.
Varietie of fortune dooth alter almoſt all worldely thynges: the ſame alſo maketh many of them equall and of lyke degree, whereby ſhe may bryng comfort vnto the inequalitie of the reſidue: the greateſt and chiefeſt wherof, is this equalitie of byrth, and death. Many and ſundry are the ſortes of apparrell whiche the lyuyng doo weare, but nakedneſſe only belongeth vnto them that are borne, and dye, but that the firſt ſort doo fynde out many thynges vpon ignorance, and the other forſake all thynges wittyngly, ſo that the knowledge of tranſitorie thynges, ought to qualyfie the ſenſe of ſo ſmall a loſſe.
Sorowe.
Naked dyd I enter into this wretched lyfe.
Reaſon.
Whyle thou thynkeſt on that, thou ſhalt depart naked with a more indifferent minde.
Of the heauie burden of many chyldren. The .xii. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Am ouerburdened with many chyldren.
Reaſon.
With gold and ſiluer alſo weake ſhoulders may be ouerlayed, howebeit no man wyll complayne of it, but wyll be glad to be ſo burdened. But as for chyldren, they are accounted among the chiefeſt gyftes of your felicitie. Dooeſt thou ſay then that thou art ouerburdened, and not rather lyghtened by them?
Sorowe.
I am a poore man among many chyldren.
Reaſon.
Nay rather, thy chyldren are thy ryches: then howe thou canſt be poore in the myddes of ryches, ſee thou. For this happeneth but only vnto couetous men, and thoſe that are vnthankefull for theyr goodes.
Sorowe.
Among a company of chyldren; I
liue in beggerlie neede.
Reaſon.
Chyldren are not a toyle, but an eaſe vnto their Parentes, an appeaſyng to theyr griefes, and a comfort in all fortunes, yf they be good: otherwyſe there is no complaynyng of their number, but of their manners.
Sorowe.
I am hemmed in with an armie of Chyldren.
Reaſon.
And why not rather accompanied, defended, and beautified? Truely not Fathers onely, but Mothers alſo doo terme chyldren theyr Iewelles. Haſt thou not hearde, howe Cornelia that was daughter vnto Africane the great, when as a very ryche Gentlewoman of Campania, who by chaunce lodged in her houſe, womanlyſhly glorying ſhewed her her moſt precious and fayre Iewelles, prouokyng Cornelia as it were vnto emulation, of very purpoſe prolonged that talke, vntyll ſuche tyme as her chyldren ſhoulde returne from Schoole, who then were but lytle boyes, but afterwarde proued excellent men: Whom when theyr mother behelde, turnyng her ſelfe towardes her gheaſt, Theſe, quoth ſhee, are my Iewelles. Notably well ſayde truely, and as it became the daughter of ſo woorthie a father: but theſe thy ornamentes, thou tearmeſt impedimentes.
Sorowe.
Who is able to feede ſo manie chyldren.
Reaſon.
He that feedeth thee from thy youth vnto thyne olde age, who feedeth not onely Men, but alſo Fyſhes, and Beaſtes, and Foules.
Sorowe.
But who is able to cloath the bodyes of ſo many chyldren.
Reaſon.
He that apparrelleth not onely lyuyng creatures, but alſo the Fieldes with Graſſe, and Flowres, and the Wooddes with Leaues, and Branches. And how knowe we yet, whether theſe thy chyldren perhappes ſhall not onely feede and clothe thee, but alſo defende and honour thee. Of humane affayres, as ſome that begynne with pleaſure, doo ende with ſorowe and care: euen ſo contrarywyſe, ſome that haue a bytter begynnyng, doo ende pleaſauntly: ſuche as for the moſt part is the euent of all vertuous actions, whiche are greeuous at the fyrſt entraunce, but in proceſſe delectable.
Sorowe.
I am poore, and haue manye chyldren.
Reaſon.
Thou marueyleſt, as though thou haddeſt not read of the plentifull
pouertie of men. There are ſundrie kyndes of Trades, and diuers gyftes of Fortune: they happen not all vnto one man: vnto ſome wandryng Merchandize, to ſome the rough Earth, to ſome dead Mettall, and vnto thee lyuyng ryches, whiche are Chyldren, are alotted. And ſhall we recken Oxen, and Sheepe, and Aſſes, and Camelles, and flittyng Bees, and Pigeons, and Poultry, and Peacockes, and lykewyſe Menſeruauntes and Womenſeruauntes, in the number of ryches, and exclude Chyldren onely?
Sorowe.
O, howe manye Chyldren haue I?
Reaſon.
O, howe many moe haue other had? Priamus had fyftie, Orodes king of the Parthians had thirtie, Artaxerxes king of the Perſians had an hundred & fifteene, Erothinius king of the Arabians ſeuen hundred, in truſt and confidence of whom, inuadyng the confines of his enimies, with ſeuerall inroades he waſted the landes of Egypt and Syria. And truely it is a kynde of power and force, to haue many Chyldren. But I knowe what thou wylt ſay: Theſe whom thou haſt named were all of them myghtie Kynges, and my ſtate is farre otherwyſe. Was Appius Claudius a King? No, he was not ſo much as a Rych man, in that auncient tyme, when as it was a reproche to be counted ryche, and blyndneſſe was ioyned with his pouertie, and olde age with his blyndneſſe, and yet notwithſtandyng Tullie wrytyng of hym, Foure Sonnes, ſayeth he, and fyue Daughters, ſo great an houſe, and ſo great reſort of Suters dyd Appius gouerne, beyng both blynd and olde. Neyther is it marueyle that he gouerned well his priuate affayres, when as, beyng troubled with theſe diſcommodities, he gouerned alſo the whole Common wealth. The greater part of humane defectes, conſyſteth in the manners, not in the thynges. Appius eſtate was not lyke a Kyng, neyther dyd he deſyre it, but beyng contented with his owne callyng, decked vp his ſmall houſe not with coſtlye furniture, but with vertues, and maynteyned his familie with a ſlender dyet. And that whiche many Kinges doo vnwyllyngly and camplaynyng, that dyd he with an indifferent mynd: For he ſought not for ryches, but conformed his appetite to his abilitie. Appius had not the lyke wealth to king Craeſus,
nor to his fellowe citizen Craſſus, but he was happier then eyther of them, although his ryches were leſſe: neyther dyd he lyue after a greater reuenue, but as all good men doo, after his owne. Neyther truely doo I require of thee, that thou lyue after any other proportion, for thy ſelfe and thyne, then after thyne owne, nor that thou feede and cloth thy familie with princely meate and apparrell. Princes chyldren feede dayntily, and are brauely apparrelled: but they lyue not better, nor longer, nor pleaſanter, nor, as it is wel knowen, more ſafely, nor more honeſtly, nor more vertuouſly. In the ſteede of all theſe, they haue one thyng wherein they excell, they lyue more pompouſly, that is to ſay, foolyſhlie. Euerie one hath his owne manner of lyuyng and meaſure, but not therefore the better, becauſe the greater: whereby it commeth to paſſe, that oftentymes a man ſhall ſee ſome merrie in a Cottage, and other ſadde in the Court. There is one onely Fountayne of grace, but all are not of lyke capacitie: that Fountaine I meane, vnto whom it is ſayde, Thou openeſt thyne hand, and filleſt euery lyuyng thyng with thy bleſsing. What maketh to purpoſe the greatneſſe or ſmalneſſe of the veſſelles, when they be all of a lyke fulneſſe? But poore folke lacke many thynges: but howe muche more doo kynges want, ſeeyng that ſaying of Horace is moſt true and approoued, that, Many thynges are wantyng to them that aſke many thynges.
Sorowe.
It is a greeuous thyng to begette many chyldren.
Reaſon.
What canſt thou recite vnto mee vnder heauen, that is not paynefull and greeuous, pleaſure onely excepted? then whiche notwithſtandyng, there is nothyng more paynefull in the ende, nothyng that leaueth ſo many ſtinges in the minde. Haſt thou not read in Horace, howe, This lyfe hath geuen nothyng vnto mortalmen without great traueyle? Doeſt thou not alſo heare what another Poet hath written aptly touching the ſame matter? For when al the godlie confeſſe with one conſent, that all good thinges are geuen vs freely from aboue, he ſayeth that they are not geuen, but ſolde, and the price appoynted, which is labour. For thus he ſayeth, The Goddes ſell vnto vs al good thinges for labour.
Sorowe.
The carefulneſſe for ſo many chyldren,
is troubleſome vnto me.
Reaſon.
Is not this ſentence to be numbred among the true ſayinges, That there can no mans lyfe be founde, that is without vexation and trouble? And lykewyſe this, That all the whole courſe of lyfe, is a torment? What haue the chyldren deſerued, whiche yf they be lackyng, yet other cares wyll aryſe? Beleeue mee, whiche way ſo euer thou turneſt thy ſelfe, and whatſoeuer trade of fortune thou aſſay, troubles, and moleſtations, and difficulties of lyfe wyll be preſent: and therefore what neede vayne lamentations?
Sorowe.
I am oppreſſed with many chyldren.
Reaſon.
If thou ſay that thou art oppreſſed as it were with thyne owne felicitie, and thou take it in euyll part that the thynges whiche men doo fyrſt and eſpecially deſyre, haue aboundantly hapned vnto thee, this is a ſtrange kynde of impacience.
Sorowe.
What ſhall I doo with ſo many Daughters? Who ſhall geue me ſo many Dowries for them?
Reaſon.
There is one GOD of the Females and Males, he feedeth his ſonnes and daughters: And as he wyll geue them witte and artes to lyue by, ſo wyll he alſo endue them with his gyftes and Dowries. Wherefore, it is ſo written, Truſt in hym, and be wyll doo it: that whiche lyeth in thee to doo ſhalbe the beſt kynde of Dowrie, namely, ſo to bryng vp thy Daughters, that they may be well lyked and loued by vpryght iudgement without a Dowrie. Fauſtina had the Romane Empire to her Dowrie: and yet howe many women thynkeſt thou haue there been without Dowries, that haue been more chaſte & fortunate then ſhe? It is not the Dowrie that maketh the happie marriage, but the vertue. Endeuour yf thou canſt, that thy Daughters money be not deſyred, but theyr honeſtie, but theyr modeſtie, but theyr integritie, but theyr patience, humbleneſſe, faythfulneſſe, and obedience: with theſe precious ſtones thy Daughters beyng adorned, with this golde laded, with theſe handmaydens accompanied, let them goe into their huſbandes houſes that are not ryche men, but honeſt, where oftentymes ſhamefaſtneſſe is ſafer, and the lyfe ſweeter, then in the Bedchambers and Courtes of Princes.
Of money loſt. The .xiii. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Haue loſt Money.
Reaſon.
And with it many cares, and continuall daunger.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt money.
Reaſon.
And alſo the payne of keepyng it, and the feare of looſyng it. Thus by looſyng thy money, thou haſt founde two good thynges, and both of them better then that whiche thou haſt loſt, to wit, careleſneſſe, & quietneſſe.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt money.
Reaſon.
It is well that it hath not loſt thee, whiche it hath done many owners thereof: For the forme of money is hurtfull, the bryghtneſſe thereof peſtilent and venomous. And therefore like a Serpent that hath golden ſkales, delyghting, ſhe pleaſeth the eyes, & ſtryketh the Soule. So then, yf thou be glad that thou art ſafely deliuered from her, reioyce that that is taken away whereby thou myghteſt be infected, and recount alſo with myrth and admiration, that thou haſt paſſed vnhurt through dangers. But yf thou were infected, knowe now, that the cauſe of the miſchiefe is rooted out, whereby thou mayeſt returne the more eaſily vnto health.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt Golde and Siluer.
Reaſon.
What hath an heauenlie minde to do, with earthly droſſe? They that folowe the more manly Philoſophie, doo not reckon golde and ſiluer among goodes: but they that profeſſe the more effeminate learnyng, doo call them goodes, but not of the minde. Whiche ſo euer of theſe thou followe, theſe thynges eyther were not good, eyther were not thyne, ſo that thou haſt no cauſe for to complayne. And yf thou wylt needes haue them called goodes, whiche thing many excellent men doo deny, notwithſtanding thou ſhalt be enforced to terme them Fortunes goodes, and not thyne. So then, neither haſt thou loſt any thyng of thyne owne, neyther ſhee any thyng that was hers, but onely hath otherwyſe diſpoſed them.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt money.
Reaſon.
As thou couldeſt not haue loſt it, yf it had been thyne, ſo couldeſt thou not looſe it, not beyng thyne: but in deede it was not thyne, but his whom it hath followed, nay rather it was not his, but Fortunes, as I haue ſayde, who lendeth it where ſhee ſeeth cauſe, for ſome ſhort tyme of occupying, for a great intereſt. And therefore learne nowe at
length, to knowe thyne owne from other folkes.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt money.
Reaſon.
If other mens loſſes alſo and not thyne owne only do grieue thee, & are vexed that any thing that is an others ſhoulde be taken from thee, learne to get thoſe thinges that are thine owne for euer, whiche are won with more eaſe, and poſſeſſed with more honor and aſſurance. If thou wouldeſt ſeeke after vertue, thou ſhouldeſt not loſe her: but you are become deſpiſers of vertue, and ſeekers and louers of money: ye ſeeme to be waxed deafe vnto holſome admonition and counſell, whatſoeuer hath been ſayde by vertuous and learned men, ſpecially agaynſt this poynt of humane madneſſe. Thou haſt heard your Satyrike Poet proteſting, For he that woulde be ryche, and ſoone be rych: and vnto theſe woordes he addeth, But what reuerence of lawes, what feare or ſhame is there euer in the couetous man, that deſireth haſtely to be ryche? This ſayeing the wyſe man among the Hebrewes compriſeth in fewe woordes: Who ſo, ſayth he, maketh haſte to be ryche, can not be without blame. Thou haſt heard alſo another Countreyman of yours, whether he were a Satyricall, or Lyricall Poet, ſaying, It is neyther houſe, nor lande, not heapes of ſiluer nor golde, that are able to expell Feuers out of the owners diſeyſed bodie, nor cares out of his minde. The ſelfe ſame thyng, this ſtrange wyſe man comprehended in fewe woordes, ſaying, Richeſſe doo not helpe in the day of vengeaunce. But he tolde moreouer what woulde helpe, Righteouſneſſe, ſayth he, ſhall delyuer a man from death. Since therefore the money whiche thou lamenteſt to be loſt, in tyme of greateſt neceſſitie can not profite the bodye nor mynde, I marueyle, eyther why it ſhoulde ſo muche be wyſhed for when it is gone, or loued when it is preſent? With theſe and ſuche other thynges, your Oratour beyng mooued, There is no ſigne ſo euident of a baſe and vile minde, ſayth he, as to loue ryches. But the Eccleſiaſtike Oratour, There is nothyng, ſayth he, more wicked, then a couetous perſon: nothing more vniuſt, then to loue money. And the aucthoritie of very many that agree in this matter, from whiche there is almoſt none that diſſent, is of ſuche multitude and grauitie, that the common peoples errour ſtriueth to no purpoſe againſt the iudgement of the wyſe. And therefore, as there is none more vniuſt,
ſo is there no deſyre more ardent then the deſyre of money, as beyng a thyng vpon whiche men are perſwaded that all thinges depende that can be wyſhed for. But contrariwyſe, the voyces of the beſt learned men cry out, experience and trueth crieth out, the multitude of auncient and new examples crieth out, that great maſſes of money are profitable to none, but haue been pernitious to many, are gotten with ſinne and toyle, kept with feare and carefulneſſe, and loſt with complaint and heauineſſe. Let the louers of money declare, eyther what falſhood is in theſe woordes, or goodneſſe in theyr ryches? And to the ende that a thyng ſo much commended may be vprightly conſidered, let euery man cal vnto his remembrance, whatſoeuer he hath ſeene or read perfectly and ſincerely concerning this matter, ſetting apart al regard of the common peoples clamour, and the glittering of the mettalles. And for that all men haue not had the lyke occaſion to ſee and trie, let thoſe thynges be called to mynde whiche are ſet downe in wrytyng by famous auctours, whiche the learned myght alwayes reade and heare at their pleaſure. And is it not well knowen, that money brought in newe and vnaccuſtomed manners, and that effeminate rycheſſe, by meanes of hatefull riotouſneſſe, dyd peruert whoſe ages, that before lyued moſt commendably? And that rycheſſe adioyned with couetouſneſſe and ouerflowing pleaſures, through ſenſualitie and laſciuiouſneſſe, brought in the deſire to ouerthrowe and deſtroy all, whiche both by wryting and effect hath often been founde to be true, That the couetous man is alwayes in neede. That iron is hurtful, but golde more hurtfull. That the wicked thyrſt of golde d th enforce mens mindes vnto any miſchiefe, and that the ſpirites are weakened onely with the ſight of money. Is not golde able to paſse through a gariſon of armed men, and to breake ſtones more forcibly then a thunderbolt? and dooeth not hereof ſpryng treaſon, both agaynſt honeſtie and lyfe? By a golden ſhowre of rayne Danaès virginitie was expugned, and lykewyſe there was one cauſe of the ouerthrowe of the Greeke Poet Amphiareus, and his couetous wife, to wit, the fatall golde, which being wel contemned, by Argia Eriphila yll wiſhed for, and yll gotten, brake vp his houſe, and began the occaſion of horrible wickedneſſe. Is it not moſt truely and
properly ſayde, that falſe and tranſitorie ryches can neyther perfourme that which they promiſe, neyther quenche the thyrſt of the minde, but encreaſe it, neyther dryue away cares, but bring them, nor relieue neceſſities, but encreaſe them? And that, The loue of money encreaſeth, as muche as the money it ſelfe encreaſeth? And likewyſe this ſaying may be added, Money maketh no man ryche, but rather contrariwyſe, there is no man in whom it hath not engendred a greater deſire of it. And no leſſe this, Care followeth money as it encreaſeth, and greater hunger of it. And agayne, To them that aſke many thynges, many thynges are wantyng: and likewyſe, They that poſseſse muche, doo lacke muche. Finally, that whatſoeuer they be, they are not permanent and continuyng, as beyng repoſed in the handes of Fortune, ſubiect euermore vnto variable chaunces, and at leaſtwyſe to be loſt by death. For when the ryche man ſleepeth, he ſhall carie nothyng away with hym: yf he open his eyes, he ſhall fynde nothyng, and yet he can not leaue that nothyng to whom he woulde: for why? Man paſseth away in an Image, and vaynely troubling hym ſelfe, he heapeth vp ryches together, and knoweth not for whom he ſhall gather them. Whyle theſe, and a thouſande ſuche lyke ſayinges of wyſe and learned men doo in ſuche ſort ſounde about our eares, notwithſtandyng infinite deſire to haue, hath made you deafe, ſo that the rych men of this worlde are in vayne admoniſhed, not to be too hyghly wyſe nor to truſt in the vncertainetie of ryches, but in the liuing GOD, who geueth all thing plenteouſly, to enioy them to do good, and to become ryche in good woorkes: for they that would be ryche, namely in theſe ryches that are commonly wyſhed for, fall into temptation and ſnares of the Deuyll, and many vnprofitable and hurtfull luſtes, that drench men in death and deſtruction: For couetouſneſſe is the roote of all miſchieues. This counſayler wyll they more harken vnto, then they wyll heare hym that ſayeth, Truſt not in wickedneſse, neyther couet after rapine: yf ryches doo abounde, ſet not thy hart vpon them. Neither him more then his ſonne, ſaying, Whoſo truſteth in his ryches, ſhall come to deſtruction. And agayne, not more then all theſe, hym that is aboue all, whoſe heauenly doctrine can not be contemned but of mad and frantike perſons, who truely calleth ryches, and the
companions of ryches, pleaſures, and cares, by the name of thornes, whiche choake the ſeede of holſome woordes: this ſpake he, in whoſe mouth was founde no guyle. The lyuely trueth, I ſay, ſpake this: and dooeſt thou thynke that he founde any fayth vpon the earth? Surely none at all, or but very litle. And that whiche he tearmeth thornes, the worlde calleth chiefe ſweetneſſe and pleaſure. And where as one ſaith, that pearles and precious ſtones, and vnprofitable gold, are the matter of al miſchiefe, they thinke them to be the cauſe of al goodneſſe, and doo all auie ſeeke after them as the cheifeſt good, and aboue al other thynges. And now therefore in the ſtreetes of cities and townes, proclamation is made not mockingly. O Citizens, citizens, ye muſt firſt ſeeke for money, and for vertue after money. And this ſaying alſo of another, Sell thy ſoule for gayne, traffique and peruſe ouer al partes of the worlde. Thus the great gyft of God, that is not yet vnderſtoode, but pouertie that is the great reproche ſent of GOD, commaundeth to do, and to ſuffer whatſoeuer a man luſt. And that is euery day founde true whiche another ſayth, You ryches, whiche are the moſt vyle thyng of all other, you haue rayſed a contention. For who is he, I pray you, at this day, that for a rewarde at conuenient oportunitie beyng layde before hym, wyll not violate all equitie, beheade Polydorus, and by force enioy his golde? Bryng louyng brethren, or friendly friendes togeather, to an aſſembly, feaſt, or any maner of meetyng, and ſhortly after let diſcorde caſt among them, I ſay not an whole, but a peece of a golden Apple: for with theſe weapons ſhe was woont to trye the quarrell, but now with ſwoordes, ſerious and triflyng matters are debated. And lyke as there is nothyng gotten with more wickedneſſe then golde, ſo to ſpeake to my purpoſe, there is nothyng loſte with more heauineſſe. For ſynne, whiche is a preſent deſtruction to the ſoule, is contemned, and the next to that, which is loſſe of good name, is not regarded, and loſſe of tyme is eſteemed as a lyght matter. The loſſe of brethren is ſlenderly lamented, of parentes more ſlenderly, and of wyues moſte ſlenderly, and many tymes is taken moſt ioyfully: only the loſſe of ryches moſte grieuouſly. And this ſaying is verie true, Loſt money is bewayled with
true teares. But we haue ſayde muche of that, whereof we can neuer ſay yenough, but neuer a litle, or alwayes to litle is ſayde: for by talkyng with obſtinate myndes, concernyng the loue of money, there is nothyng els purchaſed by teachyng of them, but hatred and contempt: for whatſoeuer gainſayeth the common errours, is reputed madde or counterfeite.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt money.
Reaſon.
Thou art awaked, thou dyddeſt but dreame only that thou waſte ryche.
Sorowe.
My money whiche I loued is gone.
Reaſon.
It is neyther the loue nor hatred of money that I commende, but the ſtudie of good huſbandrie, and the eſchewyng of couetouſneſſe: For as it is the part of a baſe mynde to loue it, ſo not to be able to ſuſteyne it, is the imperfection of a weake ſpirite, that hath ſmal ſtay in it ſelfe, and is afrayde to be ſubiect vnto money. Valient is he, ſayeth Anneus Seneca. that vſeth earthen veſſelles as he would doo ſyluer: and no leſse coragious is be that vſeth ſyluer as he would doo earthen veſselles:
that thou mayeſt vnderſtand, that whether it be vyce or vertue, it is not in the thynges, but in the myndes. It is not the hater nor louer of money, but the contemner of it when it is abſent, and the good Stewarde and vſer of it when it is preſent, whom thou muſte counte to be a woorthie perſonage. This ſaying dyd Tullie wryte from my mouth: For when he hadde ſayd that the loue of ryches apparteyned vnto a vyle and baſe mynde, he added, And there is nothyng more honeſt and magnifical, then to contemne money yf thou haue it not, and yf thou haue it, to vſe it beneficially and liberally. In a playne matter I vſe euident witneſſes, and I woulde to GOD that I and they coulde be beleeeued: then ſhoulde not mankynde in eache reſpect, and in all matters, be ſo deafe and vnbeleeuyng. The vnſatiable toylyng of men, theyr greedineſſe to ſeeke, and theyr ſearching through all landes and Seas, doo prooue that couetouſneſſe, and the loue and deſyre of ryches, haue proclaymed open warre, not only agaynſt vertues, but alſo againſt lyfe.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt a great ſumme of money.
Reaſon.
A great, and harde, and grieuous weight, and alſo the office of a Keeper, as I ſayd before: for the proude deſire
to haue, of Lordes and owners, hath made you Keepers, commaundyng you to doo and ſuffer all thynges, only to the ende that money may be gotten and hoorded vppe. And ſo that whiche was fyrſt inuented to ſerue mens vſes and neceſſities, is conuerted to theyr feare and carefulneſſe. To be grieued, and vexed, and with dread to beholde the burnyng of other mens houſes, to ſtande in doubt of the treachery of Theeues, and the runnyng away of ſeruantes, neyther to doo good vnto a mans ſelfe, nor to other, but only to hang your noſes ouer your gold, whiche ſerueth you to no purpoſe, theſe be your ryches.
Sorowe.
Some body, I knowe not who, hath taken away my money, whiche I had at home.
Reaſon.
Truely, it is vyle, tranſitorie, and not a mans owne, whiche may be ſtolne, or taken away by force.
Sorowe.
I cannot fynde my money, whiche I ſealed vp in my bagges.
Reaſon.
I wyll tell thee a ſtorie that is not very olde. There was, not long ſince in Italie, a certayne noble and woorthie Gentleman, ryche in auncient poſſeſſions, but rycher in vertues, howbeit not ſo in money, who in ſuch ſort gouerned his money whiche he hadde, as one that had learned to be the Lorde and diſpoſer, not the keeper thereof: he hadde a ſonne, that was his eldeſt, who was very apte and induſtrious in affayres apparteynyng to the iudiciall Court, and ciuile controuerſies, inſomuche that through diligence and ſparyng, he hadde gotten togeather great ryches, and an huge maſſe of golde: and it was a ſtrange matter to behold in the auncient father youthly bountifulneſſe, and in the young ſonne aged niggiſhneſſe: His father often times exhorted hym not to defraude him ſelfe of that which was his owne, not to forget to haue regard of godlineſſe, and of his eſtimation, neyther that in reſpect of gold he ſhould be careleſſe of his honour and honeſtie, of his duetie and right, which nature required at his hande: and finally, that he would ſo diſpoſe and conforme him ſelfe, that with his riches he might at laſt helpe him ſelfe, his olde mother, his young brethren and kynſfolke, and the poore, to whiche ende ryches were gotten, and not to be watched and warded, and as it were to be a cōtinual puniſhment to the owners. Thus ſpake his father oftentimes vnto him. But the old prouerbe is true,
It is a vayne labour to tell a tale to one that is deafe, or a couetous perſon. Nowe it hapned, not long tyme after, that this young man was ſent abrode about affayres of the common wealth, and with certayne ſpeciall and choyce men trauayled about buſineſſe vnto the Pope of Rome, and when he was departed, his father immediatly takyng the occaſion, makyng new keyes vnto the doores of his chamber and cheaſt, entred in, and tooke away the Treaſure out of that lurkyng Den whereas it lay and profited no body, and very brauely apparelled hym ſelfe therewith, and his wyfe, and his chyldren, and all his familie: He bought hym ſelfe alſo goodly Horſes, Place, and gorgeous houſholde ſtuffe, and laſtly a very fayre houſe and large, but nothing trim, which he enlarged with new buildinges; and furniſhed it with moſt beautiful pictures, and al other implementes, which a gentlemans eſtate, and a plentiful lyfe required: & moreouer he gaue much a way to the poore. And as for the bagges in which his ſonnes gold had been, he filled them ful of ſande and grauell of the ryuer, and ſealyng them vp ſafely, leaft them where he found them, and made euery thyng faſt, and ſo departed. All theſe thinges were doone in ſhort tyme, for that the good olde man hadde a willing minde, and the monie alſo was in a redineſſe. Nowe when the ſonne was returned home, his brethren went foorth to meete hym: at the ſight of whom he was ſuddeinly amazed, woonderyng at their apparel, and other furniture, whiche was farre altered from that is was woont to be: Wherevppon he demaunded of them where they hadde ſo fayre garmentes, and thoſe goodly Horſes: Who ioyfully, and in chyldyſhe ſimplicitie, anſwered, that al was my Lorde theyr fathers, and that he had many moe fayre Horſes at home in his Stable: And moreouer that theyr father and mother were ſumptuouſly apparrelled, and hadde great ſtore of Princely garmentes. Wherefore he beganne more and more to woonder at euery thyng. From thence proceedyng, when he came within his fathers houſe, he ſcarce knewe his Parentes, nor ſo muche as the very walles of the houſe: whereat beyng not in a ſimple admiration, but rather diſtracted in mynde, and as it were in a traunce, he went
haſtily vnto his Coffer, where when he ſawe nothyng chaunged vnto outwarde appearaunce, he ſome deale contented his mynde for that preſent. And becauſe that the preſence and haſt whiche his Collegeneſſe made to depart, woulde not permit hym to make farther delay, he ſuddaynely opened his Coffer, wherein beholdyng his bagges faſt ſhutte, and ſtuffed ful as they were woont to be, he forced no more, but ſo departed. Shortly after, when as his publique function was fyniſhed, he came home, and gooyng into his chamber, ſhut the doore vnto him, and opened his Coffer, and ſearched his bagges, and findyng his golde to be turned into ſande, he made a loude outcrie. His father came runnyng haſtily, and, What is the matter, ſonne, quoth he, that thou cryeſt out and weepeſt? O father, ſayth he, I haue loſt my money, whiche with ſo muche watchyng, labour, and trauayle, I had gotten togeather and layde vppe in theſe bagges, and I am robbed thereof euen in your houſe. Howe art thou robbed, anſwered his father? Doo I not ſee thy bagges ſtroutyng full? But, O father, ſayde he, weepyng, it is ſande, and not money: and with that he opened the bagges, and ſhewed it vnto his father. Then anſwered the olde man, with a countenance nothyng chaunged, What ſkilleth it, ſonne, to thee, whether they be full of ſande or money? A notable ſaying truely, and proceedyng from a ſingular iudgement: For vnto many, money is vnprofitable and without vſe, and dooeth them none other good, but fylleth a roome, and occupieth theyr myndes, and among moſte men it is wickedly vſed, and but among very fewe employed to good purpoſes.
Sorowe.
I haue loſte my money whiche I loued.
Reaſon.
Thou art releaſed of a fylthy loue: For the loue of money is couetouſneſſe: The leſſe thou loueſt it, the leſſe thou ſhalt deſyre it. For the ſaying of the Satiryke Poet is founde by experience to be true, That he wyſheth leaſt for money, that hath leaſt money: and the loſſe of that is to be wyſhed, yea, yf it were ſome great good thyng, vnto whiche a greater miſchiefe is inſeparably ioyned.
Sorowe.
I haue loſte my ſweete ſuccour and ſtay of my lyfe.
Reaſon.
How knoweſt thou whether it woulde haue been a bytter deſtruction
or not? Many moe haue peryſhed by meanes of ryches, then of pouertie.
Of Suretiſhyp. The .xiiii. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I AM moleſted with Suretiſhyppe.
Reaſon.
Thou complaynedſt erewhyle of the loſſe of thy money, and nowe thou complayneſt of the caſtyng of it away. Haſt thou not by wyllyng enteryng into bandes, throwne away thy money? This is a common madneſſe among the greater ſort of people, by meanes whereof a man may ſoone looſe both his money and his friende.
Sorow.
I haue geuen my fayth and troth for another.
Reaſon.
Thou ſhalt breake it for thy ſelfe, and to thyne owne hynderaunce and loſſe ſhalt learne, how pleaſaunt a thyng it is to owe nothyng, and lyue out of pryſon and fetters.
Sorowe.
I haue geuen my woorde in aſſurance for my friende.
Reaſon.
Hence foorth geue vnto thy poore friendes, golde, ſyluer, Wyne, Oyle, Corne, Cloath, Houſes, Farmes, counſell and comfort, finally deuide all that thou haſt among them, only keepe vnto thy ſelfe thy ſweete libertie, whiche thou ſhalt neuer geue to nor for any other.
Sorowe.
I haue geuen my woorde for another: and the day of payment is come.
Reaſon.
Dyddeſt thou not knowe that it woulde come? or dyddeſt thou not hope to lyue ſo long, or at leaſt thyne heyre, whom thou haſt wrapped in voluntarie bandes? But it happeneth well, that the punyſhment of the errour, falleth vppon his pate that committed the errour. But I knowe that it was the deferryng that deceyued thee. The meane tyme betweene the day of promyſe and the day of payement, you meaſure vaynely in your mynde, whiche as other tymes doo, doo ſeeme long, but when they be once paſt, appeere to haue been very ſhort: For away flye the houres, the dayes, the nyghtes, weekes, monethes, yeeres, cyrcuites of ſeuen yeeres, ages, and whatſoeuer ſeemeth to be fartheſt of, is euen at hande: Inſomuche as that whiche you nowe
beholde amazed, within the compaſſe of a fewe monethes, yf your eyes were open, you ſhoulde cleerely diſcerne through many ages: but you, as yf you hadde the tyme at your commaundement, and it were not gouerned by it owne nature, imagine that your prefixed tyme wyll neuer come, nor the dayes paſſe away: and in this hope, as it were, with cloſed eyes paſſyng ouer the headlong downefall, yee ſeeme vnto your ſelues to be pleaſaunt and courteous in woordes, vndertakyng for others, as though theſe woordes and priuate promyſes woulde not ſoone come abrode to lyght, and bryng great trouble and hurly burly with them.
Sorowe.
I am become Suretie for my friende.
Reaſon.
Thou knoweſt that a mannes friendes want, yf his friende haue wherewithall, muſt be with preſent ſupply releeued. But doo not thou encomber thy ſelfe, neyther promyſe any thyng agaynſt to morowe: which thyng I woulde not ſpeake, yf there coulde none other ſhyft be made then by promyſing. For to what purpoſe is it to promyſe? If thou canſt not perfourme, thou dooeſt foolyſhly: if thou canſt, thou dooeſt ſuperfluouſly. But you are moſte couetous of the thinges, and moſte lauiſhe of your promyſes, as though in deede thoſe promyſes dyd not require the thynges them ſelues. But if thou aunſweare me, that at that preſent thou haddeſt not wherewithall to helpe hym, and waſt in hope thou ſhouldeſt haue ſhortly after, whereof thou waſt deceyued: then haddeſt thou not learned ſufficiently, that hope is the moſt deceitfull thyng in the worlde. You ſhal finde nothyng that deceiueth you ſo often, and yet is there nothyng that you beleeue ſo wyllyngly, ſhe is ſo craftie and flatteryng, ſo ſweetly and ſetretly ſhe inſinuateth her ſelfe, and is hardly pulled from you.
Sorowe.
I am become a ſuretie.
Reaſon.
I thinke thou haddeſt forgotten the notable precept of Thales Mileſius, It is a loſſe to enter into Suretiſhip:
and alſo that whiche the wiſe man ſaide, which I ſuppoſe not vnprofitable to be recited, which being tranſlated into Latine by the poet Auſonius, ſoundeth after this maner, Become ſuretie, ſaith he, and thou art neere a ſhrewd turne. I coulde recite a thouſand examples, to proue yt promiſers, vndertakers, & ſureties, are worthy to taſt of repētance, but I wil touch none by name. Let euery man certifie
hym ſelfe of the trueth, & recount with hym ſelfe, what great loſſe hath hapned vnto many by meanes of ſuretiſhyppe.
Sorowe.
I haue doone amiſſe by voluntary byndyng my ſelfe.
Reaſon.
This treſpaſſe ſhall not neede the fire of Purgatorie after thy deceſſe, it ſhalbe purged where it was committed: For it is of the kynde of offences that carrye theyr Purgatorie with them.
Sorowe.
I haue bounde my ſelfe by my promyſe.
Reaſon.
Releaſe thy ſelfe then by payment, and let the hand diſcharge hym whom his tongue hath wrapped in bandes: and it ſhall doo thee good to haue been bounde, for when thou haſt once eſcaped, thou wilt alwayes the more abhorre hamperinges.
Of loſſe of tyme. The .xv. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Lament the loſſe of my tyme.
Reaſon.
This complaint were more iuſt, then that is whiche goeth before, for that the loſſe of money is of ſmaller account then is the loſſe of tyme, foraſmuche as money is not ſo neceſſarie vnto well lyuyng, and when it is loſte it may be recouered, but tyme is neceſſarie and can neuer be recalled, but only that money is taken from men agaynſt theyr wylles, and they ſuffer theyr tyme to runne awaye wyllyngly. And therefore although I confeſſe that thoſe loſſes are the greater which the faulte of hym that ſuſteyneth them dooth encreaſe and make greater: notwithſtandyng I denye that there is iuſte cauſe of complaynt, where he that ſuffereth any thyng, ſuffereth it wyllyngly.
Sorowe.
I looſe my tyme vnwyllyngly.
Reaſon.
Who ſhall conſtrayne one that is vnwyllyng, but only couetouſneſſe, that is mother vnto buſineſſe? This vice only ſayth Terence, dooeth olde age bryng vnto men: we are all the ſort of vs more neere and couetous then reaſon requireth.
Herein he toucheth olde men: And truely in this niggyſhneſſe, all are become olde men. For couetouſneſſe hath inuaded all ages, all ſtates,
all ſexes, and ſhortneth the tyme, and abrydgeth the miſerable dayes of wretched mortall men. Whyle you be buſie about this one thyng, ye conſume your whole lyfe, beyng vnmindful, in a manner, both of your ſelues, and your pleaſures: whiche plague yf it infected men agaynſt theyr wylles, then myght tyme alſo be taken from a man agaynſt his wyll, and the complaynt were reaſonable for the loſſe of ſo pretious a thyng.
Sorowe.
It is not couetouſneſſe that ſnatcheth away my tyme, but neceſſitie.
Reaſon.
What neceſſitie, I pray thee is this, whiche is able to take that from thee, whiche is onely thyne owne? I ſpeake this, for that ryches, honour, power, aucthoritie, ſouereignetie, and ſuche lyke, Fortune geueth and taketh away at her pleaſure, but time ſhee can not take from any, contrarie to theyr lykyng, but it ſlydeth away by lytle and lytle, though a man employ it not, and by ſmall and ſmall conſumeth quite away: Neyther doo you attende it, vntyl it be gone, then your complayntes doo reſounde, but too late and to no purpoſe, then lament ye the loſſe of your tyme, but you ſay nothyng of your owne fault.
Sorowe.
Onely neceſſitie conſtrayned mee to looſe my tyme.
Reaſon.
I demaunde agayne of thee, what vrgent neceſſitie was it, vnleſſe that whyle thou waſt buſied about thy Lordes and Maiſters afayres, thou neglectedſt thyne owne, as though couetouſneſſe and vnſatiable deſyre of gayne were not the onely matter that enforced thee therevnto? Lay aſyde thine owne deſyres, and thou ſhalt no longer obey thy Lordes and Maiſters deſyres. But this incurable poyſon is ſo diſperſed throughout your Veynes, and crept into the principall partes of your bodyes, that it dulleth your ſenſes, and ſtealeth from you not your tyme onely, but alſo your libertie and lyfe, whyle you perceyue no ſuche matter. But yf haply thou haſt not beſtowed thy tyme in purſuyng of thyne owne couetouſneſſe, or of others, but in the honeſt affayres of thy Common wealth, this is no looſyng of tyme, but a commendable employing of the moſt precious thyng, vppon the moſt deereſt thyng that is in all the worlde, wherein thou haſt diſcharged the duetie of a good man, and of a notable
Citizen: Although I am not ignoraunt, that the common ſore of men doo call that tyme loſt, whiche is not beſtowed vppon couetouſneſſe, when as in trueth that is the loſt tyme whiche is beſtowed vppon it: and howe knowe we, whether thou meane the loſſe of thy tyme after the common manner of ſpeakyng? Whiche yf I thought to be ſo, leauyng of the ſaluing of ſo incurable a ſore, I woulde confeſſe that it is not thy tyme, but thou thy ſelfe that art vtterly loſt and caſt away. But yf ſo be, as I coulde rather wyſhe, thou wouldeſt, I ſay not geue, but render thy tyme vnto thy GOD, whiche thou canſt not doo without true godlyneſſe, knowe then, that this were a great and ineſtimable lucre: For, by the expenſe of a lytle tyme, thou ſhouldeſt gaine immortalitie: And what Merchant is he, that euer hapned vppon the lyke fortunate exchange?
Sorowe.
The cauſe of my looſyng of my tyme is farre other.
Reaſon.
I vnderſtande not what cauſe thou meaneſt: for yf thou thynkeſt that thou waſt conſtrayned therevnto by meanes of anger, or ſorowe, or loue, or any other paſſion of the minde, thou art deceyued. For there is the lyke reaſon in them, and in couetouſneſſe, whereof I ſpake erewhyle, they be all voluntarie, and none of them conſtrayned. For that is euident vnto common ſenſe, and by Tulliè diſputed in manie places, and very often repeated. Yf none of theſe be the cauſe, what is it other then ſl
•
uth and idleneſſe? And ſo we come to that whiche Seneca ſayeth, Moſt ſhamefull is that loſse, whiche commeth through negligence.
Sorowe.
Wofull neceſſitie conſtrayned me to looſe my tyme.
Reaſon.
Yet I vnderſtande not the matter: For, yf thyne enimie haue thee in holde, yf death be at hande, theſe thynges I confeſſe may hynder good actions, but not vertuous and godly thoughtes, whiche in that ſtate are moſt eminent, and apparent. In whiche cares and cogitations truely the tyme is not loſt, I knowe not whether leſſe in any other thyng: whiche cogitations truely may eyther goe into Regulus Barrell, or Phalaris Bull, or goe vp vppon Theodorus Cyrenenſis Gallowes, and no body let them. Thus whiche way foeuer thou turneſt thy ſelfe, the blame of looſyng thy tyme, ſhall be returned vppon thy ſelfe. Howbeit you, accordyng to your cuſtome,
accuſing nature for makyng the tyme tranſitorie, although heere be nothyng eternall, acquite your ſelues of euery thyng, when as in deede ye be gyltie of all. For all of you, for the moſt part, doo looſe your tyme, or rather caſt it away, and contemne it as a vile thyng, and nothyng woorth, whiche I woulde God you woulde beſtowe in ſeekyng after vertue and glorie, and not alwayes in infamie and euerlaſting reproche, although to ſpeake truely, whatſoeuer is not conuerted to the vſe that it was ordeyned for, may be ſayde to be loſt. To this ende it is euident that man was borne, and had the benefice of tyme geuen hym, that he myght honour and loue his Creator, and thynke vppon hym: and whatſoeuer is doone beſyde this, is doubtleſſe loſt, and caſt away.
Of vnfortunate playing at Tables. The xvi. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Haue loſt at Table playing.
Reaſon.
Dyd I not tell thee when thou wonneſt, that it was but vzurie, and not gayne?
Sorowe.
I am drawne dry with gamyng.
Reaſon.
This game is of the ſame qualitie that Phiſitions be, by miniſtring of a lule, to drawe foorth a great deale: but beleeue mee, thou haſt more cauſe now to reioyce, then when thou triumphedſt with falſe ioy. Better is ſharpe chaſticement, then deceitfull flatterie. The lytle vantage which thou gotteſt then, dyd bryng thee vnto the whirlepoole of gaming now, and this loſſe wyll reclayme thee thence agayne. It is better to goe the right way with a foule brydle, then to be dryuen into a pyt out of the way with a golden payre of reignes.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt at tables.
Reaſon.
But thou haſt wonne at the game of manners, yf what thou haſt doone thou marke diligently: otherwyſe good medicines were in vayne geathered togeather for an incurable diſeaſe, yf neyther loſſe nor ſhame coulde reuoke thee from this bottomleſſe pyt of deſtruction: for when as experience bryngeth no profite, there is it in vayne to ſeeke to doo good with woordes.
Of her vnto whom one was aſſured, iudged vnto another. The .xvii. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
THe Iudges ſentence haue taken from me her, to whom I was aſſured.
Reaſon.
Sentences of Iudges haue been againſt ſome deceyptful, agaynſt ſome playnely wrongful.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt her, to whom I was aſſured, by a verdict of Court.
Reaſon.
Some by craft, and ſome by ſwoorde, and whiche is a meanes of all other moſt ſhameful, ſome haue loſt their wiues by golde. A man hath nothyng that is his owne: at the one ſide is theft, on the other deceypt, then rapine, next prayers, then money, and laſt of all, death. By this wheele, the gouernement of temporall goodes is turned vp and downe, and that whiche was ones, becommeth anothers, and anon ſhall paſſe to the thyrde: which yf it be to be borne withal in profitable thynges, in hurtfull and noyſome thynges it is to be reioyced at. And what marueyle is it, yf humane thynges be turned vp and downe, ſeeyng man hym ſelfe is turned, and ſtandeth not ſtyll, but as it is written, Commeth foorth as a Flower, and is troden downe, and flieth away lyke a ſhadowe, and neuer continueth in one ſtate: Thou complayneſt that thou haſt loſt her, to whom thou waſt aſſured, who in paſſing away, & euery day decreaſyng, dooeſt continually looſe thy ſelfe.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt in iudgement her, to whom I was aſſured.
Reaſon.
Some contende in the fielde: but it is ſafer to contende in lawe then in warre, with ſedules then with ſwoordes. Thou haſt read in Virgil, what ſtryfe and contention there was betweene Lauiniaès ſuiters, and what was the ende of the warre? The wyfe followeth the conquerour, and death followeth hym that is conquered: thou haſt loſt thy ſpouſe, and ſaued thy lyfe.
Sorowe.
The Iudge hath berefte me of my ſpouſe.
Reaſon.
An Adulter or a Theefe perhaps woulde haue taken her away. It is a lyghter matter to looſe her whom a man is aſſured vnto, then to looſe his true wyfe: For in the one, hope onely is loſt: in the other, a thyng certaine. Leſſe is the loſſe of a thyng hoped for, then a thyng in poſſeſſion, and to ſpeake the ſame otherwyſe, of hope, then of an effect.
Sorowe.
In iudgement haue I loſt my beloued ſpouſe.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt not loſt her, but haſt learned that ſhe was not thyne.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt her, vnto whom I was betrothed.
Reaſon.
He that looſeth his wyfe, is delyuered of many cares, but he that looſeth his ſpouſe, is preſerued: both of theſe are good, but the ſeconde is the better. And why ſhoulde it not be the better, foraſmuche as it is the next thyng, eyther not to haue any wounde at all, or to haue a preſent remedie to cure it. But you beyng carried foorth by the force of your minde, and ledde along by great and blynde deſyre, doo wyſhe for marriage, whiche when you be entred into, then doo your vexe you ſelues with continuall griefe and complaintes, and then repent you of the deede, when it can not be vndoone, and when your repentance is vnprofitable, and commeth too late.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt her, vnto whom I was aſſured, and the hope whiche I had of chyldren.
Reaſon.
Myngle not togeather lamentations of ſundrie kyndes: for that whereof thou ſpakeſt laſt, is another part of the raſhe deſyre of mortall men. For this it is, ye deſyre to be married, and to haue iſſue by your wyues: but the goddes doo not graunt alwayes vnto men that whiche ſhall pleaſe them, but that whiche ſhall profite them. Thou remembreſt in Apuleius Madaurenſis, how that the poore Mayden, that was fallen into the Theeues handes, with the raignes of her brydle turned the miſerable Aſſe, vpon whiche ſhe roade, into that part of the three wayes in whiche there was moſt danger, but he forced to goe the contrary, whereas it was the ſafeſt way, and couertly reprooued the foolyſhe wench that haſted forwarde to her owne hinderance: But in the meane whyle that they were thus ſtryuyng, the Theeues, whom they thought they had eſcaped, came ruſhyng vpon them, by whom the Mayden, who ſo carefully contended for her owne deſtruction, was carried away into wofull captiuitie. Not muche vnlyke to this is the contention betweene the prouidence of GOD, and the follie of man, concernyng the iourneyng and paſſyng foorth of this lyfe: For the prouidence of GOD, whiche is of thynges that are to come, dryueth you thyther, where all thynges are pleaſaunt and without danger, agaynſt whiche ſtriueth your blynde foolyſhneſſe, whiche fauoureth her owne wretchedneſſe, in obeying and geuyng
credite vnto ſuche miſchiefes as myght well be auoyded, vntyll ſuddayne miſeries catch you by the backes.
Sorowe.
I am ouerthrowen in the Lawe, and haue loſt her, vnto whom I was made ſure.
Reaſon.
Thou art woorthie to haue wonne: for when two ſtryue for one woman, he that hath her, looſeth, and he that hath wonne her, is ouercome, and he that is ouercome, is a conquerour, and a free man at his owne libertie.
Of the loſſe of a mans wyfe. The .xviii. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
ALas, I haue loſt my wyfe.
Reaſon.
O frowarde diſpoſition, and ſtrange nature of a man, that weepeſt at the buriall of thy wyfe, and dauncedſt when thou waſt married vnto her?
Sorowe.
I haue loſt my wyfe.
Reaſon.
O madde man, ſing the brydale ſong: It is now tyme to weare Crownes and Garlandes, and to be decked with ſpecial Flowres and Noſegayes, diſpatch, and make an ende. Thou haſt gotten the vpper hande in a dangerous conflict, and art deliuered from a long beſeegyng.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt my wyfe.
Reaſon.
Thou meaneſt that thou haſt loſt her, in that ſignification, that men ſay they haue loſt an Ague, or a Byle, or Scabbes. And ſometyme it is a kynde of gayne, to looſe.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt my wyfe.
Reaſon.
Perhappes thou neuer gaynedſt more vpon one day: out of what fetters art thou eſcaped? From what ſhypwracke haſt thou ſwum to ſhoare?
Sorowe.
But I haue loſt a good wyfe.
Reaſon.
All men vſe to ſay ſo, yea they that knowe the contrarie: and although a good wyfe, or rather a good woman, be a rare and ſtrange creature vppon the earth, notwithſtandyng to auoyde altercation, I wyll graunt thee that thou haſt loſt ſuche a wyfe as thou ſpeakeſt of: neyther wyll I therefore aunſweare thee, as once I aunſweared in Seneca, whyle this ſame queſtion was handled, to witte,
That yf thou madeſt her good, thou mayeſt make another good: and yf thou foundeſt her good, thou mayeſt finde another good. But I change myne opinion, for I woulde not haue thee often to aſſay ſo dangerous a matter, whiche although it haue once happilie chaunced, yet were it follie to aduenture it many tymes: An euyll woman ſhall ſooner fynde an hundred, then a good woman fynde one lyke to her ſelfe. And therefore, who ſo hath had an euyll wyfe, let hym be afearde of ſuche another: and he that hath had a good one, let hym not hope for the lyke: but let both of them take heede, the one, that he encreaſe not his miſerie, the other, that he impayre not his felicitie. Thus euery way, it is beſt to abſtayne from ſeconde marriage. And therefore nowe, yf thou haue loſt a good wyfe, as thou ſayeſt, reioyce rather for that whiche is paſt, then conceyue hope for that whiche is to come, neyther commit thy ſhyppe often to the winde, becauſe thou haſt often arriued ſafe at the ſhoare.
Sorowe.
Death hath looſed the band of wedlocke, wherewith I was bounden.
Reaſon.
Bind not thy ſelfe agayne: thynke with thy ſelfe howe excellent and incomparable a thyng libertie is, and embrace the counſell of Cicero, who when he had an olde wyfe, of hart of oke, of whoſe death there was no hope to be conceyued, he ſued a diuorſe, and was diſmiſſed from her: But when his friendes exhorted hym to marrie another, he aunſweared, That he coulde not attende both a wyfe, and alſo the ſtudie of wyſedome.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt a good wyfe.
Reaſon.
How yf this be no loſſe, but a gayne, and an auoydyng of great danger? For as a man may haply fynde a good wyfe, ſo where ſhall he ſeeke for a conſtant wyfe? Well knowen is the ſayeing of the woorthie Poet, Women be alwayes diuers, and changeable.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt a good wyfe, and in her flooryſhyng yeeres.
Reaſon.
Art thou not then ſufficiently acquainted with the manners of women? Howe manie chaſt young women doo we ſee to become wanton olde wyues? For when the heate of letcherie once taketh holde in the bones of an olde iade, it burneth the more violently, as it were fyre in drye woodde. And nowe thou haſt auoyded the alteration of lyfe
that was at hande, or els to the ende thou wouldeſt be out of danger, thou haſt made prouiſion to eſchewe the burden and tediouſneſſe of olde age approchyng. The yoke of marriage is greeuous vnto young men, but moſt greeuous, hard, and importable vnto olde men.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt a young wyfe.
Reaſon.
Whether iſſue be ſought for by marriage, or els pleaſure, whereof the one belongeth vnto an huſbande, the other to a laſciuious perſon, youth is apteſt vnto them both: but whether thou receyuedſt the fyrſt of theſe of thy wyfe, or the ſeconde, thou waſt deſyrous ſhe ſhoulde come to that age in whiche ſhe ſhoulde be vnmeete for them both: or whether thou hopedſt that ſhe that was by nature become vnfitte for theſe matters, coulde be amended by old age: which truely was but a vayne expectation, and a foolyſhe hope.
Sorowe.
Hauyng loſt my ſweete wyfe, I am nowe alone.
Reaſon.
It is a good ſolitarineſſe, to be without euyll companie. There is nothyng ſofter then an emptie bed, nor harder, then when it is fylled with twayne, ſpecially vnto a buſied minde, and him that loueth ſweete ſleepes, and reſteth in the contemplation of ſome great and excellent matter in his minde: for there is nothing more enimie vnto notable attemptes, then the companie of a woman. But I am not ignorant, what is wont to be ſayde agaynſt this, by ſuche as take pleaſure in their owne miſerie, They that knowe not marriage, ſay they, condemne marriage: and as it is ſayde in the common Prouerbe, Batchelars wyues ſhall be beaten, and well taught: but I ſay contrarie, that there are none that vſe to complayne of marriage, as far as euer I heard, but ſuche as haue borne the burden of marriage.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt a very good wyfe.
Reaſon.
And euen thoſe that ſeeme to be beſt and moſt louyng to theyr huſbandes, ſometyme wyll burne with ielouſie and ſuſpition more feruently then any other, by meanes whereof, domeſticall peace muſt needes become on fyre. To what ende therfore is thy complaint? Thou haſt loſt thy wyfe, and founde thy libertie, a ſingle lyfe, peace, ſleepe, quietneſſe: Now ſhalt thou paſſe foorth the nyght without braulyng.
Sorowe.
I am without a wyfe.
Reaſon.
And alſo without an aduerſaris: Now ſhalt thou begynne to be Lorde and Maiſter, both of thy ſelfe, and thyne. Thou mayeſt
ariſe in the morning, and goe foorth when thou wylt, and come home agayne at nyght as late as thou luſt: thou mayeſt be alone al the day, or keepe companie with whom thou pleaſe, and there ſhalbe none to controule thee.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt my wyfe.
Reaſon.
Thou mayeſt now reuoke thy libertie and quietneſſe into thy chamber, which of late thou haddeſt loſt and exiled, that ſhalbe vnto thee a companion more profitable then any wyfe.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt a good and a fayre wyfe.
Reaſon.
It is the part of a foole to loue his fetters, yea, though they were made of golde.
Of a ſhrewyshe wyfe. The .xix. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Haue a ſhrewyſhe wyfe.
Reaſon.
It were better for thee thou hadſt loſt her: and euen nowe thou complaynedſt that thou haddeſt loſt her in deede.
Sorowe.
I haue an vnquiet wyfe.
Reaſon.
For the firſt trouble that a man commeth into, perhaps he is to be pardoned or pitied, but for the ſecond time he is to be blamed: and he that is not ſufficiently plagued with one wyfe, is worthie to haue many.
Sorowe.
I haue a ſhrewde wyfe.
Reaſon.
In other matters thou mayſt ſome deale blame fortune, but in choyſe of a wyfe, ſpecially of a ſecond wyfe, thou canſt blame none but thy ſelfe, for thou haſt procured this miſchief vnto thy ſelfe.
Sorow.
I ſuffer a malapert wife.
Reaſon.
Set on fire wet chaffe, breake thy tyles, and for other matters thou art prouided for: thus ſhalt thou haue ſufficient meanes to driue thee out of thy doores, to wyt, ſmoke, rayne, & thy ſhrewyſhe wyfe.
Sorowe.
I haue an vntruſtie wyfe.
Reaſon.
Then art thou not without daunger: The wiues of Agamemnon and Scipio Affricane made away with their huſbandes, that in the meane whyle I may ſpeake nothyng of Amphiareus, of Deiphobus, and of Sampſon, with others, ouerlong and manie to be recited. But as for the other ſorte, they are innumeble, whoſe wiues neither conſtrayned their huſbandes to die, nor ſuffered them to lyue.
Sorowe.
Thou telleſt me of miſchiefes that are very wel knowen, but I ſeeke for remedie.
Reaſon.
There be ſome that in this raſe woulde geue thee counſel to chaſtice
her, and by correction to bryng her manners from woorſe to better, and in that only to apply thy diligence: but what is mine opinion herein? Truely to chaſtice her, yf chaſtiſement wyl auayle, but yf it be in vayne, then to arme thy ſelfe with patience, to endeuour thy ſelfe to loue her, and that whiche thou art conſtrayned to doo, to doo it wyllyngly. Vacro hath wrytten a Satyre▪
whiche they cal Menippea, concernyng the duetie of an huſbande, there ſhalt thou reade the ſhort, but effectual counſayle of that learned man concernyng this matter, expreſſed in theſe woordes, The wyues faulte muſt eyther be taken away, that is to ſay, corrected, or ſuffered. And this reaſon of the ſaying, though ſhort, yet ſine, is lykewyſe aleadged, He that taketh away the faulte, ſayth he, maketh his wyfe more tollerable, but be that ſuffereth it, maketh hym ſelfe the better. Whiche ſaying ſome other writers haue thus interpreted: That this fault in a mans wyfe yf it cannot be corrected, muſt be borne withall, whiche a man may well doo with honeſtie yenough, for that an inconuenience is better then a miſchiefe: and this they ſay was only Varroes meanyng.
Sorowe.
My wyfe is malapert and vnquiet.
Reaſon.
Suffer her manners yf they can be chaunged, and how thou ſhalt lyue abrode, learne at home with Socrates. And ſince that he endured twayne at once, and other haue abydden moe togeather, do not thou fal to the ground vnder one burden.
Sorowe.
I haue an vnquiet wyfe.
Reaſon.
Vnto whom may it not happen to haue an vnquiet wyfe, vnleſſe it be to hym that altogeather abſtayneth from marriage? ſince that Hadriane the Emperour, and the moſte excellent and courteous Prince Auguſtus, the one hauyng to wyfe Sabina, the other Scribonia, were both troubled with crabbed and vnquiet peeces, and of very rough behauiour, wel deſeruyng to be diuorſed: and Cato lykewyſe, ſurnamed Cenſorius, beyng a man of ſo ſeuere and inuincible a mynde as he was, hapned to marrie with one called Paula, a fierce and proude woman, and, that thou mayeſt marueyle the more at the matter, deſcended of a baſe and obſcure familie: whiche I doo note the rather, to the entent that no man may hope that he can eſcape the troubles of marryage eyther by matchyng with a wyfe of a baſe ſtocke, or poore callyng, other
wyſe then by keeping hym ſelfe alwayes vnmarryed: but thoſe whiche he cannot eſcape, ſet hym learne to beare them with patience, and not vexe hym ſelfe with kickyng and ſtryuing againſt them, and boaſtyngly ſha
•
pen that yoke whiche he hath wyllingly vndertaken.
Sorowe.
I ſuffer an importunate, and an vntamed wyfe.
Reaſon.
Thou dooeſt well, for that muſte be borne whiche cannot be layde downe, yea, although it doo wryng.
Sorow.
I haue a moſt vnquiet wyfe.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt an occaſion whereby to wyn the commendacion of patience, whereby to wyſhe for quietneſſe, whereby to loue to trauayle from home, and to be loath to returne, where both thy tongue and thy ſticke muſt needes be walking.
Of the ſtealing away of a mans wyfe. The .xx. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
MY wyfe is ſtolne away.
Reaſon.
All violence, I confeſſe, is grieuous vnto hym that ſuffereth it: but yf thou conſyder of this matter indifferently, I pray thee what cauſe of griefe bryngeth it? foraſmuche as yf thy wyfe were an vnquiet woman, the loſyng of her is the releaſyng from a payneful hurden.
Sorowe.
My wyfe is ſtolne away.
Reaſon.
If he be rewarded that cureth ſome griefe of the body, what is he woorthy to haue that relieueth the troubles of the mynd? If a Phiſition ſhould free thee of a Tertian Feuer, thou wouldeſt geue hym both thankes and money: and what wylt thou now geue hym that hath ryd thee of a Cotidian?
Sorowe.
My wyfe is taken from me.
Reaſon.
Thou knoweſt not howe muche thou art beholden to hym that hath taken her away, great care, and perpetual braulyng, and perhaps alſo no ſmall daunger, is with thy wyfe departed out of thy doores. Many haue been deſtroyed, who doubtleſſe hadde lyued, yf that by ſtealyng or otherwyſe they had loſt theyr wyues: among the miſchiefes of this lyfe, there is none worſe then domeſticall diſagreement.
Sorowe.
My wyfe is
ſtolne away, and gone.
Reaſon.
If ſhe be forcibly caryed away, forgeue her: but yf ſhe be gone willyngly, by one deede thou art doubly reuenged: For the Harlot is gone to her Knaue, and he hath carried that, whiche annoyed thee, into his owne houſe. For what maner of woman may her ſweete hart hope that ſhe wyll be vnto hym, that hath ſhewed her ſelfe ſo louing and truſtie to her huſbande?
Sorowe.
My wife is gone willyngly with him that carried her away.
Reaſon.
Let hym alone awhyle: it wyll not be long before he be weery of that whiche troubled thee. If men woulde conſider with them ſelues, what they goe about before they commit any wicked deede, they woulde not throwe them ſelues downe headlong ſo haſtily into offences: But nowe the repentance that foloweth them, condempneth theyr feruent appetites. You ſee nothyng but that whiche is doone, your eyes are in your backe, your face is blynde.
Sorow.
My wife is ſtolne from me.
Reaſon.
This kinde of miurie not ſo muche as kinges coulde eſcape: for Maſiniſſa ſtole away Syphax wyfe, and ſo dyd Herode Philips.
Sorowe.
My wyfe is ſtolne away.
Reaſon.
That whiche hath once hapned vnto thee, hapned twyce vnto Menelaus.
Of an vnchaſt wife. The .xxi. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Haue an vnchaſt wyfe at home.
Reaſon.
It were better that ſhe were ſtollen away, or were a ſhrewe, and of rough manners, rather then of wanton and diſhoneſt behauiour: Notwithſtanding, who ſo is of a liuely ſpirite, and valiant courage, and contemneth all mortal thynges, muſte endure whatſoeuer may happen. Mens miſeries are innumerable, agaynſt all whiche only vertue is oppoſed.
Sorowe.
I haue a diſhoneſt wyfe.
Reaſon.
Notable and excellent chaſtitie, hath made certayne matrones to arrogant. She feareth nothyng, who is gyltie to her ſelfe of nothing. And therfore that diſcōmoditie bringeth this benefite with it, that ſhe wyl begin now hereafter to be leſſe ſaucie and inſolent: For a giltie conſcience abateth the ſwelling pride of a womans minde, and commonly ſhe that knoweth that ſhe hath trode her ſhoe awrye,
wilbe afterwarde the more ſeruiceable to her huſband.
Sorowe.
I haue a wanton wife.
Reaſon.
Thou muſt not wonder at that if ſhe be faire, & if ſhe be foule thou needeſt not care for it.
Sorow.
My wife is incontinent.
Reaſon.
When a man bryngeth a fayre wyfe into his houſe, he ought alſo to remember the ſaying of the Satiryke Poet, Beautie and honeſtie do ſeldome dwel to geather: but yf ſhe be a foule ſlut, and do ſo abuſe her ſelfe, thou mayeſt reioyce that thou haſt founde ſo iuſte a cauſe to be diuorſed from her.
Sorowe.
My wyfe hath cōmitted adulterie.
Reaſon.
Adulterie many tymes hapneth vpon ouerhaſtie deſire of marriage, and often tymes alſo it is the punyſhment of another mans adulterie, and the more iuſt if it be of many. Recount with thy ſelfe, whether thou euer diddeſt that vnto another, whereby thou mayeſt thynke this worthily doone vnto thee. It is an vniuſt and an vnreaſonable complaint, to be grieued to ſuffer that, which thy ſelfe haſt doone: and the morall lawe wylleth to looke for that at another mans handes, whiche thou haſt doone to another: and to do that vnto another, whiche thou wouldeſt haue hym doo vnto thee: truely, it is ſo excellent a lawe, that the Heathen haue commended it, beyng ledde therevnto by the indifferencie and grauitie of the ſaying. But the licentiouſneſſe of humane wantonneſſe, beyng the repealer of al holſome lawes, dooth vtterly confounde al ryght and wrong. And thus then it hapneth, that adulterers ſometyme do meete togeather, who when they haue defiled theyr neyghbours wyues, yet can they not abyde theyr owne wiues ſo much as once to be ſeene in open ſtreate: and yf they perceiue that any man dooth but looke vppon them, they wil immediatly be redy to runne mad for iclouſie: So ſeuere vnto others, ſo partial vnto him ſelfe, ſo vndiſcrete a conſiderer of matters is euery particuler man.
Sorowe.
My wife hath broken her wyfely fidelitie towards me.
Reaſon.
See that thou breake not the ſame, not only vnto other married men, but alſo vnto thine owne wyfe. For there be ſome that requyre that of theyr wyues, whiche they them ſelues doo not performe, excuſyng theyr wantonnes vnder the title of dalliance, & puniſhing the ſame in others moſt ſeuerely as a moſt grieuous offence, who in geuyng all libertie to them ſelues, deny al things vnto other. Moſt vnequal
judges, who beyng them ſelues vnchaſte, do geue ſentence againſt incontinencie in others, and them ſelues will doo what they luſte without controulment, and are caried away after vncertayne and wandering venerie, as if they were ſubiect to no lawe. If the poore wife doo but looke a litle awrye, ſhe is ſtraight waies accuſed of whoordome: as though their huſbandes were theyr maiſters, and not theyr huſbandes, and they not theyr wyues and fellowes in the houſe and familie both of GOD and man, but were rather their handmaydens taken pryſoners in battayle, or bought for money: and as though thy wyfe ought thee more ſeruice, or fidelitie, then thou her: for there ought to be lyke duetie, equal loue, and mutual fidelitie in marriage. I excuſe not wyues, but I accuſe huſbands, and put them in the greateſt part of the blame. And many times the huſbande is an example, and procurer of his wyfe vnto folly, and many tymes there hath ryſen the begynning of the miſchief, where ought to haue been the remedie: although ſhamefaſtneſſe be the proper ornament of a woman, and wyſedome and conſtancie the peculiar commendacion of a man. And therefore all folly and lightneſſe of mynde, is by ſo muche the more foule in aman then in a woman, by howe muche grauitie is the more requyred in a man.
Sorowe.
I am heauie for my wyues whoredome.
Reaſon.
A common ſorowe, an auncient iniurie, and no leſſe frequented. For (alas I ſpeake it with bitter griefe) Mariage is not more commonly vſed, then is whoredome: and to ſpeake in fewe woordes, it is a thyng, as one ſayeth, whiche can neyther be ſuffered, nor prohibited, for that honeſtie forbiddeth the one,The aucthour ſpeaketh of his abhominable country. and letcherie the other. Dooeſt thou looke then to haue thyne only woman wholy to thy ſelfe, whiche thyng coulde neuer happen, no not to the moſt cruel Tyrantes that euer were, nor to the moſte mightie Princes that euer raigned, not in thyne age only, but in any heretofore? I omit late examples, leaſt haply I offende ſome that are lyuyng at this preſent, it were better to ſtryke Hercules, then a Clowne of the Countrey: neyther wyl I touche al auncient examples, but ſpare the good name and eſtimation of the moſte dread and noble men. But thou knoweſt them well, and although they ſay nothyng, yet repreſſe
thou thy mournyng, or els peruſe the Citie, ſearche neere hande among thy neyghbours, and at eche hande thou ſhalt find plentie, that eyther lament the loſſe of theyr good name, and the abandoned fidelitie of theyr marryage bed, or that, contrary to theyr opinion, are laughed to ſcorne of the common people. Theſe thyngs are ordinarie, not only to be heard with eares, but alſo to be ſeene with eyes, whereof thou ſhalt not myſſe in what part ſoeuer of the world thou trauayleſt. Howbeit the greater the examples be, the greater is the comfort. Thynke vppon thoſe Kynges and Lordes of the worlde, whom thou haſt ſeene, and then call to mynde thoſe of whom thou haſt read, or hearde of by report. Looke vpon the fable of Kyng Arthure, and the Hitories of other: conſyder of Olympias that was wyfe vnto Philip, and Cleopatra to Ptolomeê, and Clytemneſtra to Agamemnon, and Helen to Menelaus, and Paſiphè to Minos, & Phaedra to Theſeus: neyther woulde I haue thee to thynke that the citie of Rome, whiche in olde tyme was as it were the Temple of ſhamefaſtneſſe and honeſtie, is free from this miſchiefe. Cal to mynde Metella, whiche was wyfe to that Sylla, who yf he had knowne of his wyfes whoordome, whiche was commonly ſpoken of, not only at Rome and ouer al Italie, but alſo at Athens and ouer all Greece, veryly I ſuppoſe he woulde not haue vſurped the name of happie, whiche apparteyned nothyng vnto hym. Next vnto her thynke vppon Iulia the wyfe of Agrippa, whom on the one ſyde the woorthyneſſe of her huſbande, on the other the Maieſtie of her father, ought to haue ſtayed from wickedneſſe: and alſo her daughter, nothing vnlyke the mother eyther in name or laſciuiouſneſſe: and lykemyſe Iulia the wyfe of Seuerus, who folowed theyr ſteppes both in lyfe and fortune: an vnluckie name (I thynke) for the preſeruation of honeſtie. What ſhall I ſay of Domicia, the wyfe of Domician? What of Herculanilla the wyfe of Claudius? Or foraſmuche as this Emperours fortune was to haue Whoores to his Wyues, what ſhall I ſaye of Meſſalina, that was a moſt foule blemyſhe and reproche to the whole Empyre? Who leauyng the bed of her laſie and weeried huſband the Emperour,
vſed to goe about to the Stewes and brothel houſes, committing that there, whiche were ſhamefull to report? To what end ſhould I briefly touch theſe, or any other? or what brothell houſe were not to litle to receiue all the ſtrumpettes that were Emperours wyues? the rehearſyng of whoſe names, I confeſſe were neither honeſt, neyther in any part extenuateth the offence of adulterie, but maketh it rather more grieuous? Neuertheleſſe, the likeneſſe that men do perceyue in the miſeries and troubles of others vnto theyr owne, carrieth with it no ſmall efficacie of comfort: not that any man is ſo ſpiteful to reioyce at other mens harmes, but rather that it might be meeryly ſaide to be an intollerable deintieneſſe, or pride, for a man of meane callyng to take that impatiently, whiche he knoweth that the Lordes of all the worlde haue ſo often ſuffred. Euery man muſte take his owne fortune in good part. Whiche that they ought to tollerate with more indifferency then a common chaunce, it is wel knowne vnto all men, aſwell to the ſmalleſt as the greateſt, as alſo who ſo were moſte ouerthwart to graunt a veritie. And therfore thou ſeeſt, howe not only women that are married vnto huſbands, but alſo virgins that are vowed vnto God, do fal ſometime into this crime, and, alas there while, neither the reuerence of their ſo mightie a ſpouſe, is able to bridle their vnhappye and headlong ſoule. For, whom wil vnreſtrained and frantike letcherie ſpare, which ſtandeth not in feare of reuenge from God? or from whom wyl it abſteyne, whiche leaueth not the bodyes, which are conſecrated to God, vndefiled? Whiche ſo great and heynous monſters of moſt filthie luſt and laſciuiouſneſſe, are not ſeene only in this our age, although in indifferent iudgement there were neuer any more ſhamefull, or that deſerued the reuengement of greater offence, but alſo in that age, in whiche wickedneſſe was as geaſon, as vertue is nowe, and in whiche it was punyſhed more extreamely then at anye tyme before or ſince. Yea, the Veſtale Virgyns them ſelues, vnto whoſe moſt pure chaſtitie, the Tribunitian and Cenforian aucthoritie refuſed not to geue place, whom alſo we fynde to haue been taken vppe into the Charrettes of them that rode in triumph, leaſt that theyr triumphe ſhoulde haply be hyndered by any, & to be ſhort, who we reade to haue ſauod from punyſhment
ſuche offenders as they mette goyng vnto execution, and to haue reuoked the force of the lawes, and ſentence of death, onely in reuerence and regarde of theyr Virginitie: in whom on the other ſyde, not onely a fylthie deede, but alſo lyght ieſture, apparrell, or ſpeech, was not ſuffered, without ſharpe punyſhment and infamie: neuertheleſſe ſome of them, vnmindfull both of theyr honour and honeſtie, and of the terrour enſuyng thereof, and of the moſt horrible crime of adulterie, or rather inceſt, haue been buried quicke in the earth, as it appeareth in hiſtories. Goe thy wayes nowe, and beyng ouerwhelmed with ſo manie, and ſo notable, and ſo holie examples, in ſo great a ruine and ouerthrowe of honeſtie, to the great reproche of ſo many noble perſonages, bewayle thou the crazed fidelitie of a meane and inferiour bed.
Sorowe.
My wyfe is an adultereſſe.
Reaſon.
The ſame hath been an occaſion vnto ſome men of changyng theyr lyfe to the better, who beyng diſcharged of the fetters of matrimonie, and caſtyng of that heauie burden, haue clymbed vp to an hygher degree. And what ſhall let thee, to make this thy wyues fylthineſſe, the fyrſt ſteppe vnto thyne aduauncement to a lyfe of more libertie? Some tyme a burden, and many tymes a companion haue ſtayed the feete that woulde haue gone apace. If thou goe alone and without carriage, thou ſhalt goe the faſter whyther ſoeuer thou pretendeſt to goe.
Sorowe.
I am defamed through my wyues diſhoneſtie.
Reaſon.
By another mans offence a man may ſuſteyne loſſe and ſorowe, but not infamie: as of another mans vertue, he may conceyue ioy, but can win no glorie: it is thyne owne vertue or vice only, that can make thee glorious or infamous.
Sorowe.
I am touched with my wyues infamie
Reaſon.
Eyther hold thy peace, or flee from it, or reuenge it. The middle of theſe dyd that holy man followe, who won a ſurname by his ſimplicitie. And truely touching the firſt of theſe, it is too gentle, and the thyrd, too hard: as for the middle, it ſeemeth more commendable, and agreeable with the nature of a man, ſpecially ſuche men whoſe callyng is of the middle degree. For it were in vayne to goe about to make a law ouer the proude mightie ſort: wyll, luſt, anger, pangues, theſe are the lawes of mightie inſolencie. They are of opinion, that euery
wounde ſhoulde be cut away with any inſtrument: but in deede there be many that neede no inſtrument of inc ſion, but may be cured onely by playſters, and fomentations.
Sorowe.
My wyfe is diſhoneſt.
Reaſon.
If thou canſt be content to ſuffer, perhappes continuance of tyme, and trouble, and toylyng, and chyldren, and pouertie, will reclayme her: yea, very ſhame hath ben a profitable bridle vnto many.
Sorowe.
My wife is gone away with infamie.
Reaſon.
Pray that ſhe returne no more, for to wyſhe that ſhe were not gone, is nowe too late.
Sorowe.
My wyfe is gone away after her adulterer.
Reaſon.
Haddeſt thou rather that ſhe had brought hym into thy chamber? This ſhame and regard of eſtimation hath mooued the vnchaſt woman at leaſt wiſe to leade her filthie lyfe far of from thee, ſhe hath auoyded thy ſight, and was aſhamed to abyde in thy preſence: and therefore thou haſt to accuſe her diſhoneſtie, and not her flyght.
Sorowe.
My filthie wyfe is gone.
Reaſon.
If thou be ſorie for that, thou art woorthie that ſhe had carried with thee, and that ſhe ſoone returned vnto thee.
Of a barren VVyfe. The .xxij. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Haue a barren Wyfe.
Reaſon.
Barrenneſſe is one remedie of the inconueniences of marriage, for it maketh women obedient and humble. She that bringeth many children, thinketh her ſelfe no longer to be a wife, but a Ladie: but ſhe that is barren, weepeth, and holdeth her peace. Dooeſt thou not remember Helcana?
Sorowe.
I haue hapned vpon a barren wyfe.
Reaſon.
Thou complaynedſt erewhyle of thy wyues incontinencie, and now thou findeſt fault with her barrenneſſe: But yf thy fyrſt complaint were iuſt, then is this thy ſeconde vniuſt. It is expedient for an incontinent man to haue a barren wyfe, for then ſhall he not keepe an other mans chyldren, whiche is a more odious and greeuous thing, then any the wyues iniurie or filthineſſe whatſoeuer: yf it be a woful caſe to haue an adulterous wyfe, it is more miſerable to haue a fruiteful wyfe.
Sorowe.
My wyfe is barren.
Reaſon.
See that thou doo not that whiche many
a one dooeth, obiect thyne owne fault to another. Many women beyng married vnto ſome one man, haue ſeemed barren, whiche when they haue been married vnto other men haue had chyldren.
Sorowe.
My wyfe is barren.
Reaſon.
How knoweſt thou what manner of ſonne ſhe would beare thee, yf ſhe were fruiteful? The byrthes of ſome women haue made their fruitefulneſſe hatefull, and therefore to haue been wyſhed that they had been barren. The Empire of Rome had not ſuffered and abydden thoſe cruell monſters of men, Caius, Caligula, Nero, Commodus, Baſſianus, yf that Germanicus, of Domitius, yf Marcus Antonius. yf Septimus Seuerus, had had no wyues at all, or els yf they had been barren.
Of an vnchaſt Daughter. The xxiij. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
MY Daughter is too nice.
Reaſon.
It is reported, howe that Auguſtus the Emperour was wont to ſay, that he had two delicate and nice Daughters, whom both notwithſtanding he muſt ſuffer, to wit, the Common wealth, and his daughter Iulia. But as for his daughter Iulia, he ſayde that he knewe that ſhe was of a pleaſant diſpoſition and merrie, euen vnto the reſemblance of incontinencie, but was aſſured that ſhe was free from any diſhoneſt deede dooyng. Howbeit the moſt wyſe prince, in ſo thynkyng, was deceyued in them both: For the Common wealth had then begun to degenerate from the auntient vertue and integritie thereof, and his daughter waſt not onely nice, and wanton, but alſo ſhamefully reported of, and her good name blemyſhed with reproches, whiche the father onely neuer hearde of, and at length, though too late fyrſt, brake foorth into the lyght: notwithſtandyng accordyng to this ſignification, thy Daughter may be nice, but honeſt enough. Which thing though I graunt thee, neuertheleſſe it can not be denied, but that niceneſſe & delicateneſſe are the redie way vnto wooriſhneſſe.
Sorowe.
My Daughter beginneth to waxe wanton.
Reaſon.
Looke vnto her at the begynnyng:
hard thynges require an inſtument of iron to take them away, but tender thynges are plucked away with a mans fyngers. Who ſo is deſirous to haue an habite, or the perfect vſe of any thyng, let hym begynne in his youth to practice it, whether it be in hym ſelfe, or another. Young thynges are eaſily faſhioned, and turned whiche way ſoeuer a man lyſt.
Sorowe.
My Daughter waxeth laſciuious.
Reaſon.
Withdrawe her daintie fare, take from her, her ſoft & braue apparrel, her Ringes, and Bracelets, and other Iewelles, and what euer ſhe hath els, wherein eyther ſhe taketh delyght her ſelfe, or indeuoureth to pleaſe other. Lay vpon her other care of houſholde, ſtint her at ſewing and ſpynning, or whatſoeuer woorke thou canſt deuiſe to make harde her ſoft and delicate handes. Reſtrayne her from common ſhewes, and reſort of people. Keepe her within doores vppon Holidayes, leaue her no tyme to thynke vppon vayne and vnprofitable matters. Buſineſſe, and labour, and homely apparrell, and hard fare, and ſolitarineſſe, and continuall bendyng of the minde vppon one thyng, moreouer a beloued and feared witneſſe, often warnynges, gentle threatninges, and if neede require, ſome tyme ſharper: theſe be the doores and barres of chaſtitie agaynſt diſhoneſtie, and that keepe of inuadyng and aſſaultyng paſſions from entryng into an idle mynde, and abandon them yf they be entred.
Sorowe.
My Daughter is diſhoneſt.
Reaſon.
This is the counſayle of Eccleſiaſticus, Take diligent heede ouer thy diſhoneſt Daughter, leſt that ſhe chaunce to bryng thee to ſhame.
Although there be nothyng that thou couldeſt ſuffer more greeuous then this, neuertheleſſe yf thou leaue no part of thy fatherly duetie vndoone, thou haſt wherewithal to comfort thy ſorowe: For the griefe may be thyne, but neyther the ſhame, nor the fault, foraſmuche as it is a very harde matter to brydle the mynde that is prone vnto luſt and viciouſneſſe, and a thyng that is impoſſible for man to doo, vnleſſe that GOD ſet to his helpyng hande. For the force of the affection is ſo great and diſordinate, that many tymes the father in vayne, in vaine the brethren, in vayne the huſbande alſo ſtryueth agaynſt it. And no marueyle, ſince it is written, I am not able to lyue continent, vnleſse GOD geue me the grace. Howbeit, this is no excuſe for diſhoneſtie,
for GOD graunteth it vnto as many as require it at his handes with a pure fayth, and whiche endeuour of them ſelues what in them lyeth, acknowledgyng whoſe gyft it is, and eſteemyng truely of it, and of the auctour thereof.
Sorowe.
My Daughter is an Harlot.
Reaſon.
If ſhee be married, then is thy ſonne in lawe partaker of thy ſorowe: thou haſt alſo Auguſtus the Emperour, both to be vnto thee a companion of the iniurie, and an example of the reuengement.
Of shame commyng from another. The .xxiiij. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Am ſlaundred for an other mans offence.
Reaſon.
I tolde thee erewhyle, and true it is, that the griefe of another mans offence may touche thee, but ſo can not the infamie. I tell thee true. And yf it be a falſe infamie, though for the tyme it be greeuous, yet is it not durable, and to make infamie or glorie durable; thou muſt looke into thyne owne fielde, and prune the vine of thy minde with thine owne ſickle.
Sorowe.
I am ſorie for another mans fault.
Reaſon.
Truely I beleeue thee. But reioyce then in thyne owne innocencie, vnleſſe thou greeue more at other mens matters, then at thyne owne, for the inheritaunce of fame deſcendeth not as doth the inheritaunce of a patrimonie, for yf it were ſo, it myght ſometyme be refuſed. No man is conſtrayned to take vppon hym a burdenſome and infamous inheritaunce: for as I ſayde before, it deſcendeth not by ſucceſſion of name: there is no degree of kyndred expected in this matter. whether thou deſyre to haue a glorious or obſcure name, it muſt come from thy ſelfe, and not from another, and therein thine owne deſartes are neceſſarie. There is a tyme when as another mans deedes can neyther defame thee, nor commende thee. To what purpoſe dooeſt thou expect the Carrier, or the Poſt, or the Teſtatour? or repoſe any truſt in thy moſt louing and noble auncetours, thy Father or Grandfather? or to what ende art thou afearde of any of them, to become infamous or obſcure, by any of their meanes? Truely by neyther ſort of them commeth eyther eſtimation,
or diſcredite. Fame is not bequeathed, but won.
Sorow.
I am ouerburdened with the infamie of my friendes.
Reaſon.
It is rather thine owne fanſie that oppreſſeth thee, whiche is one of the cheefeſt rootes of humane miſerie. Caſt of that, and thou ſhalt lyghten thy ſelfe of a falſe burden.
Sorowe.
I am diffamed with the offences of my friendes.
Reaſon.
I denie that it is poſſible to be ſo, howbeit I confeſſe, that it were better for thee to be diffamed for other mens crimes, then that other men ſhould be for thyne: For more heauie is the weyght of offence, then infamie, for where offence is, there is perfect miſerie. And contrariwyſe, falſe infamie hath no part of perfect and true miſerie, as hath falſe glorie, although the one vexe the mindes of the common multitude, and the other delyght them.
Sorowe.
I can not chooſe, but be greeued & touched with the infamie of my friendes.
Reaſon.
To be touched is charitable, to be diſcomforted is wretched. And therefore, whyle there are ſome remnantes of hope remayning, be careful for the good name of thy friendes, and haue reſpect vnto the vnquietneſſe and trouble whiche thou haſt conceyued. If all hope be gone, my counſayle is, layng them aſide, to put of all greefe and vexation: for to endeuour in vayne, and ſeeke for matter of ſorowfulneſſe, is a lyke madneſſe.
Sorowe.
I am blamed for my ſeruauntes crimes.
Reaſon.
Thou art woorthily puniſhed for thy patience, and too muche ſufferyng, when thou myghteſt haue auoyded that ignominie, by punyſhyng and correctyng the aucthours of the miſchiefe.
Sorowe.
But I am moleſted with reproches, whiche are due vnto them that can not eaſily be corrected, nor put away.
Reaſon.
Who be they, I pray thee? For, as touchyng the correction of the parentes, it is in no wyſe permitted to the chyldren. And therefore by that meanes there can growe no infamie, but rather in vpryght iudgement, there wyll ſpryng vp vnto thee as it were a certayne bryghtneſſe out of the darke: for ſince vnto vertue difficultie is proper, it is muche more harder to keepe the ryght way vnder conduct of obſcure, then famous leaders, and Captaynes. But yf it be thy wyues, what in that caſe thou oughteſt to doo, and whoſe remedie to remember, I haue alredie declared. Yf of thy
chyldren, note what men what manner of chyldren they haue had, as Fabius Maximus, and Scipio Africanè, and Pompeius the great: for I followe not nowe the order of Empire and ryches, but of age and glorie: and what manner one Veſpaſians laſt was, or Aurelius Antoninus onely, or Seuerus eldeſt ſonne? What manner ones alſo, though in another kynde, had Hortenſius and Cicero? And laſtly what a daughter Auguſtus the Emperour had, or what a ſonne Germanicus? and thou ſhalt ſee great darkeneſſe to haue ſpring out of great lyght, and thou ſhalt alſo perceyue, how this euyll fortune in chyldren, I knowe not by what chaunce, doth moſt accuſtomably creepe into the moſt honourable families, and that euery one hath that way one griefe and imperfection or another, eyther vnknowen to the next neyghbours, or not regarded. There are not lackyng alſo examples of Brethren, and Nephues. Onely I haue ſet downe thoſe, whoſe ſhame may ſeeme moſt greeuous vnto a man, and to touche hym neereſt. The order and reaſon is like in all, that the blemiſhes of another perſon what ſo euer he be, can not hang or be faſtened vppon any man agaynſt his wyll.
Of Infamie. The .xxv. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Am oppreſſed with myne owne Infamie.
Reaſon.
I was affearde leaſt thou were oppreſſed with thyne owne conſcience.
Sorowe.
I am greeued with ſhamefull infamie.
Reaſon.
If it be deſerued, lament not the infamie, but the cauſe of the infamie: but yf it be vndeſerued, contemne the errours of men with a valient courage, and comfort thy ſelfe with the teſtimonie of a good conſcience.
Sorowe.
I ſuſteine great infamie.
Reaſon.
Thou groneſt vnder a burden of wind: thus naturally the weakeneſſe of the bearer, maketh a light burden heauie.
Sorowe.
There is great infamie ryſen vpon my name.
Reaſon.
It ſkilleth much vpon what rootes it is ſprung vp: yf vppon trueth, it wyll continue, and encreaſe: otherwyſe
it wyll wither and fall away quickly.
Sorowe.
There is great ſlaunder growen vnto me.
Reaſon.
Thou ſayeſt wel, yf thou ſpeake of the blowyng of it abrode: For fame is but a blaſt, yea that fame is but the breath of an impure mouth oftentymes, whiche dooeth ſo muche ſhake you, and make you afeard. But vehement infamie in deede, hath been vnto many the beginnyng of great fame and renowme: For the common multitude hath been often aſhamed of their owne dooinges, and that after their olde cuſtome and manner they myght heape one errour vppon another, and exclude all meane and meaſure from euery thyng, haue at length obſcured a ſmall infamie, with immoderate prayſes.
Sorowe.
On euery ſyde I am ſorely ſlaundered.
Reaſon.
Whyle the windes ruffle rounde about thee, returne thou into the Hauen, and from the ſtormes of thyne eares, withdrawe thy ſelfe into the cloſet of thyne hart, whiche yf it retayne it owne tranquilitie, then haſt thou a place where to reſt thy ſelfe from the weeriſomneſſe of chyding and brawlyng, and as the common ſaying is, Reioyce in thyne owne boſome.
Sorow.
My fame is blemiſhed, but my conſcience is cleere.
Reaſon.
Haddeſt thou rather then, that thy fame and eſtimation were renowmed, and thy conſcience foule and blemiſhed? And is that ſaying of Horace altogether true, Falſe honour delyghteth, and lyuyng infamie maketh men afearde? O moſt vayne vanitie. True thynges in deede may delyght men, or make them afearde, but to dread ſhadowes is not the part of a man.
Sorowe.
The burden of infamie is heauie.
Reaſon.
If it be geathered by wickedneſſe, I confeſſe it is heauie, yf it come by chaunce, it is but lyght, but yf it happen through any honeſt endeuour, it is glorious: For that infamie whiche is purchaſed by honeſt meanes, is a prayſe. Let fooles inſult ouer thee, but reioyce thou in ſo noble a gayne, to wit, in vertue, whiche is a moſt rare and dayntie merchandize, although thou haſt wonne it, paying therefore a great price, whiche is the loſſe of thy good name. He is the true louer and purſuer of vertue, who in the followyng after her, thinketh vpon nothyng but her onely. And although contempt in other thynges be famous, yet moſt famous is the neglectyng and deſpiſing of fame in the ſtudie of vertue, although I confeſſe that
vnto valiant and noble mynds, fame is not only dearer then gold, but muche more precious then lyfe it ſelfe. Who ſo therfore neclecteth fame for the loue of vertue, contemneth this, it may be thought that he wyll contemne any thyng, whiche I would haue thee well knowe to be an excellent, but a very rare thyng, foraſmuche as the moſt parte of them that woulde ſeeme to folowe the ſtudie of vertue, when they haue once taken holde of the fame of it, doo immediatly waxe ſo colde in the action thereof, that it may eaſily be perceyued, that they ſought nothyng els but only that whereof they haue taken holdfaſt.
Sorowe.
Many doo greeuouſly diffame me.
Reaſon.
Moe in olde tyme ſpake euyll of Eabius, and many more greeuouſly of Scipio Africane, which turned to theyr great glory. That this fortune is common vnto thee with ſuch worthy perſonagies, leaue of to cōplaine, for it hath hapned vnto very fewe, neuer in any reſpect to be touched with infamie. A mans good name is a very dayntie thyng, and is blemyſhed many tymes vpon ſmal occaſions. And to be ſhort, as there is nothyng more cleare then good fame, ſo is there nothyng more apt to be obſcured, or redy to receyue externall blemiſhes.
Sorowe.
I am ſtayned with greeuous infamie.
Reaſon.
This plague is moſt hurtfull vnto dread and reuerend names, it hath not ſpared alſo the moſt holy & vertuous perſons, whoſe Lorde and maiſter was voyde of all maner of crime, notwithſtandyng in that he was ſlaundered and defamed by the wicked, it is an argument that men muſte not hope to eſcape from that, whiche hapned vnto God hym ſelfe.
Sorowe.
I am moleſted with ſharpe infamie.
Reaſon.
For vertue not to be aſſaulted with enuie, it is almoſt impoſſible: it is ſufficient yf ſhe be not therewith ouerthrowne: and yf glory be beaten agaynſt ſlaunder, if ſo be it be pure and ſounde glory, it waxeth the brighter for the rubbyng.
Sorowe.
I am vexed with bitter ſlaunder.
Reaſon.
Common report beyng driuen with the whirlewyndes of blinde ignorance, ſtriketh the very tops of the higheſt things, but if it ſhaketh not them, or if it ſhake them, it ouerthroweth them not. Take this for a certayne token of excellencie in thee, in that thou art fallen among the tongues of the common people, as yf it were among ſo many dangerous rockes. For baſe
names, and ſuche as in a maner creepe lowe by the grounde, doo neyther receyue the lyght of notable prayſe, nor yet the darkenes of great infamie: moſte commonly that whiche is contemned, is at quiet.
Sorowe.
The common people geue me an yl report.
Reaſon.
It is well that thou art ſo ryfe in theyr tongues, and not in theyr pennes: the ſpeeche of the common people is ſharpe, but not permanent: thyngs that ryſe vpon ſmal or falſe cauſes, muſte needes be ſhort, and when men haue barked yenough, they wyll then holde theyr peace: they that begyn ſo fiercely, are commonly the ſooner weeryed.
Sorowe.
I am troubled with the tongues of the common people.
Reaſon.
Howe yf thou haddeſt hapned to lyght vpon the ſtyle of ſome notable Oratour, or Poet? as many haue doone in tymes paſt, whom we ſee to be left infamous vnto poſteritie, through the eloquence of theyr enimie, as the noble ſygh of kyng Alexander, who enuied at Achilles that he hapned vpon ſo noble a Poet as Homer was: ſo feareful was this moſt excellent prince to incur the diſpleaſure of learned & eloquent men, leaſt haply they ſhould wryte any thyng ſharply agaynſt hym: although a man ought not to be quayled at the ſpeeches of ſlaunderous writers, but rather theyr ſlaunder is to be refelled, eyther with lyke ſharpeneſſe of ſtyle, as dyd Cicero agaynſt Saluſt, and Demoſthenes agaynſt Aeſchines, and Cato agaynſt innumerable, or els to be reſiſted with notable boldneſſe and courage of mynde, more then euer Actor expreſſed vppon the Theater: and the lyke muſte be ſayde vnto that which Vatinius aunſweared vnto Caluus, when he hadde fyniſhed his pleadyng, I am not condemned, becauſe he is eloquent. Howbeit nowe there is no danger, ſynce that the common people for the more part doo continually prattle of ſome one matter or other, but long it is not ere they leaue of, beyng thereunto mooued eyther by wyll, or conſtraint. For a day wyll come, that ſhall put to ſilence theſe charmyng and chyrpyng Graſhoppers, and make them gladde to lyue at reſt.
Sorowe.
I am diffamed among the common people.
Reaſon.
Endeuour that thou mayeſt retayne a good name with thy ſelfe, and a
perpetuall and true good fame among the better ſort: As for this whereof thou nowe complayneſt, it wyll vanyſhe away. You vayne and fearefull generation of mortall men, what dooth this ſhort and blynde murmure of flatterers and ſlaunderers touche you? There ſhall come ſome hereafter, that wyll iudge more freely and indifferently: And who are thoſe iudges, perhappes thou wylt aſke me? Yee can not knowe them, but they ſhall knowe you: I meane them that ſhalbe borne after you, who ſhall neyther be mooued with hate or malice towardes thee, nor be borne away with loue, or hope, or feare of thee: If you woulde haue vpryght iudgement geuen vpon your dooynges, then tary and expect thoſe iudges: The tyme of theyr ſtaying wyll not be long: they come a pace, and loe, they wyll be heere anone.
Sorowe.
I haue incurred infamie by my notable deedes and vertue.
Reaſon.
There is a tyme wherein the loue of loſſe is nooryſhed, and encreaſeth by trauayle, and, whiche is a ſtrange matter to be ſpoken, geathereth deepe rootes in a bytter and miſcheuous ſoyle: wherby it commeth to paſſe, that a man ſhall ſee thoſe to be moſte deſyrous of factions, who haue ſome tyme been moſt greeuouſly punyſhed for the lyke: and this is a matter to to common and vſuall in your cities. And therefore there is none that more loueth iuſtice or trueth, then he that hath offered hym ſelfe vnto tormentes and death for the ſame. Doo thou therefore loue vertue alſo, and embrace it more and more, for whiche thou haſt loſt thy good name, then whiche there is nothyng more beautiful and precious, for the whiche alſo thou ſuſteyneſt infamie, which is no ſmall punyſhment, and contemnyng and refuſyng all other thynges, ſee thou embrace vertue only, whiche no man is euer able to take from thee, and ſaye thus vnto her, All theſe thynges, O Queene, doo I wyllyngly ſuſteyne for thy ſake, thou ſhalt reſtore me agayne into my perfect eſtate, or truely at leaſtwyſe thou only ſhalt be vnto me in ſteede of al thinges, thou only nooriſhe me in thy ſacred boſome, & ſo ſhal I not only not feele the loſſe of my good name, but not ſo much as the diſcommodities of my life.
Sorow.
I am
commonly euyl ſpoken of, yea in euery corner.
Reaſon.
Take it well a worth: The common multitude wyll make thee knowen, thy vertue wyll make thee famous, and thy conſcience careleſſe.
Of ſhame procured by meanes of vnwoorthy commendation. The xxvi. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Am reprooued for prayſing an vnworthie perſon.
Reaſon.
That whiche is euyl, many times ſpringeth from a good roter and good and innocent perſons, iudge others to be ſuche as they are them ſelues. Hereof then it proceedeth, that they are more redy to prayſe other, then reaſon requireth: and although I confeſſe it be euyll to prayſe an vnwoorthie perſon, yet to diſprayſe a vertuous man, is farre more woorſe.
Sorowe.
I haue prayſed one that was vnwoorthie.
Reaſon.
If thou diddeſt it wittyngly, thou art blame woorthie: but yf through ignorance, thou art to be excuſed. It is not ſo euyl to be deceyued, as to deceyue: for, to be deceyued, belongeth to a man, but to deceyue, is the peculiar fault of the deceiuer.
Sorowe.
Another mans prayſe redoundeth to myne infamie.
Reaſon.
Nay rather it was eyther thy fault, or thyne ignorance: For, as there commeth no prayſe, ſo commeth there alſo no infamie from another.
Sorowe.
I am very ſory that I commended an vnwoorthie perſon.
Reaſon.
Take heede alſo that thou be not ſory for this often: Be not ouerhaſtie to ſet thy ſelfe foorth to prayſe or diſprayſe raſhly, for men are commonly greedie vnto both: and to ſpeake properly, this is a diſeaſe and a certayne ticklyng of the tongue, whiche is alwayes clackyng, and canne neuer ſtande ſtyll: the brydelyng and refraynyng wherof, is reckoned amongeſt the woorkes of ſynguler perfection, accordyng to the ſaying of the Scripture, Whoſo offendeth not in woorde, be is a perfect man: In whiche thyng yee are to to often deceyued. And alas therewhyle,
that ſaying of the ſame Apoſtle is to much verified, That no man tan tame the tongue, beyng an vnquiet miſchiefe. Wherefore, it thruſteth you foorth headlong dayly vnto lying, whom afterwarde your owne ſway pricketh forwarde, and next after that, a falſe opinion of the thynges draweth you farther. For there be ſome who with theyr very looke or ſpeache doo couer the vitiouſneſſe of theyr maners: whiche thyng we haue hearde of in Alcibiades, and haue ſeene in many. There be ſome alſo that cloke theyr vertues with a contrary veyle, whether it be by the nature of theyr countenance, or the proper auſteritie of their vſual ſpeache, or by ſome art or ſtudie purpoſely employed, contrary vnto that whiche the multitude commonly deſyreth. For as there are manye that haue faygned them ſelues good, ſo haue there lykewyſe been ſome founde who haue counterfeited them ſelues to be euyll, whereby they might eyther auoyde the peſtilent ayre of humane fauour, or eſcape the hatefull burden of temporall goodes: whiche thyng we reade of S. Ambroſe. Hereunto are adioyned loue and hatred, anger and enuie, hope and feare, with ſundry other ſecrete affections of the mynd, & among theſe many that are altogeather vnknowen vnto vs: which are alwayes enimies vnto true iudgement. Adde herevnto moreouer, that the prayſe of the lyuyng, by the expreſſe woorde of God, through the inconſtancie of this mortal lyfe, is hyndred of continuance, howe muche more then diſcommendation? Hereafter therefore, become ſlowe to prayſe, but more ſlowe to diſprayſe: for ſynce eache of them, as I haue ſaid, is an euyll errour, yet is the laſt woorſt.
Sorow.
I haue erred in commendyng one vnwoorthie.
Reaſon.
By erryng men doo learne, and often tymes one errour withſtandeth many errours, and whyle men are aſhamed to haue erred once, then doo they take heede, that the lyke errour take not holde of them. Thou haſt prayſed vnaduiſedly, refrayne thy tongue: let this commoditie at leaſtwyſe folowe this miſchiefe.
Sorowe.
I am aſhamed and repent me, that I haue prayſed an vnwoorthie perſon.
Reaſon.
Shame, and repentance, and ſorowe, are certayne ladders and degrees
vnto amendement and ſaluation. There are fewe that can attayne into the ryght way, but by wandryng through many bie wayes, and therefore we haue ſeene many who in theyr youth were ſeruantes vnto voluptuouſneſſe, in theyr olde age to become friendes vnto vertue.
Of vnfaythfull friendes. The .xxvij. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Complayne of friendes.
Reaſon.
What wyll he doo of his foes, that complayneth of his friendes.
Sorowe.
I trye my friendes to be vnfaythfull.
Reaſon.
Thou ſpeakeſt of an impoſſible matter. But to thynke that they were thy friendes that were not in deede, is not only not impoſſible, but a common matter.
Sorowe.
My friendes are vnfaythful.
Reaſon.
All the worlde is ful of ſuche complayntes: and as for friendſhyppe and infidelitie, they cannot agree. Who ſo begynneth to be vnfaythful, leaueth of to be a friende, or rather, whiche I woulde ſooner beleeue, was neuer any. And foraſmuche as all vertues are immortall, and all feignyng tranſitorie, fayth is not taken away, but feygnyng.
Sorowe.
I fynde vntruſtie friendes.
Reaſon.
Theſe that are falſly counted thy friendes, yf nowe they firſt begynne to diſcloſe theyr trayterous hartes, then mayeſt thou reioyce to behold the ende of thyne errour, but take heede in the meane whyle that the infection of the diſeaſe take not holde on thee: but whatſoeuer they be, preſerue thou the fayth of friendſhyppe, and although not in reſpect of the vndeſerued, yet for thyne owne ſake that haſt deſerued, be not infected with that plague, whiche thou ſhalt do the more willyngly, yf thou doo narrowly examine thy ſelfe howe muche thou art greeued with theyr vnfaythfulneſſe. And many tymes the hatred of vice, hath been an earneſt prouocation vnto vertue.
Sorowe.
Ʋndeſeruedly haue I purchaſed the euyll wyll of my friendes.
Reaſon.
Citizens are odious, fellowes odious, cooſyns odious, wyues and
huſbandes odious, brothers and ſiſters are odious, and fynally, the chyldren are odious vnto theyr parentes, and the parents to theyr chyldren. And to be ſhort, there is no kinrede nor degree of friendſhyp whiche cannot be infected with hatred: Only ſincere friendſhyppe is free from this miſchiefe. And betweene this and the other, this is the difference, that all the other, although they haue hatred accompanying them, doo notwithſtandyng continue, and reteyne theyr names: but yf hatred be ioyned vnto this, or yf loue departe from it, it can continue no longer vnder the name of friendſhippe, for a friende can no more be hatefull, then loue can be odious.
Sorowe.
I ſuffer falſe friendes.
Reaſon.
If there be any hope of them, ſuffer them, vntyll ſuche tyme as they become truſtie, and loue them hartily: For many with theyr luke warme loue haue vtterly quenched friendſhyppe, or by ſmall truſtyng, haue taught other diſtruſtineſſe. But if ſo be thou doo not profite, and all hope be layde a water, then vſe Catoes aduice, who in thoſe friendeſhyppes whereof a man hath no lykyng, wylleth hym by litle and litle to ryppe them, and not ſodaynely to breake them of, leaſt that a double great miſchiefe befall thereof, in that thou haſt loſt thy friendes, and purchaſed enimies: vnleſſe peraduenture ſome more vrgent cauſe, which wyll ſuffer no tarriaunce, doo not permit thee to followe this diſcrete counſel: whiche yf it happen, it is to be counted among the greateſt troubles of friendſhyp, but it muſt be borne with a valiant mynde, as all other chaunces, and place muſte be geuen vnto neceſſitie, and the tyme oveyed: but this chaunce is ſcarce knowen vnto true friendſhip.
Of vnthankeful perſons. The .xxviij. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Fynde many vnthankefull, whiche is a great vice.
Reaſon.
To diſprayſe ingratitude were a needeleſſe matter: for all mens ſpeache doo condemne it. There neede no trauayle be taken in perſwadyng that, whereof all men are perſwaded, and the opinion therof moſt fyrmely grafted in them. Some man placeth the chiefe felicitie, and ſome whole felicitie in
vertue only, and ſome in neither, but in pleaſure, the enimie of vertue. There be ſome alſo whiche holde opinion, that chaſtitie is the moſt beautifull ornament of this lyfe. Other ſome there be that contemne this in them ſelues, and in others they accounte it ridiculus, or truely very harde, and extreeme paynful: whiche S. Auguſtine, ſo excellent a man as he prooued afterwarde, perceyued in hym ſelfe, where as he ſayth, that S. Ambroſe ſyngle lyfe ſeemed paynefull vnto hym, whiche vnto ſome other hath not only ſeemed a tedious, but alſo a damnable ſtate of lyfe. Hereof commeth that example of Plato. who when he had long tyme lyued a ſingle and chaſte lyfe, at the laſt it is read howe that he ſacrificed vnto nature to make an attonement with her, whom he thought he had greeuouſly offended by lyuyng in ſuche order. It is ſtrange, that ſo learned a man ſhoulde be of that opinion: but that he was ſo, it is out of all doubt. There be ſome alſo that count fortitude to be the moſte excellent and ſoueraigne vertue: to receyue woundes with bent breaſt, to ſtayne the fielde with gore blood, and finally, to goe vnto death with a bolde courage. Some there be that aſcribe all theſe thinges vnto extreame madneſſe, and iudge nothyng better then quiet and daſtardly idleneſſe. There ſhall ſome come alſo that wyll eſteeme iuſtice to be the gouernour of humane affayres, & the mother of vertues: who ſhall beleeue that religion is the way vnto euerlaſtyng lyfe, and the ladder to climbe vp by vnto heauen. There ſhall other ſome come lykewyſe on the contrary ſyde, that ſhall count iuſtice, cowardice, and religion, madneſſe and ſuperſtition: theſe are they of whom it is written, They are able to doo euery thyng, who affirme that all thynges appertayne vnto violent men. And not only in this kynd of violent men, and rauinous perſons, but alſo among the multitude of learned men, home great aduerſaries iuſtice hath, it may eaſily be perceyued in the bookes of Cicero, whiche he wrote of a common wealth. There be ſome that with great and deſerued commendations doo extoll the keepyng of fayth and promiſes. There be otherſome alſo that ſay it is no deceipt to breake fayth, but that it proceedeth from more knowledge, and a better wit. Whiche although it be the common opinion and ſaying of the moſt part of men at this preſent,
in Lactantius it is namely aſcribed vnto Mercurie, ſaying, as he reporteth it, That it is no fraude to deceyue, but craftineſſe: this is that woorthy god of wyſe dome and eloquence. To be ſhorte, there is no vertue ſo commendable, but it ſhal finde ſome diſpraiſers: as for thankefulneſſe, there is no nation ſo barbarus, no manners ſo ſauage, which do not commend it, and no man euer that dyd not diſprayſe vnthankefulneſſe. For admit a man be a theefe, a murderer, a traytour, an vnthankeful perſon, he ſhal not dare excuſe his faulte, but denye it: whiche although it be ſo, neuertheleſſe there are innumerable vnthankeful perſons. Neyther is there almoſt any one vice by ſo many condemned in woorde, whiche lykewiſe is by ſo many embraced in deede. What ſhal I conclude? Truely that it ought to be condemned, not onely in woord, but chiefely in mynde and iudgement, and of euery good maneſchewed in hym ſelfe, and borne withal in another, as other thynges whereof mankynde hath plentie, wherewith the wicked do abounde, and the good are moleſted Suffer therefore, & choſe rather to tollerate an vnthankeful perſon, then thy ſelfe to be one.
Sorowe.
I fynde many vnthankeful.
Reaſon.
Take heede there be no fault in thy ſelfe. For there are many, that whyle they wyl ſeeme to be liberal, they become boaſters, and fault fynders, whiche are an hateful kinde of men, whoſe good turnes doo a man more hurt then helpe him. And that is nothyng els then to procure hatred by expence, which is a mad kynde of merchandize.
Sorow.
Hauing deſerued wel, I ſuffer many that are vnmindful and vnthankeful.
Reaſon.
Doeſt thou greeue thereat? and wouldeſt thou change conditiō with them? Do not ſo I pray thee, where ſo euer the fault lye, let vertue be on thy ſide.
Sorowe.
I haue many that are vnthankeful.
Reaſon.
What wouldeſt thou haue me ſay to thee, that thou ſhouldeſt leaue to do wel, and hynder thy ſelfe for another mans faulte? Nay rather, doo thou contrarie, and where as thou haſt many, prouide that thou mayſt haue mo, whiche thou ſhalt haue yf thou doo good vnto many. For there are alwayes many vnthankeful, but moſt at this day, and I feare me leaſt that ſhortly it wi
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be a monſter to finde a thankeful perſon: In ſuche forte dayly all thinges impaire, and goe backe warde: Suche is the importunacie of thoſe that require
them, and the forgetfulneſſe and pride of thoſe that owe them, and yet notwithſtandyng, men muſt not therefore leaue of, neyther muſt we ſcratch out our eyes becauſe the blynd can not ſee, but rather the blindneſſe of other ought to make vs loue our eyes the more deerely.
Sorowe.
I haue founde many vnthankfull.
Reaſon.
Thinke with thy ſelfe, whether thou haſt been ſo vnto many. One vnthankefulneſſe puniſheth another, as alſo in other thinges, for oftentimes one ſinne is puniſhment to another.
Sorowe.
I haue done good vnto many vnthankefull perſons.
Reaſon.
It is better to doo good vnto many vnwoorthy, then to be wanting vnto one woorthy perſon. Goe forward therefore, and lay not aſide thy good maners in reſpect of hatred towarde the wicked, neyther ſurceaſſe to doo good vnto others, for that of ſome it is not accordyngly accepted: Perhappes hereafter they ſhal know thee better, but yf they do not, it ſhall ſuffice thee to knowe God and thy ſelfe. It is no true vertue whiche is not ſufficed with the rewarde of it owne conſcience.
Sorowe.
I haue had euill lucke by doyng good to many.
Reaſon.
Take heede that one mans fault hurte not anothers, and which is more greeuous, annoy not thee. Trie others, and perhappes it wyll fal out more fortunatly. Moreouer, ſome that haue been a long time vnthankefull, at length when ſhame hath touched their mindes, haue become moſt thankeful, and the loſt hope of them hath been returned with great vauntage. And further, that whiche a debtour hath many tymes denied being required, one that hath been no debtour, hath willyngly offered: there was neuer any good deede loſt. Who ſo doth wet, let hym thinke moſt of his owne eſtate. Only vertue doth good vnto many, but the greateſt and chiefeſt parte of vertue, returneth vpon the woorker therof. And therefore, although al men be euyll and vnthankefull, a good man muſt not ceaſſe to do well: for thoſe thynges whiche he diſpearſeth among many, he heapeth vpon many, and is at leaſtwyſe beneficiall to hym ſelfe, for not being an vnthankeful perſon.
Sorowe.
I haue caſt away benefites vpon vnthankeful perſons.
Reaſon.
A couetous perſon wyl not ſticke to giue ſomtime frankely: but liberalitie is the greater, the leſſe there is hope of recompence.
Of euil ſeruauntes. The .xxix. Dialogue,
SOROWE.
I Am beſieged with euyl ſeruauntes.
Reaſon.
Nowe ſayeſt thou truely that thou art beſieged, for before tyme thou ſeemedſt to thy ſelfe to be furniſhed and adorned with them, but in very deede thou waſt beſieged, not onely with an army of thy familiars, but alſo of thine enimies.
Sorowe.
I am oppreſſed with vnruly ſeruauntes.
Reaſon.
Thine owne armie fighteth agaynſt thee, whiche is an vnpleaſant matter.
Sorow.
I am beſieged with proud ſeruauntes.
Reaſon.
And yet thou art conſtreyned to feede them that beſiege thee, whiche is an extreame neceſſitie.
Sorowe.
I am beſieged with very euill, rauening, theeuiſhe, lying, and vnchaſte ſeruauntes.
Reaſon.
What needeſt thou to roule in ſo many termes of thy ſeruaunts? Cal them ſeruauntes, and then thou haſt ſayde al.
Sorowe.
I am beſieged with ſeruauntes, and what counſel doeſt thou geue me?
Reaſon.
What counſel ſhoulde I geue thee, or what els ſhoulde I ſay vnto thee, but the ſaying of Terence? Thoſe thinges whiche haue neyther reaſon nor meaſure in them, thou canſt neuer gouerne by aduice.
Notwithſtandyng, Senecas counſell is wel knowen concernyng this matter: he wylleth a man to lyue familiarly, gently, & courteouſly with his ſeruauntes. But with what ſeruauntes? To wyt, with thoſe, with whom to lyue in familiaritie wyl not engender contempt. He addeth moreouer, that correction, not of woordes, but of ſtripes, muſt be miniſtred, namely vnto ſuche as are deafe and ſluggiſhe, and with a ſlowe pace contemne their maiſters gentleneſſe. Moreouer, that a maiſter ought to admit them vnto conference and company with hym in talke, in counſel, in feedyng. But whom I pray you? Forſooth the ſaucie, foolyſhe, drunken, vntruſtie, inſolent, which neyther can wel vtter their minde, neyther can geue any good aduice, and which behaue them ſelues ſlouenly at meate, ſuch as are careleſſe of their maiſters health & lyfe, liuing and good name, but are very diligent purſuers of their owne gluttonie & ſenſualitie. But he peraduenture gaue this counſel for this cauſe, for yt he ſuppoſeth that to be true in a ſeruant, which before he had ſpoken of a frend,
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If thou truſt hym, thou ſhalt make hym faythful. I ſuppoſe that thou doeſt not thynke, that frendes are made of the beſt ſort of men, and ſeruantes of the woorſt. Truely, if thou ſhouldeſt thinke a thouſand yeere that a woolfe were a lambe, yet ſhould he be a lambe neuer the ſooner.
Sorowe.
I am beſieged with ſeruauntes, what counſel wouldeſt thou geue me?
Reaſon.
Neuer ſeeke for that elſe where, whiche is in thy ſelfe. Thou ſhalt not be beſieged longer then thou wylt thy ſelfe: neyther ſhould they now beſiege thee, but only as it happeneth in euil gouerned and vnquiet cities, that one part of the minde, like a faction of ſeditious citizens, fauoureth the beſiegers. Wouldeſt thou be deliuered of this euyl? Purge the ſtate of thine owne minde. Chaſtice thy ſeruauntes thou canſt not, neyther by this aduice of Seneca, neyther by any others. If thou liſt to amende thy ſelfe, no man can forbyd thee. Abandon pompe, caſt of pryde, and ſo ſhalt thou eyther driue away the hateful troupe of thy ſeruauntes, or els abate it.
Sorowe.
I am beſieged with many ſeruauntes.
Reaſon.
It is well, yf noyſe and vaine glory be onely expected: but yf ſeruiceableneſſe or pleaſure, there is nothyng woorſe. Seruauntes although they be good, whiche a man may accompt a ſtrange thyng, yet there be fewe of them that do good ſeruice: They fal togeather by the eates amongeſt them ſelues, they murmure, they contend, one of them lookyng to an others hands: & in the meane while, ſome one of them ſittyng idelly, fouldeth and rubbeth his handes, thynking it a great woorſhyp to beare the countenance of a maiſter, and promiſyng al thynges, thinketh nothyng better then to be idle. Of ſuche we ſpeake nowe, who through a falſe profeſſion purſuyng the delite of their idle bellie, do embaſe themſelues vnto humble ſeruice, not onely voluntarily, but alſo importunatly. They are an innumerable company, but of a vile condition, who, being ſo many artes and occupations as there are, haue betaken them ſelues to the baſeſt: namely ſuche, whom not their owne wyl, but the force of another, and their owne chaunce and ſeruice hath drawen foorth. And contrarywyſe, as of the other ſort the number is ſmaller, ſo is there vertue more plētiful, & theyr truſtineſſe more approued. For it is one thyng to ſerue willingly, another thing to be cōſtrained. Theſe therfore being mindful of their calling, to ye
intent they may beare them ſelues indifferently in al eſtates, neither loſe their vertue togeather with their lybertie, that whiche they do vnwyllyngly, ſometyme they do it faythfully, whiche they are neuer able to do, whom ſleepe, their bellie, their throte, and greedie deſyre, being euyl guides, haue ledde foorth to ſeruice, wherein it is no marueyle yf they folowe and obey their leaders, and do that whiche whyle they enſued, they haue taken vpon them the baſe title of ſeruitude. But contrariwyſe, they that haue had no ſuche thyng to folowe, enſuing the ſteppes of nature and fortune, doo many tymes, beyng ſeruauntes, make reſemblance as if they were free men. And yf he ment thoſe ſpeeches of ſuche, perhappes I myght harken vnto Seneca, with vnoffended eares.
Sorowe.
Many ſeruauntes poſſeſſe my houſe.
Reaſon.
Then haſt thou muche ſtryfe, muche contention, and many conflyctes in euery matter. New faultes ſhalbe euery day obiected and purged, and thou muſt ſyt as a iudge betweene them. Of a maiſter being made a iudge, thou ſhalt neuer a whit be the more able to expell contention out of thine houſe, howbeit thou mayeſt the contenders.
Sorowe.
I am beſieged with ſeruauntes, without whom I cannot lyue, and what ſhal I then doo?
Reaſon.
If the matter be ſo farre proceeded with thee, that thou dareſt not remayne alone without thine enimies, prouide for thy ſelfe by the ſcarcitie and baſeneſſe of them. Abandon the fairer, the brauer, and craftier ſorte of them: abandon ſuche from thy retinne, as delyte them ſelues in their beautie, wit, or familie. Among fewe, and thoſe dul and rude, thou ſhalt lyue more ſafely, not for that they be better, but for that they be not ſo bolde, whom like as ſerpentes in wynter, the reſtrayned plenty of their poyſon, and the droupyng of their vile ſlouthfulneſſe, hath ouercome and repreſſed Finally, this is the concluſion, that yt which is only or eſpecially to be expected in a ſeruaunt, is fayth and truſtineſſe. If in this reſpecte thou prefer hym any deale, beleeue me, thou ſhalt bye that ſmal pleaſure, whatſoeuer it be, with great encreaſe and vantage of other vices, for that faithfulneſſe is verie rare to be found: but the next kinde of remedie is fewneſſe of them, of which I haue ſpoken, and alſo their baſeneſſe, which is not muche better then the other, but bryngeth leſſe boldneſſe.
Of fugityue ſeruauntes, The .xxx. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
MY ſeruauntes are gone.
Reaſon.
Whoſe preſence was greeuous, their departure ought to be acceptable. There is nothyng almoſt that diſpleaſeth a man, whoſe contrarie doth not delyte hym.
Sorowe.
My ſeruantes are gone.
Reaſon.
O that they would returne, and that thou couldeſt beholde with thine eyes, that whiche thou haſt ſeene in thy minde, howe many vices hange vpon them, howe many kyndes of wickedneſſe, of deceites, of lying artes, of miſcheefes, of rauines, and theftes? And what ſhouldeſt thou do other then abhorre their companie, ſhut thy doores againſt them, and hartily reioyce that thy houſe is ſo happyly rydde of ſo heauie burdens?
Sorowe.
My ſeruauntes are gone away altogeather.
Reaſon.
And togeather with them al greeuous cares, troubleſome heauineſſe, and perpetual feare. Thinke with thy ſelfe how many bellies thou haddeſt to fyll, howe many backes to clothe, howe many wandryng feete to ſhoe, howe many limie fingers to waſh, and then thou wylt ſay that thou art deliuered of a great charge.
Sorowe.
My ſeruauntes are runne away.
Reaſon.
And with them alſo hatred agaynſt their maiſter, and contempt, and grudgyng, and complaintes, moreouer curſinges, and ſecret banninges of thine vndeſerued lyfe: whoſe ſeruice, who is ſo ambitious, but wyl iudge it rather a gaine, then a loſſe, to be without.
Sorowe.
My ſeruauntes are fledde.
Reaſon.
Who euer complayned of the flyght of his enimies? Iulius Caeſar is accompted proude, for that he was ſorie to beholde his enimie flye, whom he thought to haue intercepted: and vnto modeſt conquerers it ſuffiſeth to ſee their enimies turne the backe vpon them: and alſo the ſame Caeſar at an other tyme commaunded that his enimies ſhoulde be ſpared in the chaſe when they fledde, contentyng hym ſelfe onely with their flyght. Doo thou the lyke. And although theſe thyne enimies haue deſerued a more greeuous puniſhment, let it ſuffiſe thee that they be fledde, and by their flyght meaſure thou thy victorie, and learne that there
is taken from thee the neceſſitie of proceedyng from farther puniſhyng them,
Sorowe.
My ſeruauntes are fled.
Reaſon.
Can them thankes that they haue done that wyllyngly, and of their owne accorde, whereunto thou oughteſt to haue enforced them: the payne of expulſyng cruel beaſtes is taken from thee, and yet thou complayneſt, that they be runne away, who vnleſſe they had done ſo, thou muſt needes haue fled thy ſelfe. They are fledde, who either muſt haue been fled from or been driuen away: nowe thou remayneſt a freeman, nowe thou art out of care, and maiſter of thyne owne houſe.
Sorowe
My ſeruauntes are runne away.
Reaſon.
The maiſter hath aucthoritie to be iudge ouer his runne away ſeruauntes: diſſemble nowe thy ſelfe to be a maiſter, and vſe not thine aucthoritie. If they had been good, they woulde not haue runne away, and to looſe them, ſince they are euil, is no loſſe, but a gayne. It is more ſafe to auoyde venomous beaſtes, then to take them.
Sorowe.
My ſeruantes haue left me alone.
Reaſon.
Thou art verily alone, and veryly poore, if becauſe thou wouldeſt not be alone thou haſt neede of retinue of ſeruauntes, as though thou haddeſt no frende, no not thy ſelfe. But howe chaunceth it, that thy ſeruauntes are deſyrous to be without thee, and thou canſt not be without them? Beware that in this reſpecte thou be not more miſerable then thy ſeruantes. But if perhappes thy minde be not ſo muche vpon thy ſeruauntes, as vpon their price and value, it is not thy fonde deſyre, but filthy auarice that ought to be chaſticed, whereof we haue alredye entreated ſufficiently, whereas we ſpake of the loſſe of money.
Of importunate Neyghbours. The .xxxi. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Haue importunate neyghbours.
Reaſon.
Beware that thou be not more importunate vnto them.
Sorowe.
I ſuffer troubleſome neyghbours.
Reaſon.
Opinion beareth
a great ſway in al matters: magine in thy mynde, that they are tollerable, and they are ſo.
Sorow.
I haue euyl neyghbours.
Reaſon.
Many impute their owne faultes vnto their neighbours: Other mens offences are more ſharpely ſurueyed, more exactly diſcuſſed, more ſeuerely iudged: there is no man that is not a frendly and gentle iudge ouer his owne doynges.
Sorowe.
I ſuffer ſharpe and bytter neighboures.
Reaſon.
In taſt perhaps, and not in effect, for vnto thoſe that are proud and diſdainefull, ſweete thynges ſeeme bitter.
Sorowe.
I complayne that my neyghboures are harde and proud.
Reaſon.
Euery man beareth muche with hym ſelfe, but nothyng with another: hereof ſpryngeth great errour, and continuall cauſe of offences. And many tymes where the faulte is, there firſt begynneth the complaint. How knowe we nowe, whether thou ſeeme harde, and frowarde, and intractable vnto them, of whoſe hardneſſe thou complayneſt?
Sorowe.
I ſuffer hard neyghbours.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt a double remedie: pacience, and flyght. The firſt I alowe of, for that al hardnes may be mollified by the arte of ſufferyng.
Sorowe.
I cannot ſuffer ſo euyl neyghboures.
Reaſon.
If by this meanes thou take no profite, who ſhal holde thee? get thee away out of hand, for as they are greuous vnto thee, ſo wil they not folow thee: caſt from thee the burden which thou canſt not beare, and that enimie whom by fightyng thou canſt not ſuſteyne, ſeeke by flying to eſchewe: what ſkylleth it by what path thou eſcape into ſafetie? There is no way to be iudged harde, whereby a man may trauayle vnto tranquilitie of minde. And yf thou haue often attempted it, and art neuer the neare, know this, that it is thyne owne faulte, and perhappes alſo parte of anothers. The greater ſorte of common contentions, hath on eyther ſide one accuſyng another, among whom although the one be more faultie, yet is neyther of them without blame. For although that man be tearmed a ciuile and ſociable creature, yet yf the trueth be diligently examined, there is none leſſe ſo: and this ſaying of the Satyrike Poet is true, That there is greater agreement among ſerpentes and wylde beaſtes, then among men. For Beares, wilde Bores, Tygers, and Lyons, yea, Vipers, and Aſpes, and Crocodilles, and to be ſhort, al lyuing creatures, are ſomtyme at reſt
and quietneſſe in theyr owne kyndes, man only excepted, who is neuer at quiet. For one man alwayes oppreſſeth and vexeth another, and by continual ſtrife and contention procureth a reſtleſſe lyfe vnto hym ſelfe and his neighbour. For ſo it hapneth many tymes, that where is moſte plentie of neere neighbours, there a man may ſe greateſt diſtaunce of myndes and goodwyll. Neighbours are ſeldome without ſcouldyng and hatred, There is none of you, vnleſſe I be muche deceyued, that ſpiteth at the kynges of Arabia or India. Spite is bleare eyed, ſhe can not ſee farre of.
Sorowe.
I am beſet with noyſome neyghbours.
Reaſon.
If thou wilt be throughly diſcharged of this miſchiefe, goe hyde thy ſelfe vp in the wylderneſſe.
Of Enimies. The xxxij. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Haue enimies.
Reaſon.
See that thou be friende vnto iuſtice, a greater defence then whiche, there is none. True vertue treadeth vnderfoote, and deſpiſeth the Threates of fortune.
Sorowe.
I haue enmities.
Reaſon.
Then wylt thou be the more circumſpect, and the better knowne. Enmities haue made many famous, who ſhoulde haue remayned obſcure, if they had wanted enimies.
Sorowe.
I am beſet round about with enimies.
Reaſon.
They wyll be a barre, that pleaſures which are the inuincible enimies of the mynde, take no vantage of thee. Fortune hath not ſo much geuen thee enimies, as keepers, one miſchiefe is driuen away by another.
Sorow.
I am oppreſſed with enimies on euerie ſide.
Reaſon.
They lykewyſe are oppreſſed with their owne affections: and there is among them a reuenger of thine, and that not one only: on thy ſide ſtand wrath, feare, hatred, vnquietneſſe, and they haue not yet made an end, but take reuenge on the treſpaſſe. Thus many tymes reuenge goeth before the offence, and perhaps there foloweth none at all: they ſhalbe armed, they ſhal labour, ſweat, be hot, pant, quiuer, and peraduenture none of all theſe ſhal touch thee. For many often times by theyr extreame hatred, haue hurt them ſelues, and not others.
Sorowe.
I am at contention with myne enimies.
Reaſon.
And they alſo among them ſelues: and many tymes it is more ſafe to ſtriue agaynſt enimies, then agaynſt vices. He that hateth another man, fyrſt geueth a wounde to his owne ſoule, and next many tymes vnto his owne body. For, to much greedineſſe to hurt and ſtrike others, hath layde foorth many vnaduiſed and naked vnto theyr enimies. Thus euermore the firſt part of al miſchiefes turneth vppon the aucthours thereof, and ſome tyme the laſt part, when many tymes he remayneth vnhurt, agaynſt whom the miſchiefe was firſt prepared.
Sorowe.
Warres ryſe agaynſt me on euery ſyde.
Reaſon.
The people of Rome was neuer more famous and holy, then when they were buſied in many and great warres: Their peace was the beginning of their miſchiefe, for with it entred flattering laſciuiouſneſſe, a peſtilent enimie vnto vertue.
Sorowe.
I haue great enmitie.
Reaſon.
Great enmitie many tymes hath been the beginnyng of great friendſhyp.
Sorowe.
I haue enimies.
Reaſon.
Haue alſo truſtineſſe and mercifulneſſe, as for other matters whatſoeuer ſhal happen, prouide that thou be theyr ſuperiours in curteſie and vertue: There is alſo right & iuſtice to be vſed with a mans enimies, with whom ſo behaue thy ſelfe, that thou doubt not but that thou mayeſt be reconciled into friendſhyp with them. And know that this is more holſome counſell then was Biants, who wylleth a man ſo to loue his friendes, that he remember alſo that they may become his enimies: whiche ſaying although it be commended of others, yet neyther I, nor Tullie doo lyke of it. For in deede it is a very poyſon in friendſhyp: wherefore in hatred a man ought to think on loue, & not in loue to thinke on hatred: and truely Ariſtotles counſell in his Rethorickes is farre to be preferred before Byas aduice: A man ſhoulde not, as men commonly ſpeake, loue as though he ſhoulde hate, but rather hate as though be ſhoulde loue. Whereof Ariſlotle wrytyng, reproueth Bias hymſelfe, and alſo his ſubtyle and malicious counſell.
Sorowe.
I haue enmities.
Reaſon.
But haue them agaynſt thy wil, & let a louyng hart of peace dwell alwayes in thine armed breaſt, and ſo goe to warre that thou mayſt ſeeme to be conſtrayned thervnto, leaſt haply humanitie geue place vnto hatred, or leaſt thou ſtudie more for reuenge, then for glory or health. Thou knoweſt
that Hanibal was more hateful to the Romanes then was Pyrrhus, when as both of them were enmities, and Pyrrhus firſt inuaded Italy, but not to the entent to deſtroy it vtterly, as dyd Hannibal, but only to requyre it. We muſt conquere by all the meanes we can, that in euery action true vertue may appeare, ſo that it may ſeeme that nothyng els is ſought for by war, then honeſt peace.
Of occaſion loſt to reuenge. The .xxxiij. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Haue loſt my wyſhed occaſion to reuenge.
Reaſon.
From whom ſinne is taken, nothyng is taken, but much is added: for certayne thynges which men haue, to be taken from them, is a gayne, but to withſtand them, that they may not be had at al, is a greater vauntage.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt the meanes to be reuenged.
Reaſon.
An happy loſſe, to looſe that whiche may hurt thee.
Sorowe.
I am prohibited of my hoped and wiſhed reuenge.
Reaſon.
The chiefeſt point is to haue a minde not to doo euyl, the next to be prohibited.
Sorowe.
I muſt of neceſſitie looſe occaſion of reuengement.
Reaſon.
If it be a notable kynde of reuenge, not to haue a wyll to reuenge, it is an excellent neceſſitie, not to be ſuffered to reuenge. It is the chiefeſt point willingly to embrace vertue, the next, to be conſtrayned therunto.
Sorowe.
I am ſory that reuenge is taken from me.
Reaſon.
The tyme wyll come peechaunce ſhortly when thou mayeſt reioyce, and that thou wouldeſt not wyſhe that it had hapned otherwyſe: Many when they come by occaſion vnto any thing, at length they begyn to haue will vnto it, and to loue it, and theyr liking groweth vpon neceſſitie, and when it beginneth to be a wyl, it ſurceaſſeth to be a neceſſitie.
Sorowe.
I thought I could haue ben reuenged, but I could not.
Reaſon.
Not to be able to doo euil, is a great power, & this qualitie is proper vnto the almightie.
Sorowe.
Preſent reuenge is fallen away from me.
Reaſon.
Thinke that thou haſt let fal a ſnake out of thy hand, & take heede that he creepe not into thine hand agayne. There is nothyng ſo coutrary vnto a man, as vngentleneſſe. By this he ſurceaſſeth to be a man, whiche to be ſo, the name it ſelfe declareth:
there is no ſickneſſe ſo contrary, no not death it ſelfe: For death hapneth by the courſe of nature, but this, far contrariwiſe: To ſhew crueltie vnto a man, is contrary vnto the nature of a man, although it were deſerued: a man ought not to folowe the motion of a wounded mynd, and by the remembrance of a priuate griefe, to forgeat the inſtinct of the common nature.
Sorow.
I ſhall be ſory for euer, that I was reſtrayned from reuenge.
Reaſon.
Perhaps thou ſhalt reioyce for euer: How often, thinkeſt thou, after enmitie layd a part, and friendſhyp concluded, haue ſome abhorred theyr friendes in the middeſt of theyr embraſinges, thus thinking with them ſelues: this man I wiſhed at the Deuyl, and I lacked but litle of bryngyng my wicked deſire to effect? O happie chaunce, to howe good a part haſt thou conuerted my cruell meanyng?
Sorowe.
I cannot be ſuffered to wreake my iuſt wrath.
Reaſon.
A man ſhall ſcarce fynde iuſt anger: foraſmuche as it is written, Mans anger woorketh not the righteouſneſſe of God: and agayne, it is ſaid by an other, Anger is a ſhort madneſse: It is beſt therefore not to be angrie at all: and next, not to reuenge, but to bridle anger, that it cary not away the mynde whyther as it is not ſeemely: the thirde is, not to be able to reuenge, if thou wouldeſt.
Sorow.
I haue loſt notable occaſion to be reuenged.
Reaſon.
Pardon, which is more notable is left vnto thee, and alſo forgetfulneſſe, which is moſt notable of all. The ſame made Iulius Caefar renowmed among all Princes. Great & innumerable were this worthie Emperours conqueſts, his triumphes moſt glorious, his excellencie in chiualrie incomparable, his wyt moſt excellent, his eloquence notable, the nobilitie of his progenie, the beautie of his perſonage, the valure of his inuincible mynde, ſurpaſſing: but when thou haſt heaped togeather all his commendations, thou ſhalt finde nothyng in hym more excellent then his mercifulneſſe, and forgetfulneſſe of offences: which although it procured vnto hym the cauſe of his death, ſo that the ſaying of Pacunius was iuſtly ſong at his buriall, It was my fortune to ſaue ſome, that there might ſome lyue to deſtroy me: neuertheleſſe ſince that he muſt of neceſſitie die, in ſuche a cauſe death was in a maner to be wyſhed.
Of the peoples hatred. The .xxxiiij. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
THe people hate me.
Reaſon.
Then haſt thou the ende of the multitudes fauour, whereof I forewarned thee, to wit, hatred for loue.
Sorowe.
The people hate me without a cauſe.
Reaſon.
Thou woondreſt that they hate thee without a cauſe, who before loued thee without diſcretion, whereof this foloweth, that whereas modeſtie is baniſhed, there ſoueraignitie muſt needes raigne.
Sorow.
The people hate me.
Reaſon.
This beaſt is prompt to iniurie, and flowe to duetie: the commons loue is lyght, and theyr hatred heauie.
Sorowe.
The people is angrie with me.
Reaſon.
If they loue thee, they wyl applaude thee, but yf they be angry, they wyl ſeeke thy deſtructiō, wherin are two vnequal thyngs, danger and hope.
Sorowe.
I am odious vnto the people.
Reaſon.
There is nothyng more forcible then the multitude of fooles, whereas publique fury pricketh foorth the rage of euery priuate perſon, and the rage of euery priuate perſon kindleth the publique frantickneſſe, and one of them enforceth another. And there is nothyng more dangerous then to fall into theyr handes, whoſe wyll ſtandeth for iuſtice, & headlong outrage for diſcretion.
Sorowe.
The people hate me.
Reaſon.
I woulde they had not loued thee, no not knowen thee. The loue of euyll perſons endeth with hatred: Both whiche are vncertayne, and only ignorance ſafe.
Sorowe.
I am hated of the people.
Reaſon.
A malitious people ought eyther to be appeaſed, or forſaken.
Of enuie, paſſiuely. The .xxxv. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
MAny doo enuie me.
Reaſon.
It is better to be enuied, then pitied.
Sorow.
I am troubled with ye enuie of my ilwillers.
Reaſon.
And who euer was friend vnto vertue, that wanted that kinde of exerciſe? Run ouer in thy thought al lands, al ages, peruſe al hiſtories, and thou ſhalt ſcarce finde a man of any excellencie free from this peſtilence. I meane not now to enter any diſcourſe, the which may leade vs far away
from our purpoſe, but if thou remember any thing that euer thou haſt read, thou canſt not be ignorant of many by whoſe felowſhyp thou mayeſt not only conceiue comfort, but alſo vaunt thy ſelfe.
Sorowe.
I am ſpyted at.
Reaſon.
Forſake honours and publique functions, leaue of the occaſion to be ſpoken of among the people for thy ſtately pace, and proude retinue: Sequeſter thy ſelfe as muche as thou canſt from the eyes of many that are enuious, neyther geue occaſion vnto them to point at thee with the finger, eyther for thy looke, woorde, or geſture. The common people and malice dwell togeather in the ſtreetes, and ſo for the moſt part dooth all wickedneſſe: Certayne enimies are by no meanes better eſcaped, then by flight, & ſeeking corners.
Sorowe.
Malice foloweth after me, although I flie and hide my ſelfe.
Reaſon.
Take away the cauſe of euyl, and thou ſhalt take away al euyll it ſelfe. Be meaſurable in thy ryches, and whatſoeuer thou haſt, that by the excellent beautie and ſhewe thereof may enflame the minds of men and ſet their teeth one edge, either caſt it of, or keepe it out of ſight. If thou haue any thyng whiche thou wylt not or canſt not want, vſe it modeſtly: that enuie whiche pryde hath prouoked, humilitie wyll aſwage. There are alſo certayne effectuall remedies whiche doo ſoone extinguiſh it, but they are woorſe then the diſeaſe it ſelfe, to wit, miſery, and an infamous lyfe: Concernyng one of whiche I haue ſayde alredy, that miſerie only is without enuie. And vnto the other appertayneth ye ſaying of Socrates: For when on a tyme Alcibiades demaunded by what meanes he might eſcape enuie, Socrates anſwered, Lyue ſayde he, as dyd Therſites, whoſe lyfe yf thou knowe not, thou maiſt reade it in the Iliades
of Homer. Truely a ſcoffyng and perfect Socratical anſwere: for there is no wyſedome to forſake vertue to eſchew enuie, and better it were to be Achilles with enuie, then Therſites without it: although it be alſo wel knowne, that certayne excellent men, to the intent to lyue at quiet, haue for a tyme diſſembled both theyr vertue, & wiſedome.
Sorowe.
Many doo enuie me.
Reaſon.
Thou canſt ſcarce eſcape enuy but by cowardice or miſerie, & if thou eſcape it by any of theſe meanes, thou ſhalt fall into contempt, both whiche to be free from, were a very harde matter.
Sorowe.
I am ouerborne with the hatred
of many.
Reaſon.
There is, as ſome ſay, another meanes and way to treade enuie vnderfoote, to wyt, by excellent glory, but this path is but litle tracted, ſo that many that begynne to walke forwarde therein, doo ſlyppe into that whiche they woulde eſchewe.
Of Contempt. The .xxxvj. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
BVt I am contemned.
Reaſon.
If it be iuſtly, thou haſt cauſe, I confeſſe, to be ſory, notwithſtanding thou muſt ſuffer it: but other wyſe, thou mayeſt laugh at it. For there is nothyng more ridiculus, nor that hapneth more commonly, then for a wyſe man to be contemned of mad men.
Sorowe.
I am contemned.
Reaſon.
Touchyng this one woorde, ſome haue ſayde that foure good thynges are ſignified thereby: to contemne the worlde, to contemne no man, for a man to contemne hym ſelfe, and that he is contemned of other: of this laſt thou haſt neede.
Sorow.
I am contemned of many.
Reaſon.
If it be of thy elders, ſuffer it: yf of thyne equalles, beare with it: The fyrſt doo vſe theyr aucthoritie, for, for the moſt part leſſe thynges are contemned of the greater: The other expoſe them ſelues to be contemned, & ſeeing by none other meanes they can become thy ſuperiours, they thynke to wyn it by this meanes. As for thyne inferiours let them alone, let them rage, and regard not theyr contempt, whiche ſhall redowne vnto theyr infamie, and thy glory. Therſites contemned Achilles of whom we ſpake before, and ſo dyd Zoilus Homer, and Antonius Auguſtus, and Euangelus Virgil, and Caluus Cicero. And, as we haue learned in the Goſpel, that whiche is greateſt of all, Herode, beyng a moſt vyle and miſerable man of all other, contemned Chriſte our Sauiour. But what dyd this contempt eyther hurt the contemned, or auayle the contemners?
Sorow.
I am contemned and ſcorned.
Reaſon.
I knowe not what theſe laughyng games are, or what conceyte is in the myndes of common ieſters, and ſo muche the more, for that the cunnynger haue neede of the leſſe
cunnyng, and the one of them ſcorneth at another.
Sorowe.
I am contemned of others.
Reaſon.
Examine thy ſelfe, whether thou doo or haſt contemned other: This is the maner of you men, to contemne and be contemned, and one to proſecute another with mutuall hatred and contempte, and yet you woulde be reuerenced of other, and your ſelues reuerence no body: you goe about to pleaſe GOD, whoſe woorkes doo none of them pleaſe you, as they ought to pleaſe: concernyng whiche thyng, our countreyman Cicero hath ſpoken ryght nobly, yf any thyng may be ſpoken nobly in the name of the Goddes, It canne not ſtande with reaſon, ſayth he, foraſmuche as one of vs contemneth and deſpiſeth another, that we ſhoulde requyre of the Goddes that they woulde loue vs, and be friendly vnto vs. But muche more excellent is the ſaying of the Prophete Malachie, Haue we not all one father? hath not one GOD created vs? Why then dooth euery one of you deſpiſe his brother?
Sorow.
It greeueth me that I am contemned.
Reaſon.
Although no man woulde be deſpiſed, and many woulde fayne be feared, yet is it muche more ſafe to be deſpiſed, then feared. And therefore that whiche Anneus Seneca ſayth in a certayne Epiſtle, It is as yl to be contemned, as ſuſpected. I doo not alowe. But I ſuppoſe rather that he ſayde better in an other place. That it is more daungerous to be feared, then contemned. And therefore learne by the auncient ſaying of the wyſe, that theſe three thyngs are to be auoyded, of which we haue entreated in ſo many continuall diſcourſes, which although they be all euyll, yet out of all doubt this laſt is the leaſt, although the vyleſt of them, and yet euery one hath his peculiar remedie. Hatred is appeaſed by curteſie, enuie by modeſtie, contempt by the friendſhyppe of great perſonagies, and alſo by honeſt practiſes and vertue. There was none more contemtible at Rome then was Brutus at the begynnyng, but afterwarde no man more hyghly eſteemed of. Atchiue then alſo ſome good and great enterpriſe, by meanes whereof thou mayeſt not be contemned.
Of long expectyng a promiſed rewarde. The .xxxvii. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
THe promiſes made vnto me, be late in perfourmance.
Reaſon.
Why doeſt thou complayne of this alone, whiche is common with all men? Nothyng more debaſeth a gyfte, then an harde graunt, and a ſlowe perfourmaunce. But this is your manner, you woulde receyue quickely, and geue at leaſure, vnto the one you be nimble, vnto the other vnwyllyng, haſtie vnto the one, and to the other heauie. Here is a double roote of ingratitude, and a double cauſe of complayntes, while ſome are greeued with tarience, and other with to much ſpeede.
Sorowe.
There be many thinges promiſed me, but nothing performed.
Reaſon.
Great promiſers ought to be ſmally truſted. Mens vanitie is knowne, their flatterie knowne, their lying knowne. Hath one man promiſed thee many thinges? it is ſufficient that he hath promiſed thee, goe ſeeke another to perfourme them, one man cannot do al thynges: this promiſer hath prouided that in the meane whyle thou ſhouldeſt loue hym.
Sorowe.
That is not perfourmed whiche was promiſed me.
Reaſon.
Of two ſortes of couetouſneſſe, more mightie is that whiche holdeth faſt, then that whiche craueth.
Sorowe.
O, how many promiſes dyd ſuche a man make vnto me?
Reaſon.
Eyther he mocked thee, or he was deſyrous to be beloued for a tyme, as I ſayde erewhyle: and perhappes whyle he promiſed thee many thynges, he required ſome one thyng of thee, whiche he thought to be well gotten for the price of a great lie: for this vnderſtand, that they whiche are ryche in woordes, are many tymes poore in deedes.
Sorowe.
O howe many thynges are promiſed me?
Reaſon.
If thou wilt credite me, ſuche as promiſe many thynges thou ſhalt not credite.
Of Repulſes. The xxxviii. Dialogu. e
SOROWE.
I Take it greeuouſly that I haue ſuffered a repulſe.
Reaſon.
Wouldeſt thou then obteyne whatſoeuer thou deſyreſt, ſo that nothyng ſhoulde be denyed thee? take heede that this deſyre of thine proceede not of intollerable pryde. It behoued thee to haue thought on Pompeius the great, a worthier then whom I knowe not yf euer there were any, of whom notwithſtandyng it is written, that he would haue thoſe thinges geuen him, which alſo myght be denyed hym. How many thinges do we know to haue been denyed to Emperours, being moſt valiaunt and of high renowme? and doeſt thou take a repulſe or twayne ſo heauily? To be ſhort, howe many thinges dooth God require dayly at mans hande, yet lacketh God nothyng, neyther doth he entreate vs for any thing.
Sorow.
I cannot quietly take a repulſe.
Reaſon.
Why doeſt thou arrogate to thy ſelfe the libertie of aſkyng, and takeſt from other aucthoritie of deniyng? Is it becauſe, as often tymes it chaunſeth, that an vnreaſonable requeſt, geueth occaſion of a reaſonable deniall? Or is it becauſe the repulſe oftentymes was profitable to hym that craued, to whom otherwyſe it woulde haue been hurtful if he had obteyned?
Sorowe.
I ſuffer a repulſe wrongfully.
Reaſon.
Yf thy repulſe be wrongfull, thy requeſt was right and iuſte, reioyce then that the fault is an other mans, rather then thine.
Sorowe.
I haue a repulſe where I deſerued it not.
Reaſon.
There are many that thinke they haue deſerued much, when in very deede they haue deſerued nothyng: From hence commeth the greefe of a repulſe, from hence proceed al complaynts, wherewith al the world and the whole lyfe of man is filled.
Sorowe.
I ſuffer a ſhameful repulſe.
Reaſon.
There is nothing ſhameful but a fault: For what ſhame could that bring vnto thee, that was not in thy power to perfourme?
Sorowe.
I haue a repulſe where I thought to haue had none.
Reaſon.
Thought is vncertayne, but thinges are certayne, and to be vnable to denye that whiche is aſked, belongeth not to a free man, but to a bond ſlaue: and to be vnhable to abide a repulſe, is not the part of a citizen, but of a Tirant.
Sorowe.
I haue a repulſe
of that thyng whiche I deſyred and hoped for.
Reaſon.
Yf men ſhoulde obteyne whatſoeuer they hope for or deſyre, they ſhoulde be al goddes: but thou, to the ende thou mayeſt auoyde al diſpleaſures and greefes taken by repulſes, learne to deſyre poſſible and honeſt thynges, and not to haue a mynde to obteyne whatſoeuer thy vnſaciable or foolyſhe deſyre luſteth for, or vayne hope ſhal put in thy mynde.
Sorowe.
I was not onely repulſed, but an vnwoorthier was preferred before me.
Reaſon.
How often do we ſee the vnwoorthie to be preferred before the woorthie, and oftentymes the vnworthie to be iudged of as vnworthy as them ſelues, beyng ſeuere iudges in other mens matters, but in their owne caſe very fauorable? There are many that wyll ſay they are vnwoorthy, but there are fewe whiche thinke ſo in deede.
Sorowe.
I haue a repulſe of a ſmal thyng.
Reaſon.
We do often tymes ſee ſmall thinges denyed, and great thynges willingly offered. If the gyftes of fortune ſhalbe recompenſed with repulſes, the ballance wyl hang euen, but you encreaſe thoſe by indignation, and diminiſhe the other by forgetfulneſſe and diſſimulation.
Sorowe
I was woorthy, as I ſuppoſe, not to be repulſed.
Reaſon.
I graunt it be ſo, but dooſt thou thinke that al thinges are graunted or denied, accordyng to the woorthineſſe of men? I woulde it were ſo, that the hope of rewarde myght make many moo good men, and the feare of puniſhment make the fewer euyl. But the caſe ſtandeth not ſo, for loue, hatred, hope, deſire, & ſecret affection, haue mingled togeather & diſordred al thinges. Wouldeſt thou haue fortune to chaunge her common condition to wardes thee only, and not thou thy ſelfe to bende to wardes the common courſe of mans nature?
Sorowe.
Howe farre vnwoorthier then I am, is my coſuter preferred?
Reaſon.
And Lucius Flaminius, who for a notable crime had deſerued preſent iudgement to be depoſed from the order and dignitie of a Senatour, was preferred before Scipio Naſica, a man accounted to be moſt worthye, aſwel by the iudgement of the Senate, as alſo by the whole voyce of the common people? Howe was Vaſinius preferred before Cato, an obſcure man, before a moſt commendable ſenatour, and that not onely by the verdit of the people, his frendes, and his enimies alſo, but alſo in the whole
volume that Cicero wrote: what ſayſt thou in this caſe, euen that they are greeuous, & not new thynges that thou ſuffereſt.
Sorow.
I hoped for muche, I deſerue not a litle.
Reaſon.
I tolde thee euen nowe, that thou ſhouldeſt deſerue muche, and yet al thynges are not geuen through deſertes. Do we not ſee, that to whom a thyng is once denyed, yet the ſame perhappes is graunted within a whyle after to the ſelfe ſame man? which thyng happened to the ſame Scipio of whom I ſpeake: For conſtant vertue manye tymes breaketh the force of repulſes. To this beare wytneſſe Emilius Paulus, Metellus Macedonicus, Lucius Numius, who tooke al of them a repulſe for the Conſulſhyp, and the ſelfe ſame men afterwarde were adorned with moſt noble dignitie, and triumphes: and of whom before they were had in contempte, to the ſame citizens afterwarde they were a ſpectable: and ſurely they had neuer atteyned vnto thoſe honours, yf they had endeuoured to lament with greefe the repulſes of the people, rather then to ouercome the ſame with valiauntneſſe of vertue. Although Lucius Sylla, who in the ende being ſtyrred vp to eiuil diſſention, ſtayned his name with open crueltie, but neuertheleſſe was a moſt noble and renowmed Citizen, had taken the repulſe, not onely of the Conſulſhyp, but alſo of the Pretorſhyp, afterwarde he atteyned to the hygheſt dignitie in the common wealth, inſomuche that he coulde not onely hym ſelfe procure the Pretorſhyps, Conſulſhyps, and Empires, but alſo beſtowe them on other. A repulſe ought not to take away hope, but to geue it, to ſtyrre vp careful diligence and vertue, whiche be it neuer ſo ſharpe a thyng, yet it aſwageth it, and yf it happen that it doth not ſo, yet it is not therefore to be forſaken, leaſt it ſhoulde ſeeme that it is embraced onely for it owne ſake, and it owne ende. To be ſhorte, theſe men haue valiauntly ſuſteyned their repulſes, but Pub. Rutilius, hearyng of his brothers repulſe whiche he had ſuſteyned in ſuing for the Conſulſhyp, ſoddenly fel downe dead. Chooſe thee now, whether of theſe thou haddeſt rather folowe.
Of an vniuſt Lorde. The .xxxix. Dialogue.
SOROW.
THe common wealth ſuffereth an vniuſte lorde.
Reaſon.
Perhappes it hath deſerued it, and that kynde of myſcheefe is a due puniſhment for the other: and we ſee ſeuere iudges exerciſe iuſtice, as wel in hel, as els where, and although it ſtandeth for a reaſon, yet ſometymes it maketh haſt: & that is verified whiche is wrytten, There is a God that iudgeth men on earth. There be ſome of opinion, that deuyls are made of men, thorow their dayly licentious offendyng, and libertie in ſinnyng: whiche thyng is tollerablye ſpoken, for that the likelihood of wicked diſpoſitions doth cauſe it, wherein a wicked man, and ſuche a one as continually perſeuereth in wickedneſſe, is almoſt equall with the deuyl. To whiche opinion, if it be alowed, this ſaying wyl wel agree. That thorowe gods iuſtice, one deuyl oppreſſeth an other. In whiche caſe of al other this is moſt miſerable, that it happeneth often tymes, that the giltleſſe are puniſhed among the wicked. And that ſaying of Flaccus falleth out many tymes to true, and to often, That many tymes the opportunitie that is necglectd in puniſhyng the adulterer, doth bryng the innocent into daunger: whiche thyng without doubt, although vnknowen to vs, yet is it done not without the ſecret iuſtice of God.
Sorowe.
We ſuffer a cruel Lord.
Reaſon.
Crueltie truely is an euill thing, and quite agaynſt the nature of man, but it is profitable agaynſt vice, and vnto the vnbrideled people abrydel, and feare proceedyng from al ſides: and it is more expedient for them to feare, that knowe not howe to loue, howe ſoeuer the caſe ſtand. There is no lorde ſo cruel, but that pleaſure, the companion and daughter of proſperitie, is more cruel then he. Nothyng can be worſe for euyl doers, then careleſneſſe and libertie. He that feareth nothyng, is nigheſt to deſtruction.
Sorowe.
The vnfortunate people ſuffereth an vniuſt lorde.
Reaſon.
Beleeue me, there is no man amongſt al the common people, more miſerable then a Tyrant: Whiche thing yf thou doubt of, beholde Dioniſius. he being a wycked man, yet not vnlearned, what opinion he had of
hym ſelfe and of his owne tyrannye, the hanging vp of the ſworde, with the poynte thereof ouer his frendes head, doth openly declare. The hyſtorie is commonly knowen. The people ſtandeth in feare of the Tiraunt, and the Tiraunt of the people, and in ſuch ſorte one ſtandeth in feare of the other, to their great greefe. In this poynt it differeth, that the miſerie of the people dooth appeare, but of the Tiraunt lyeth cloſely hydden. Notwithſtandyng the wounde that is couered with a purple roabe, pincheth euen as ſore. Neyther do fet
•
ers of golde greeue a man any leſſe, then fetters of Iron. And as his miſery may conſiſte in filthyneſſe, and ſmokyneſſe, ſo euen in brauery and banketryng it is included. The garment of a Tiraunt, on the outſide is golde, but yf thou turne it, thou ſhalt fynde al the inner ſide ful of ſharpe prickelles. So thou mayeſt perceiue that Tirants do not altogeather in theyr raging ſcape ſcotte free, or that the oppreſſion of the people is vnreuenged.
Sorow.
We haue a very vnmerciful lorde.
Reaſon.
Lordes would not be ſo plentiful, neyther rule & rage ſo wyde abrode, vnleſſe the people were madde, and that euery citizen did not regarde their priuate, more then the common wealth, pleaſure more then glory, money more then libertie, lyfe more then vertue.
Sorowe.
Our ſeruile contrey ſuffereth one lord.
Reaſon.
Not one lorde, but thirtie lordes at once, did that noble mother of lawes, Athens, ſuffer, which was the ſeconde light of al Greece.
Sorowe.
Our countrey hath one lorde.
Reaſon.
Yea, but Roome had many: For who hath not hearde of the Caligulas, the Neroes, and Domitians, the Commodoes, Heliogabales, Baſcianes, and Calienes? and that I may not recken vp al the ſhames of the Emvire, the Maximini, and the haters of al godlineſſe, the Iulian
•
, and Deci
•
. Aſſiria ſuffered Sardanapalus, Perſis Syrus, Greece Menander, and Aſia ſuffered ſome that were called kynges, who were in deede very cruel tyrauntes, and vnmerciful Dioniſians. Sicilia ſuffered Phalaris, Lacedemon abode Cleomenis, Agathocles and Nanides, whom alſo the Argi did ſuffer, and therewith alſo the womanyſhe couetouſneſſe of his wyfe, who ſurpaſſyng her huſbande inſcrapyng togeather, ſhewed great tyrannye in her kinde, after a ſtrange ſorte. But whyther do I proceede? who is able to recken
vp eyther the newe, or the olde Tyrauntes? who in theſe dayes are ſo many in number, and haue taken ſo deepe roote, that what with their ryches and power of the people of the one ſyde, and their maners and mad bedlemnes on the other ſyde, they can neyther be numbred nor rooted out. Neyther neede you to thinke that ſeruitude is turned into nature any leſſe with you, then it was with the Egiptians & Medes, who had al their liberty ſuppreſſed and quite buried: inſomuch that the greater part of the people, yf they haue not a Tiraunt, they wyl ſue earneſtly to haue one, or els ſeeke to bye one: ſo that it ſeemeth your fathers were aſhamed to be ſuche ones as they were borne to be. For you al, for the moſt parte, being borne and brought vp in ſeruitude, as you haue cauſe to complayne of the olde greefe, ſo haue you no cauſe to find fault with any newe.
Sorowe.
We are oppreſſed with the heauie yoke of a mightie lorde.
Reaſon.
The fable of Ariſtophanes the Poet is very profitable, which warneth vs not to nouryſhe vp a Lion within cities, but if he be once nouriſhed vp, that then we ought to obey him: for the miſcheefe which commeth of Tiranny by nature, is not to be augmented by impacience, neyther that power, which thou thy ſelfe haſt let vp, by thee to be violated: For ſeldome hath it been ſeene, that a Tirant hath riſen vp among the people, without the fault of the citizens. For it is an olde ſaying, Eate that which thou haſt nouriſhed.
Sorowe.
We ſuffer an importunate lord.
Reaſon.
If al power come from God, whether it be for the exerciſe of the good, or puniſhment of the wicked, it is meete that thou ſhouldeſt thinke thy ſelfe ſubiecte to the power of God, & not of man: whoſe miniſter if he ſeeme to be ſeuere, it may come to paſſe that thorow pacience he may wax gentle. For there is ſcarſe any mynde ſo cruel, but that thorow obedience & ſeruiceableneſſe it wil be calmed. To be ſhort, whatſoeuer it be that oppreſſeth, it ought to be eyther ſuffered, or quite laide out of mind: For there is no meane beſide impatience, which, as I ſaid, doth not diminiſhe greefes, but encreaſe them.
Sorowe.
We haue an euyl lord.
Reaſon.
You al haue one enimie whom ye know wel, & he being but one, hath many which he knoweth not, & therfore is in more daungerous ſtate.
Sorowe.
We haue a very euyl lorde.
Reaſon.
But he wyl not continue long, yf the philoſophers iudged aright, who ſayde, That no violent thing can continue long.
And truely, yf thy countrye haue but one good citizen, it ſhall not very long haue an euyl lorde.
Of an vnlearned Scholemaiſter. The .xl. Dialogue.
SOROW.
I Haue an vnlearned Scholemaiſter.
Reaſon.
Although the vnlearned cannot make a man learned, and that the common ſaying be true, That it is in a ſkilful man, to be able to teach: Yet a man may become learned vnder an vnlearned teacher, eyther by his owne meanes, or els, whiche ſeemeth more true, through celeſtical influence and inſpiration. And that I may vſe the woordes of Cicero, by diuine instinte,
without the whiche we ought not to beleeue that any can be eyther learned or good▪ And this poynt is not onely grounded vpon true religion, but alſo is agreable vnto the aucthorities of gentyle philoſophy.
Sorowe.
I heare an vnlearned Scholemaiſter, agaynſt my wyl.
Reaſon.
But heare the heauenly Scholemaiſter wyllingly, who hath geuen thee eares, not theſe onely whiche we ſee, but inuiſible ones within the mynde. Here hym, who teacheth man wyſedome, as it is wrytten. Who moreouer, yf he holde his peace, what euer mortal Scholemaiſter he be, be he neuer ſo well learned, he loſeth his labour.
Sorowe.
I ſuffer impaciently an vnlearned Scholemaiſter.
Reaſon.
Eyther flye from hym, and ſeeke an other, or els returne to thy ſelfe. And remember though Cicero do many tymes ſcorne at Epicurus, Senica notwithſtandyng counteth hym a notable felowe, who had not only not an vnlearned Scholemaiſter, but none at al, as he him ſelfe boaſtingly doth often repeate. Remember alſo what Saynt Auguſtine wryteth of hym ſelfe, whom it were a ſinne not to beleeue in al matters, who as the ſame aucthour wryteth, vnderſtoode Ariſtotles predicamentes, whiche are accompted amongeſt the moſt hardeſt thinges: and alſo the liberal ſciences, any one wherof to learne perfectly of a Scholemaiſter is compted a harde matter. Theſe I ſay did he vnderſtand, and no man taught hym. And laſt of al thinke vpon Saint Bernarde, a moſt excellent man for learnyng
and holyneſſe, who got al his knowledge, wherin he excelled all other of his tyme, in the wooddes and fieldes, not by the inſtruction of man, but by contemplation and prayer: neyther had he euer any other Scholemaiſters (as he witneſſeth of hym ſelf) then Okes and Beeches. Yf theſe thynges haue been doone: Why may they not be doone agayne? whiche vnleſſe it had been ſo, what ſhoulde the firſt men haue doone, who neyther had any Scholemaiſter, neyther coulde fynde any? Therefore by woonderyng, by thynkyng, by lyfting vp of the minde, and ſharpening the wyt, dyd they fynde out thoſe thyngs which you with all your Scholemaiſters doo ſcarcely vnderſtande. Doo thou alſo ſome great matter, and diſtruſt not to intermeddle thy ſelfe with great exploytes: And yf thou want a mortall, thou ſhalt haue an heauenly ſcholemaiſter, on whom all other Scholemaiſters doo depende: He it is that hath made al things, both wyttes, and ſciences, and maiſters.
Of an vnapt and proude Scholar. The .xlj. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Haue an vnapt Schollar.
Reaſon.
Thou looſeſt thy labour, thou ploweſt the ſea ſande, thou caſteſt away thy ſeede, nature is not altered.
Sorowe.
Fortune hath brought me a dull ſchollar.
Reaſon.
Thou tilleſt a barren ſoyle, vnyoke thyne Oxen, why dooſt thou weery thy ſelfe? Spare hym and thy ſelfe, and ſince there are ſo many labours neceſſarie, and whiche cannot be auoyded, to ſeeke after needleſſe trauayles it is a folly.
Sorowe.
I haue a ſchollar vnapt to learnyng.
Reaſon.
If he be apt to learne vertue, holde hym to that, and ſo haſt thou taught hym the beſt artes: But yf he be capable of neyther, let hym alone, and poure no licour into a leakyng Caſke, which wyll not remayne therein, and ſo conſume thy ſelfe with perpetuall weerineſſe: and thus perſwade thy ſelfe, that all that are, or that haue been, or euer ſhalbe excellent in vertue or learnyng, are not able to ſtirre vp one wit, vnleſſe there be ſome ſparkes within the mynde, whiche beyng kyndled and holpen by the Scholemaiſters
induſtry, doo conceyue the commendable nooryſhment of diſcipline: for otherwyſe thou ſhalt but puffe and blow the aſſhes in vayne.
Sorowe.
I haue an vnruly and proude ſchollar.
Reaſon.
Pryde is an enimie vnto wyt, and whyleſt an inſolent ſchollar diſdayneth to be holden vnder, and careth not to be taught, he wyll hardly yeelde his hande to the Ferula, his mynde to inſtruction, his eare to reprehenſion, and his necke to the yoke.
Sorowe.
I haue a ſchollar puffed vp with proſperitie.
Reaſon.
As ſwellyng of the eyes hurteth the eye ſight, ſo ſwellyng of the mynde troubleth the wytte, that there can be no entraunce vnto learnyng: all pryde ought to be repreſſed. Thou knoweſt howe Alexander King of Macedonie, when on a time he applyed his mynd to the ſtudie of the Mathematques, & there were layde before hym certayne obſcure Geometrical rules: beyng offended with the difficultie of them, he commaunded his ſcholemaiſter to teache hym the ſame more playnely. But what anſweared he? Theſe thynges, ſayde he, are a lyke difficult vnto al men: whiche he ſpake to this ende, to beate from him all hope of his Princes prerogatyue. And truely it is ſo in deede, for as concernyng the diſpoſition of mans wit, fortune hath nothyng to deale therin, and who ſo deſireth to be learned and wyſe, let him quite forgeat that he is of power and aucthoritie.
Sorow.
I haue an ignorant, and a hygh mynded ſchollar.
Reaſon.
Thou ſayleſt agaynſt the wynde and the tyde, hale in the ſayles and goe to ſhore.
Sorowe.
I haue an obſtinate and a frowarde schollar.
Reaſon.
Thou dooeſt not only dygge the ſande, but alſo nooryſheſt vp a Serpent, and tylleſt a venemous plante, yea, and teacheſt an enimie.
Sorowe.
I teach a ſlyffenecked ſchollar.
Reaſon.
Thou ſyngeſt in a deaffe mans eare, but ſo the worlde goeth, and ſome are delyghted in great noyſes, and ſome in quiet ſilence: The greateſt ſway in all dooynges dooth cuſtome alwayes beare? Marke howe ſtyll the Fyſher is, and howe loude the Hunter, and the Scholemaiſter louder then he, yea then the Raunger of a Foreſte.
Sorowe.
I haue gotten an harde harted ſchollar.
Reaſon.
Thou mayeſt oftentymes reclayme the head of a Beare, ſooner then of a Man. What wouldeſt thou more? It is ſet downe
in a fable how that the Wooolfe & the Foxe went to ſchole togeather, and ye Elephants haue ben learned: it is no old wyues tale, but a natural hiſtorie. And ſo it may chaunce that this thy ſcholler by ſtudie may alter & mollyfie nature. In my iudgment the lyfe of a ſhepheard and of a ſcholemaiſter ſeemeth almoſt all one, & it is marueyle but that both of them will be manered according to their liuing: The one of them guideth beaſts, ye other boyes.
Of a Stepdame. The .xlij. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Haue a Stepdame.
Reaſon.
Then thou haſt a father alſo. Thus goeth the courſe of mans lyfe, that meery thyngs are myxt with ſorowfull, ſowre with ſweete: and I wyſhe that ſweete and ſowre, beyng thus equally mixt togeather, dwelled not here amongſt vs.
Sorowe.
I haue an vniuſt ſtepdame.
Reaſon.
Thou vſeſt Virgils terme very aptly: but how much the more vniuſte ſhe is to thee, ſo muche the more labour thou to be iuſter then ſhe.
Sorowe.
I haue a very proude ſtepdame.
Reaſon.
It is the propertie of a woman to be proude, and therefore of a ſtepdame: yf two cauſes doo engender one effect, there is no cauſe why thou ſhoulde & be amazed, but that thou ſhouldeſt ſuffer, and therein thou ſhalt ſhewe thyne owne ſelfe both a good naturall ſonne, and alſo a good ſonne in lawe.
Sorowe.
I haue a very proude ſtepdame.
Reaſon.
Pryde is ouercome by no meanes better then by lowlyneſſe.
Sorow.
I cannot abyde my ſtepdame.
Reaſon.
But thou muſt ſuffer thy father: Yf thou loue hym wel, thou ſhalt the better abide her.
Sorowe.
I haue a wicked, & an importunate ſtepdame.
Reaſon.
Be thou duetiful & pacient towardes her: thou oweſt loue vnto thy father, pacience towards a woman, reuerence to thy ſtepdame.
Sorow.
I haue a malapert ſtepdame.
Reaſon.
Do not commit, that her malapertnes be greater thē thy duetifulnes: There is nothing hard, nothing difficult vnto duetifulneſſe, the ſame aduanceth men vnto God, & plucketh downe god vnto men. As often as thy ſtepdame ſhalbe in her outrage, thynke not on her, but on thy father.
Sorow.
I haue an iniurious ſtepdame.
Reaſon.
Womens iniuries are better requited with cōtempt, then with reuenge.
Sorow.
I ſuffer a greeuous ſtepdame.
Reaſon.
Thou ſayeſt well, I ſuffer: For to faynt, and not to be able to ſuffer a foolyſhe ſimple woman, is not the part of a man.
Sorow.
My ſtepdame hateth me.
Reaſon.
Loue thou her, and it is Gods commaundement, that we ſhoulde loue our enimes: but to loue, that thou ſhouldeſt be loued agayne, is the counſayle of the Heathen Philoſophers.
Sorowe.
My ſtepdame hateth me.
Reaſon.
It may ſuffiſe thee if ſhe loue thy father, and it is not the duetie of a ſonne to hate her that loueth his father: but if ſhe hate hym, whom dooth ſhe not hate? For and yf ſhe loue another man more then her huſbande, ſee that thou be not he.
Sorowe.
My ſtepdame hateth me ouer muche.
Reaſon.
Perhaps the hate of thy ſtepdame is leſſe hurtfull then her exceeding loue: Dooeſt thou know the Hiſtorie of Phaedra and Hippolitus? Truely that hatred whiche thou oughteſt not to reuenge, ought eyther to be pacified, or auoyded, or ſuffered,
for there is none other meanes. Complaintes oftentymes doo encreaſe hatred.
Of the hardneſſe of a Father. The .xliij. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Suffer an harde father.
Reaſon.
The hardneſſe of a father, is many tymes profitable for the ſonne: cocklyng is alwayes to be condemned▪ and the tongue is not only to be vſed, but alſo there muſt be no ſpare of the rod, as the learned haue geuen counſayle: And by theſe twaine, is al the direction of young wits ordered, which yf they be vſed in vayne, then to greater griefes we muſt geue ſtronger medicines, as baniſhment, and impriſonment, yea and moreouer, according to the order of the olde Romanes. extreame puniſhment, and death, which not only Conſuls & Captaines, vnto whom publique aucthoritie gaue iuriſdiction ouer al men, but alſo thoſe priuate auntient & ſeuere fathers, vnto whō only theyr countrey gaue them power ouer their children, haue moſt extreamely executed, as we reade in hiſtories, among whom the ſeueritie of Caſſius & Fuluius is moſt ſpecially renowmed. Goe thou thy wayes now, and cal thy father, that is to gentle, an harde father.
Sorow.
I ſuffer an harde father.
Reaſon.
What maner of ſonne thinkeſt thou did he ſuffer of thee
when thou waſt a chylde, and lykewyſe afterwardes when thou waſt a young man? This is an harde thyng to perſwade them in, that doo very muche pleaſe them ſelues: But beleeue me, there is nothing more payneful then to ſuffer the vnruly manners of that age.
Sorowe.
I ſuffer an harde father.
Reaſon.
What if thou be an harde ſonne? Harde thynges by harde thyngs are more effectuouſly mollified, and often times the ſcarre of a gentle Surgion is more euyll fauoured.
Sorowe.
I haue an harde father.
Reaſon.
If he be a true father in deede he loueth thee, and yf he loue thee, he thynketh vpon the thynges that may profite thee, and not flatter thee.
Sorowe.
I haue an extreame harde father.
Reaſon.
Thoſe thynges that ſeeme very harde vnto thee, perhappes ſeeme profitable vnto hym, whoſe iudgement is more certayne, and affection more incorrupt. Youth meaſureth nothyng but that whiche lyeth before theyr eyes, ryper age foreſeeth many thynges.
Sorowe.
I haue a very harde father.
Reaſon.
See that thou be not harde vnto hym, ſo that whyleſt he reſiſteth thy ſhame, thou diſquiet his lyfe with thyne vnthrifcie demeanure.
Sorowe.
My father is very hard.
Reaſon.
He that neclecteth the good eſtate of his ſonne, the ſame is to be counted an harde father, although in ſhewe he appeare very gentle: but he that by aduice and counſayle draweth his ſonne the ryght way, prouokyng hym forwarde alſo, ſome tymes by word, and ſome tymes by deede, or els when he ſeeth him backwarde blameth hym, or vnwillyng compelleth him, and although in outwarde ſhew he ſeemeth ſomewhat ſharpe, yet is he not a hard father. The ſeueritie of a father is commonly more profitable for the ſonne then his gentleneſſe.
Sorowe.
My father is hard.
Reaſon.
Zeale, ſorowe, feare, and age, do excuſe a fathers frowning.
Sorowe.
I do paynfully abyde an hard father.
Reaſon.
What yf that happen vnto thee which hath worthily hapned vnto many of thy mynde, to wit, that thou be conſtrayned to abide the hardneſſe of another? What yf it ſhoulde chaunce thee thy ſelfe to begin to be the father of a ſtubberne ſonne? Then ſhouldeſt thou knowe how pleaſant a thyng the yoke of a father were, and howe ryght is his aucthoritie: Now vnderſtandeſt thou but only one thyng that delighteth thee,
and in the ſame one thyng thy iudgement hath no delight of the mynde, but is deceyued with the delyght of the ſenſes.
Sorowe.
I haue an harde father.
Reaſon.
Admit he be harde, nature hath made hym thy iudge, and not thee his: whiche order the Ciuyl lawe foloweth, and is aſhamed to ſee the ſunne to correct and chaſten the father? Thou oughteſt to be aſhamed to enterpryſe that whiche the lawe is aſhamed to lycence any ſonne to doo: ſuffer thou, and let hym iudge of thee that begate thee, and brought thee vp, commit thou the iudgement of hym to other, and yf thy father haue not deſerued true prayſe, yet at the leaſtwyſe reuerence hym with duetifull ſilence.
Sorowe.
My father vſeth harde behauiour.
Reaſon.
The behauiour of thy father is not to be blamed, but to be borne with: There is no greater reproche to Alexander, then that he woulde ſeeme to attempt, I wyll not ſay to ſpeake euyl of his father, but enuie his fathers commendations: Thou oughteſt eyther to ſpeake worſhypfully of thy father, or els to holde thy peace altogeather.
Sorowe.
I haue an harde father.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt a meane to ſhewe thy loue, to ſhewe thy honeſtie, to ſhewe thy pacience, and to ſhew thine obedience. In al the world there is none more iuſt then the empyre of a father, no ſeruice more honeſt then of a ſonne. There is nothyng ſo muche a mans owne, as the ſonne is the fathers, there can nothyng be more vniuſtly taken from hym then his ſonne: But you with a headlong and intemperate deſire, beyng borne to be ſubiect, deſyre to be Soueraigne, and thus you both withdrawe your ſelues from your father, and alſo vſurpe the gouernment whiche your fathers ought to baue ouer you, wherein is a double miſchiefe: Whereby it commeth to paſſe, that the raſhneſſe of youth diſturbeth the dueties of all thynges. Nowe hereof it proceedeth, that when perhappes you be reſtrayned from this, then you complayne of the ſharpeneſſe of your father, beeyng woorthie your ſelues, in your owne iudgement, that it ſhoulde be lawfull for you to doo all thynges, only in this reſpect, for that you be ſonnes: and ye haue learned alſo to pleaſe your ſelues at lookyng Glaſſes, whiche you ſhall then at length perceyue, when yee begynne to perceyue howe ſhamefully you haue wyſhed for it before your tyme.
Sorowe.
I
haue a rough father.
Reaſon.
What yf his roughneſſe be fatherly? For the father oweth a rough carefulneſſe vnto his ſonne, and the ſonne a reuerent duetifulneſſe, obedience, and humbleneſſe vnto his father. Concernyng Manlius Torquatus thou haſt read in Hiſtories, and alſo in Marcus Tullius, that as he was very louyng vnto his father, ſo was he bitterly ſeuere vnto his ſonne, perhaps woorthyly blamed by iudgement of the common people for the one, but hyghly commended by vpryght deemers for them both: ſuche diuerſitie is there in mens opinions.
Sorowe.
I haue an harde father.
Reaſon.
To late it is or euer you knowe your good, O yee mortall men. But when you begynne to knowe it, then doo you acknowledge it to muche: and thus yee loath the thynges that be preſent, and lament for them when they be loſt. The one of theſe taſteth of to muche pryde, the other of ouer much humilitie, both where yee ought to geue thankes, and where you ſhoulde geue example of pacience, but in both yee complayne, and in neyther beare your ſelues indifferent: is this your thankefulneſſe towardes God and men?
Sorow.
I haue an harde father.
Reaſon.
The tyme wyll come when thou ſhalt ſygh and wyſhe for this thy father, and ſhalt cal hym, and he wyl not anſwere thee. And he that nowe ſeemeth vnto thee more harde then ſtone, ſhal then ſeeme vnto thee that he was more ſoft then downe.
Sorowe.
I haue an harde father.
Reaſon.
Thou knoweſt not what it is to haue a father, as long as thou haſt hym.
Of a ſtubberne ſonne. The .xliiij. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Haue a ſtubberne ſonne.
Reaſon.
It is meete, that thou that couldeſt not beare with thy father, ſhouldeſt ſuffer thy ſonne, as beyng the heauier burden: For one ſharpe woorde of the ſonne irreuerently ſpoken by hym that is proude, doth more vexe and greeue the minde, then whatſoeuer hardneſſe of a ſeuere father. For the ſonne offereth the iniurie in ſo dooyng,
but the father dooth but that whiche is right.
Sorow.
I haue a rebellious ſonne.
Reaſon.
Impudently doth he complaine of the rebellion of his youngers, that before tyme deſpiſed the iuſt aucthoritie of his elders.
Sorowe.
I haue a ſtubberne ſonne.
Reaſon.
At length perhaps thou doeſt now vnderſtand, what it was that thou thoughteſt of thy father that ſeemed ſo harde vnto thee.
Sorowe.
I ſuffer an inſolent ſonne.
Reaſon.
If the faulte be in his age, it wyll we are away with it. The vnbridled youth of many, in preceſſe of tyme, by ſtrange encreaſe, hath been conuerted vnto thriftineſſe.
Sorowe.
I haue a rebellious ſonne.
Reaſon.
Thou art not alone: For Dauid, and Mithridates that was Kyng of Pontus, & Seuerus the Emperour of Rome, had all rebellious ſonnes, and alſo many hundred yeeres after, the ſeditious minde of a young Prince, who ſtirred a rebellion agaynſt the kyng his father, diſturbed the common quiet of the Realme of Britaine, as the common bruite goeth: but euery man bewayleth his owne miſchaunces, and none the diſcommodities of an other, or the common calamitie.
Sorowe.
I haue an vngodly and rebellious ſonne.
Reaſon.
A great part of the griefe of a father is taken from thee, if thou feare thy ſonnes death.
Sorowe.
I haue a ſtouthful and a daſtardly ſonne.
Reaſon.
Knoweſt thou not, how that the worthy Scipio Africanus had a ſonne very vnlyke vnto hym, which alſo dyd degenerate, notwithſtandyng he loued hym tenderly? And truely we ought to beare more affection, I wyll not ſay loue, vnto hym whom nature doth leſſe helpe. He hath neede of nothyng that is ryche in vertue, the want whereof maketh men very wretches, and ſo in conſequent very needy of mercifulneſſe: and therefore thou for thy part, yf vertue be not in thy ſonne, yet loue hym, becauſe he is thy ſonne: yf not for that cauſe, then for that he is a man: Laſtly, yf there be no cauſe at all why thou ſhouldeſt loue hym, them pittie hym. As ſeueritie belongeth to a father, euen ſo dooth compaſſion.
Sorow.
I haue a ſonne of a moſte wicked lyfe.
Reaſon.
An vnlucky burden, and ſo much the heauier, that as long as it is to be ſuffered, it cannot be quite caſt away: ſuffer, and as thou mayſt amend it, ſo ſhalt thou either cure thy ſonne, or at the leaſt play the part of a father,
but this thou oughteſt to do of duetie, and wyſhe the other.
Sorowe.
My ſonne is very vngodly, vncurteous, and vnreaſonable.
Reaſon.
If wantonneſſe and pleaſure be once growen vnto knauery and myſcheefe, then is there a venomous beaſt to be driuen out a doores, neyther muſt we regard where, but what is borne and ſprung vp: for you nouryſhe vp birdes bread in the wylde wooddes, and ye kyl ſcorpions brought vp at home in the houſe.
Sorow.
I haue a very wicked ſonne.
Reaſon.
It is the part of a wyſe man to put a way daungerous thinges before they do any harme at al. Let not the ſhadow of godlyneſſe deceyue thee, no godlineſſe is due vnto an vngodly perſon. A man may ſometyme finde where it is a kynde of crueltie to be godly, but whyle there remayneth the leaſt ſparke of hope, alwayes enclyne thy ſelfe vnto mercy and remember that thou art a father, and not a iudge, and ſee thou forget not here that notable ſaying of Terence, For a great fault, a litle puniſhment is ſufficient of a father.
Of a contentious brother. The .xlv. Dilalogue.
SOROW.
I Haue a contentious brother.
Reaſon.
And what of hym? then hath he not thee an agreeyng brother, for brotherly agreement, whiche ought of twayne to make but one, is deuided in twayne, ſo that you are made not diuers only, but quite contraryes: a greeuous miſcheefe ſurely, but an auncient, which both the worlde and the head of the worlde had in the begynnyng: For the infamie of the citie of Rome is auncient, but that of the world is of more antiquitie, to wyt, that it was embrued with the blood of brethren. Therefore that which thou ſeeſt betweene al cooples of brethren, yea when there was but one coople only in the world, haſt no cauſe to be amaſed at it now among ſo many thouſandes.
Sorowe.
I haue a very contentious brother at home.
Reaſon.
Doeſt thou marueyle that to be in a greate houſe, whiche hath been in the narowe roome of one mothers wombe? where as in time paſt (which was a ſhadow of a greater miſery) we reade of brothers that were not onely among them ſelues contentious,
but alſo togeather by the eares? Is it any ſtrange thing then that men, being armed, ſhoulde do that whiche they that are vnborne are wont to doo?
Sorowe.
I fynde no fauour with my brother.
Reaſon.
Thou oughteſt rather to haue learned this long before in the ſchooles, than to haue found it true in effect at home: thinges that are foreſeene, are neyther complained of, nor woondred at.
Sorowe.
I haue an odious and contentious brother.
Reaſon.
As for the moſt part there is no loue more tender then the loue of brethren, ſo when it beginneth, there is no hatred more vehement, no enuie more vnquenchable. Thus equalitie inciteth and enflameth their mindes, when as the ſhame of geuing place, and the deſyre of ſuperioritie, is by ſo much the more feruent, the more that the remembrance of their infancie togeather, or what ſo euer els may ſeeme to engender goodwyl, when as they be once digreſſed from the ryght way, may procure hatred and diſliking betweene them: in this reſpect therefore, the hart burnyng of a rebellious nature, may be very wel reclaimed, namely by curteſie & gentleneſſe. For there is no nature almoſt ſo rough and vnciuile, whom at length true & continuall humilitie in woordes, and vnfeigned and gentle dealing in al matters, wil not ouercome and molifie. If thou finde this to be voyde and without force, or that peraduenture thou thy ſelfe canſt not enforce thy minde hereunto, whereby he may be honeſtly and profitably conſtreyned, then before that the matter breake foorth vnto vtter deſtruction, thou muſt vſe the laſt and extreame remedie, the roote of the miſcheefe muſt be plucked vp, and comunitie remoued, which is the mother of diſcorde: wherein thou muſt demeane thy ſelfe ſo curteouſly, that looke howe muche thou yeeldeſt of thy right, ſo much thou ſhalt perceiue to be added vnto thy vertue and fame. The ſharpe prickes of impious & proud deſire, are by nothing better rebated, then by vertuous and curteous liberalitie. That gold is good, whereby the peace of familie, and brotherly loue is purchaſed. It is a very auncient, and no leſſe true ſaying, That theſe two pronownes, myne and thyne, are great cauſe of warres and diſagreement, whiche yf they were taken away from out of the life of man, out of doubt men ſhould liue muche more quietly.
Of the loſſe of a father. The .xlvi. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Haue laſt my father.
Reaſon.
It is meete, that him whom thou complainedſt of while he was preſent with thee, thou ſeeke him when he is abſent, and yet not finde him. There is nothing more iuſt, then in vaine to wyſh for the aucthoritie which thou haſt contemned.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt a good father.
Reaſon.
It is wel that he hath left a good ſonne behinde hym: reioyce for the good olde mans ſake, vnto whom at length that hath hapned which he alwayes wyſhed for: who leauing thee in ſafetie, is departed hym ſelfe out of this worlde.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt a louing father.
Reaſon.
A good ſonne ſtandeth in dread of the chaunces of fortune for none other cauſe, then that any calamitie befallyng vnto hym, myght ſtrike his fathers mind with ſorowfulneſſe: but nowe thou ſhalt lyue more at quiet at thine owne peril only, he ſhal not any more be greeued with rumours of thee, thine aduerſitie ſhal not breake him, thy ſickneſſe ſhal not weaken him, thy death ſhal not kyl him.
Sorow.
I haue loſt a moſt louing father.
Reaſon.
Thou muſt nowe begin to care for other, for he that was woont to care for thee is gone. That tenderneſſe that was ſhowed ouer thee, repaye thou vnto another, it is ſeldome repayed vnto whom it is due.
Sorowe.
Poore wretche I haue loſt a louing father.
Reaſon.
If thou knowe the reaſon and nature of loue & tenderneſſe, comfort thy chaunce by remembrance of the time paſt: Thou diddeſt reuerence thy father, and as long as thou couldeſt, thou ſhewdſt thy ſelfe alwayes duetiful vnto hym: thy father is departed, but thy duetifulneſſe lyueth: otherwyſe. I confeſſe, thou haddeſt cauſe to be heauie continually.
Sorowe.
My father by dying hath forſaken me.
Reaſon.
Take in good part the common courſe of nature, he is firſt gone that firſt came into the world, neyther hath he forſaken thee, but is gone before thee.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt my father.
Reaſon.
Thou knoweſt not what it is to leeſe a father, vnleſſe thou haddeſt had a ſonne.
Of the loſſe of a mother. The xlvii. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Haue loſt my mother.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt yet another mother whom thou canſt not leeſe if thou wouldeſt, from the firſt thou
cameſt, and vnto this thou ſhalt returne. The firſt gaue thee houſéromth the ſpace of a few monethes, the other ſhal giue thee lodging the ſpace of many yeeres. The one of theſe gaue thee thy body, the other ſhal take it away.
Sorowe.
My moſt milde mother is dead.
Reaſon.
But a moſt hard mother remayneth, who wyl keepe thee and thy mother whom thou bewaileſt in one beſome, in whoſe wombe ſhe ſhal reſt with thee, and as we beleeue, bryng you both foorth agayne at the laſt day.
Sorowe.
My good mother hath forſaken me.
Reaſon.
She made haſt, fearyng to be forſaken, and likely it is, that her death was acceptable vnto her, becauſe ſhe would not ſee thine, prouiding for her ſecuritie in that whiche alwayes ſhe moſt feared.
Sorowe.
My good mother is dead.
Reaſon.
She is happily dead, thou being a lyue, whiche beyng otherwyſe, ſuch are the affections of women, ſhe would haue died in ſorowful lamentation.
Sorowe.
My mother is dead.
Reaſon.
Shee muſt haue died, and thou alſo, neyther canſt thou complaine of death, nor of the order therof.
Of the loſſe of a ſonne. The xlviii. Dialogue.
SOROW.
BUt I haue loſt my ſonne.
Reaſon.
Say rather and better, I haue ſent hym before me, for thou ſhalt folowe hym quickely, and perhappes to day, and howe know we whether this ſame houre? There is no truſt in lyfe, ſince there is ſo great certentie in death: ſhalt folowe hym ſayde I? Nay rather thou doeſt folowe hym I woulde haue ſayde, for thou foloweſt hym continually: it is not permitted vnto a man at any tyme to ſtay his courſe in this lyfe, but euermore he ſteppeth foorth one ſtep vnto death: a ſtrange matter to be ſpoken, whether he be bound or at libertie, ſicke or whole, walkyng or ſitting, awake or ſleepyng, he is caryed foorth toward his ende, much after the manner of them that ſayle in a ſhyp, or ſitte and ride in a wagon, and are carried foorth a pace.
Sorowe.
I am greeued with the lacke of my ſonne whom I haue loſt.
Reaſon.
Qiuet thy minde, for thou ſhalt finde hym whom thou deſireſt ere it be long: not to be able to ſuffer the want of a
ſhort tyme, is the part of a childe, or a woman: for vnto a man there is no ſhort thing difficult. Thou knoweſt, I thinke, by what woordes Socrates in Plato, and Cato and Lelius in Cicero. do comfort ſuche deſires and wantes. Although men ſurpaſſe in vertue and glory, yet in this hope do ſome farre ſurpaſſe other. Thou knoweſt moreouer of what minde Paulus Emilius, Cato hym ſelfe, Pericles, and Zenophon, that was ſcholer vnto Socrates, and ſcholefelowe with Plato, and his equal, and other innumerable, were for the death of their chyldren: neyther art thou ignorant howe he that was both a prophet and a king, wept for his chylde whyle it was ſicke, but not when it was dead, thinkyng, that to lament and weepe for thinges vnrecouerable, is rather a poynt of vayne madneſſe, then of true affection. Among the number of whiche manly examples the Spartane woman ſhuffeleth her ſelfe, whoſe name is not ſet downe by wryters, nor her ſaying ſemblably commended, who hearyng that her ſonne was ſlayne in battayle, therfore, ſayd ſhe, did I beare hym, that he ſhoulde not be afrayd to dye for his countrey. The vertue of Linia, and the elder Cornelia, is nothyng inferiour vnto this, but their names muche more famous, of whom the firſt layde downe her mournyng ſo ſoone as her ſonne, of moſt honourable byrth, and that was lyke to haue aſpired vnto the hygheſt degree of Empire, was once layd into the ground, but neuer left of the remembrance of hym: The other, hauing loſt many chyldren, yea al that ſhe had, whereof ſome ſhe behelde ſlayne by the people, and lying abrode vnburyed, when as other women, accordyng to the manner of that ſexe, rued her ſtate, and pitifully weepyng bewaled her woful caſe, ſhe anſweared, that ſhe was not infortunate, but happie, for that ſhe had borne ſuch ſonnes. A woorthy woman, that was not ſurpriſed with the preſent miſerie, but counted her ſelfe happie for that whiche was paſt, who contrary to the common opinion and cuſtome of them that are in miſerie, comforted herſelfe with her forepaſſed felicitie, and the remembrance of her proſperitie wherin ſhee had ſomtime liued, and tooke it indifferently, although ſhe had then loſt it, & for that cauſe only was woorthie to haue bad good children. Now ſhe, being a woman, remained wholy not once touched with the greeuous and ſharp woundes
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of fortune: and thou, beeyng a man, art ouerthrowne by one only, doeſt thou lament ſo childiſhly?
Sorow.
I haue loſt my ſonne.
Reaſon.
If he were a duetiful ſonne, there is no cauſe to feare his eſtate, for he is well: But yf he were wicked, thou art rydde of one that counted vpon thy death, and encreaſed the infirmities of thine olde age.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt my ſonne.
Reaſon.
If he were vertuous, reioyce that thou haddeſt hym: but yf he were vnthryfty, be glad that thou haſt loſt hym, and in eyther caſe acknowledge the benefite of nature, eyther for geuing thee ſuche a one, or for takyng hym a way.
Sorowe.
Death hath taken away my ſonne before his tyme.
Reaſon.
That is not done before due tyme, whiche may be done at al tymes. Death hath directe entrances into al ages, but into youth innumerable.
Sorowe.
I haue remayned without a ſonne.
Reaſon.
And without trouble and feare. Now haſt thou none, for whoſe cauſe thou ſhalt ſpend the nyghtes without ſleepe, and the dayes in care, for whoſe ſake thou ſhalt enter into long and inextricable hope, that ſhall thinke vpon thy hory heares, and wryncles, examine thy lyuing, fynde fault with thine expences, and blame the ſtaying of thy death, thou art in ſecuritie and quietneſſe on euery ſide, both which are a great commoditie, although it be made more bitter by the name of death.
Sorowe.
I am caſt downe by the geeuous death of my ſonne.
Reaſon.
Haſt thou not hearde what Anaragoras ſayth? Haſt thou forgotten that thou begatteſt a mortal creature? Or doeſt thou perhappes lament, that he is gone before, that ſhould haue folowed? And although the lyfe of man in many other thinges be diſordinate and out of courſe, yet death keepeth his ordinarie cuſtome, crooked olde men ſtagger, and young men make haſt, and chyldren runne headlong, & infantes at their firſt entrance into lyfe are drawen to their ende: one man more ſlowly, another more ſpeedily, one more ripely, another more vntimely, but euery man muſt die: this is the concluſion of al. And in whatſoeuer age of this lyfe a man die, be it gently or ſharpely, he haſteth vnto death.
Sorowe.
I weepe for the death of my ſonne.
Reaſon.
If thou wouldeſt haue wept at his death, thou ſhouldeſt alſo haue wept at his birth, for then he began to die, but nowe he hath done. But do not thou lament for thine owne and his moſt
excellent eſtate: he left behind him a perilous way to paſſe, but thou hauing him alwayes before thine eyes, who now is in ſecuritie, haſt no farther regarde of thy ſweete burden, as Virgil ſpeaketh, or of any other.
Sorowe.
Al my delite to lyue, is extinguiſhed.
Reaſon.
A good ſonne, I confeſſe, is a great comforte vnto his father, but notwithſtanding careful & greeuous. And many times the ſweeteſt things do offend vs, and the deareſt do hinder vs, and the moſt precious do oppreſſe vs. And perhappes this thy ſonne was ſome let vnto thy minde, that would haue aſpired vnto greater matters. And now although thou art become more heauie, yet ſince thou art at more libertie, be of good cheare: to gather good out of euyl, is the part of a wiſe man.
Sorowe.
The death of my lonne hath made me heauie.
Reaſon.
But ſpende the reſidue of thy lyfe that remayneth, in iolitie: thou diddeſt lyue for hym, now lyue for thy ſelfe.
Of the miſerable fal of a young child. The .xlix. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Lament the miſerable fal of my young child.
Reaſon.
A man ought to lament for nothing that may happen vnto mankinde: al thinges ſhould be premeditated before, if they haue not hapned alredie: lament not thy childes fal, but thine owne vnſkylfulneſſe, & the forgetfulneſſe of thine owne condition.
Sorow.
I complaine of the miſerable death of my young childe.
Reaſon.
There is no death miſerable, which the death of the ſoule doth not folow, from which daunger thy young child is free.
Sorowe.
My childe is dead by breaking his necke.
Reaſon.
What ſkylleth it after what ſort a man dye, ſo that he die not diſhonourably, & he can not die diſhonourably, that dieth without offences.
Sorowe.
My chylde is peryſhed by breakyng his necke.
Reaſon.
But Archemorus by the biting of a ſerpent, other ſome by ſuckyng milke of a nurſe being with child, other by ſickeneſſe, the which for the more part happen more commonly then, than in old age.
Sorowe.
My young child is periſhed by breaking his necke.
Reaſon.
Sodeyne death is to be wiſhed of the innocent, and to be feared of the guiltie.
Sorowe.
My chylde is dead of a fal from an hygh.
Reaſon.
Unto them that dye languiſhingly, death often times ſeemeth the ſharper, & the panges the longer: for al paine, ye
ſhorter it is, the more tollerable it is.
Sorow.
My chylde is dead by breakyng his necke.
Reaſon.
To ſtumble and fal, is proper to that age. Thy chylde hath done that which al doo, although al peryſhe not by caſualtie: but do thou ſuffer hym to peryſhe, for he muſt needes peryſhe one day, and he is the more happily dealt withal, for that he hath peryſhed before he was intangled in the euylles of this lyfe, whiche howe manyfold they be, thoſe that haue prooued, and diligently obſerued, can tell. There is none that prooueth not in part, and they that obſerue them not, leade foorth their liues as it were in a dreame, whiche ſo ſoone as they awake, they haue forgotten: Thyne, infant died an innocent, who perhappes, if he had lyued, had dyed a very hurtful perſon. Lament not that he is ſafe, he hath eſcaped al the threates of fortune, and hath preuented death, whiche being deferred, would haue preuented hym.
Sorowe.
A woolfe hath deuoured my chylde.
Reaſon.
This nowe is the woormes complaynt.
Sorowe.
A woolfe hath carried away the body of my poore chylde into his denne.
Reaſon.
But the angels haue caryed vp his bleſſed ſoule into heauen.
Of a ſonne that is found to be another mans. The .l. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
ANd moreouer (that whiche is more greeuous then death) he whom I thought had been my ſonne, is another mans.
Reaſon.
If you had a reſpect to the common father, then would you by the counſel of the Comical Poet, thinke that there is no humane thing but may happen vnto you.
Sorowe.
I haue foſtred another mans chylde a great while for mine owne.
Reaſon.
Nature wylleth a man to foſter his owne, and charitie, to foſter another mans, ſo that thou repent thee not after the deede, but delite in it.
Sorowe.
He that was counted my chylde, appeareth to be another mans.
Reaſon.
There is opened vnto thee a way vnto a great and ſinguler merite, if, as thou haſt hytherto done, ſo thou continue
hereafter, to keepe hym as thyne owne. Truely that were a very gracious and acceptable deede before God. For chyldren are woont for the more parte to contemne the mayntenance of theyr parentes, as a thyng due vnto them by ryght: and moreouer, it were a poynt of wickedneſſe to loue thy chylde that is borne of thee, and not to loue man that is created of God. Thus euery way, both before God and men, thou ſhalt purchaſe vnto thy ſelfe ſinguler commendation and vertue, through another mans wickedneſſe.
Sorow.
I haue nooryſhed one for my chylde that was not ſo.
Reaſon.
Thou nooryſhedſt hym as thy chylde, and ſo nooryſhe hym ſtyll, yf not as thy chylde, yet as thy brother: For of al the people that are, or euer ſhalbe, or haue been heretofore, there is one father, and one gouernour. Doo not diſſemble through inſolencie, or through enuie and hatred breake of the ſacred bond of nature: for you be brethren one to another.
Sorowe.
He whom I thought to haue been, as I heare, is not my ſonne.
Reaſon.
Take heede of whom thou heareſt it, and whom thou truſteſt. For many, beyng pricked foorth by wicked prouocations, doo of ſet purpoſe deuiſe falſe rumors: and other ſome by a certayne ſlyppryneſſe and vnbridled affection of the tongue, doo aſwell babble foorth the thynges that they knowe, as that they knowe not, and with lyke impudencie vtter whatſoeuer commeth in theyr mynde: Howbeit, to determine preciſely of a mans chylde, whether it be his owne or not, is an harde caſe.
Sorowe.
I heare ſay that he that was called my ſonne, is another mans.
Reaſon.
Why dooeſt thou herein beleeue other rather then thyne owne wyfe, ſince none knoweth it more certaynely then ſhe? Truely ſhe hath geuen thee a chylde, whom other goe about to take from thee. Thou haſt heard, I thinke, howe that within the remembrance of our fathers there was a certaine noble man, who had to wyfe a gentlewoman of equall beautie and parentage, but of whoſe honeſtie the report ſeemed ſome what to doubt: By her he hadde one moſte beautifull ſonne, whom when his mother vppon a tyme helde in her lappe, and perceyuyng that her huſbande ſyghed and was carefull, ſhe demaunded of hym what was the cauſe of his heauineſſe? Then he ſyghyng agayne, I had rather, ſayde
he, then the one halfe of my landes, that I were as ſure that this boy were myne, as thou art that he is thyne. Whereunto ſhe aunſweared, neyther in countenance nor mynde any whit moued: Truely, ſayde ſhee, the matter ſhall not coſt ſo great a price: but geue me an hundred acres of paſture, whereon I may feede my cattayle, and I my ſelfe wyll reſolue thee in this matter. Then he anſweared, that it was impoſſible. But ſhe ſendyng for ſuch Noble men and Gentlemen as dwelt neere hande, and cauſyng hym to geue his woorde for the perfourmance of his promyſe, helde vppe her young ſonne in her armes, and, Is this my chylde in deede, myne ſayde ſhe? And when they all anſweared, yea: ſhe ſtretched foorth her armes, and delyuered hym vnto her huſbande, and heere, ſayde ſhe, take hym, I geue hym thee freely: and nowe be aſſured that he is thyne. Then al that ſtoode by, brake foorth in laughter, and gaue iudgemente on the womans ſyde, and condemned the huſbande by all theyr verdictes. Such contentions and lamentations are thereto often among men, they be haſtie to marriage, yea ſlipperie and headlong: you thynke you ſhall neuer ſee the day wherein you ſhalbe huſbandes, that is to ſay, men, as though otherwyſe you ſhoulde neuer be men. Then beyng reſolued in ioyes, or to ſpeake more truely, in madneſſe, the fyrſt dayes of your marriage you ſpende in reuel route, feaſtyng and daunſing, among your weddyng ſolemnities, with paſtimes, and ſonges, and minſtrelles: and the reſidue of your lyfe you ſpende in ſuſpition and braulyng. In both, you are to blame: For neyther ought you in ſuche ſorte to loue ſo doubtful a thyng, neyther to abhorre ſo inſeparable a thyng, nor to hate ſo louely a thyng, and by deceiptfull coniectures ſo to confounde the moſte ſacred lawes of the diuine and humane houſe, and diſſolue the moſte entyre bondes of this lyfe.
Sorowe.
Yea, my wyfe her ſelfe hath confeſſed that he is none of myne.
Reaſon.
Thou telleſt me this, as yf it were ſome ſyngular matter, but it is common: ſome confeſſe ſo muche whyle they are lyuing, and ſome when they lye a dying, among whom ſome haue wylled to haue it imparted vnto theyr huſbandes after theyr departure.
Sorowe.
Myne owne wyfe hath con
•
eſſed vnto me, that he is
〈…〉
my ſonne.
Reaſon.
Olimpias that was wyfe vnto the renowmed kyng Phillip of Macedonie, confeſſed as muche vnto her huſbande, whiche myght haue tended vnto the deſtruction of her valiant ſonne: and yet we reade neyther of teares, nor ſighes, nor complayntes among them all. Nowe hearken to a meery tale, but not vnfyt for our purpoſe. Not far from the Ocean Sea ſhore, whiche lyeth right ouer agaynſt Britaine, not very many yeeres agoe, report goeth that there was a certayne poore woman, fayre and well fauoured, but a notable Harlot, who had twelue ſmall chyldren, by as many ſeuerall men, one of them but a yeere elder then other. But beyng ſicke, when ſhe perceyued that the houre of her death was come, ſhe cauſed her huſband to be called vnto her, and, this is no tyme, ſayde ſhe, nowe to diſſemble any longer, there is none of all theſe chyldren thyne, but the eldeſt only: for the firſt yeere that we were married I lyued honeſtly. It chaunced that at the ſame time, al the children ſate on the ground about the fire eating, according to ye maner of the countrey. At which woordes the good man was amazed, and the children alſo that hearde their mothers communication, whoſe fathers ſhe reckoned al by name as they were in order of yeeres: Which thyng the youngeſt of them all hearyng, who was then but three yeeres olde, immediatly layde downe his bread which was in his ryght hande, and the Rape roote whiche he had in his left, vppon the grounde beſyde hym, and tremblyng with feare, and holdyng vp his handes after the maner of them that pray, Now good mother, quoth he, geue me a good father: And when in the ende of her ſpeache ſhe had tolde who was father to the youngeſt, to wit, a certayne famous ryche man: takyng vp his bread and meate agayne in his hand, That is well, ſayde he, I haue a good father.
Of the loſſe of a brother. The .Lj. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Haue loſte my brother.
Reaſon.
Yet I heare no cauſe why thou ſhouldeſt be very ſory. For Ouid ſayth to true, that there is ſeldome agreement betweene brethren.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt my brother.
Reaſon.
It may be that thou haſt at once loſt both a brother, and an houſholde enimie. Loe, ſee then what thou haſt loſt, an yll thyng couered with a good name.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt a brother.
Reaſon.
Perhappes thou haſt loſt hym that hath wyſhed thee loſt, and that alwayes reſiſted thyne attemptes. Brothers hatred hath hyndred many from the entraunce vnto great commendation.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt a brother.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt loſt peraduenture an heauie yoke, as oftentymes we haue ſeene it fal out, vnto the tender yeeres of thy chyldren, thou haſt loſt alſo the enuier of thy lyfe, the hynderer of thy glory, and alſo, which is euident, the partner of thy patrimonie.
Sorow.
But I haue loſt a vertuous and louyng brother.
Reaſon.
But a mortall one. Vertue is no defence to the body, but an ornament to the mynde, and a procurer of immortall glory, but as for the body ſhe cannot exempt it from the power of death, but rather thruſteth it forwarde many tymes thereunto before due tyme: but yf he be left vnto nature, good and had doo peryſh a lyke, and moſt commonly we ſee the beſt men weakeſt, and the woorſt long lyued, but none immortall.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt a good and gloryous brother.
Reaſon.
If thy brother be dead, the glory, vertue, & ſoule remaineth in ſafetie, which only excepted, death conſumeth and deſtroyeth all other worldly thinges with lyke violence. Theſe therfore embrace thou, as yf they were ſo many ſonnes of thy brother, & with theſe immortal good things, requite the mortal euil: but if he haue ſonnes liuing, vnfeigned duetifulnes ſhal make them thine.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt a good brother.
Reaſon.
Thou ſhouldeſt haue employed hym diligently, which if thou diddeſt necligently, his death is not to be blamed, but thyne owne ſlouthfulnes. Death hath exerciſed his power, but thou haſt ſlacked thyne oportunitie.
Sorow.
Death hath deceiued me, for I thought not that he woulde haue died ſo ſoone.
Reaſon.
All thinges that happen vnto them that are vnwillyng, ſeeme to come quickly, but if they be wiſhed for, they come but ſlowly.
Sorowe.
I ſcarce thought that he could haue died.
Reaſon.
Vehement loue beareth with it ſelfe in al things, and promiſeth it ſelfe euery thyng, vnpleaſant thoughtes, & whatſoeuer is noyſome
vnto caſt it eſcheweth: inſomuche as whoſoeuer is in loue, imagineth vnto hym ſelfe that his pleaſures are in a maner euerlaſtyng: thou, ſince thou kneweſt that thy brother was borne, oughteſt alſo to knowe that he was mortall, and therefore yf thou bewayle his tymely death as ſome ſodaine matter, thou art much deceyued, but if as it were vntymely, thou waſt in a wrong opinion.
Sorowe.
I knewe that he was mortall, but I thought not vpon his death.
Reaſon.
Vnwyſely doone, but this is your diſſimulation: beyng mortall ye thynke neuer to dye, when as you may chaunce to dye euery day, and needes you muſte dye one day: Yea rather it is the vnchaungeable neceſſitie of the law of your nature, that you can neuer be other then ſuche as muſte oye, whiche neceſſitie muſte continually remayne with you: but you dying euery day, turne away your ſenſes from the thynges that are preſent, and your mynde from the ende that wyll enſue. This is a common miſchiefe, whiche what is it other then wyllyngly to ſhut your eyes that they beholde not the beames of the Sunne, as though it were hurtful aſwel to the lyght as it is to the eyes not to beholde it, and that that were as euident whiche you ſee not, and that as true whiche you knowe not. Who is ſo blynde that ſeeth not this, or ſo blockyſhe that vnderſtandeth it not? The infyrmitie of the ſenſes or vnderſtanding, withdraweth nothyng at all from the trueth of thinges. As for you, yee are neyther weake nor dull, but, wherein you cannot be excuſed, egregius diſſemblers, and very wyſe to deceyue your ſelues, who with ſo great diligence learne vnprofitable thynges, and endeuour to be ignorant of neceſſarie matters, but all in vayne: for they ſteale vpon you though your eyes be ſhut, and inuade your myndes that are deſyrous to be ignorant, and diſquiet your memories that are wyllyng to forget, and many thynges aryſe dayly in the lyfe of man, whiche conſtrayne you to thynke vppon them when you woulde not, and whiche doo awake your diſſimulations, eyther by your priuate or forreigne argumentes: but I confeſſe, that death only at full confuteth all the follies of mortall creatures.
Sorowe.
I knewe that my brother was mortall and ſhoulde dye, neuertheleſſe I weepe for his death.
Reaſon.
The greater
part of humane actions is ſuperfluous: Why weepeſt thou for his death? What doeth this weepyng auayle hym, or thy ſelfe, or any other? Admit death be euyll, whiche the learned denye, truely no man wyl denie but that weepyng is in vayne, for that whiche cannot be recouered. And veryly, yf any thyng myght be tearmed wretched beſyde the vyce of the mynde, yf there be any thyng in all the worlde to be wept for, it ought rather be lamented whyle it is commyng at hande, then when it is paſt: whiche that Kyng conceyned ryght well, of whom I ſpake not long before.
Sorowe.
I am grieued for the death of my good brother.
Reaſon.
There is no affection more tender then a fathers, and therefore that whiche is ſayde of the death of a ſonne, applie it thou to the death of thy brother, and that whiche may be ſayde of them both, is proficable in the death of a mans friende, whiche loſſe although it be matcht with the greateſt, it muſte be abydden, as of al other thynges: for all ſuche thynges as appeare vnto vs grieuous, are to be ſuffered by one and lyke courage of mynde, although a man woulde thynke that they woulde quite oppreſſe hym.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt a moſte louyng brother.
Reaſon.
It had been woorſe yf thou hadſt loſte a moſt hatefull brother: For the loue of the one, and the remembraunce of the other, is very pleaſant.
Sorowe.
I haue loſte a companion moſt pleaſaunt vnto me euen from his tender youth, I am nowe left aloue.
Reaſon.
He is not a lone with whom vertue and honeſtie doo remayne, betweene whiche twayne death hath not forbydden the Image of thy brother to be faſtened harde vnto thy hart-ſtringes: ſo neyther thy brother is loſt, nor thou alone.
Of the death of a freende. The .Lij. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Haue loſt a freende.
Reaſon.
If thou haſt loued vertue in thy freende as thou oughteſt, truely ſhe is not loſte nor dead: and therefore it is ſayde, that true freend ſhyppe is immortal, for that it is neuer broken, eyther by the fallyng
out of freendes, or els by death it ſelfe: and thus vertue ouercommeth diſcorde and all vyce, but ſhe her ſelfe is neuer ouercome by any thyng.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt a freende.
Reaſon.
All other thinges when thou haſt loſt them, thou haſt them not, but when thou thynkeſt thou haſt loſt thy freendes and thy beſt beloued, then haſt thou them moſt aſſuredly: For thynges whiche are preſent be delicate, I wyll not ſay weeryſome, yea and many tymes arrogant, and offended with very ſmall trifles, but the remembrance of freendes is pleaſant and ſweete, hauyng in it nothyng that is bytter or contrary to delyght.
Sorow.
I haue loſt a very good freende by death.
Reaſon.
If thou complayne of the loſſe of commodities, thou makeſt accounte of profite, and not of freendſhyp. If thou complayne of thy dayly conuerſation with hym, remember howe ſhort tyme freendes remayne togeather, and howe muche tyme we ſpende in cares, howe muche in ſyckeneſſe, howe muche in ſleepe and pleaſure, howe muche is ſpent in entercourſe with ſtraungers; how many heapes of cares: Finally, what buſineſſe, what ſtudies, what leaſure, and what troubles ſometymes of another mans, and ſometymes of a mans owne, and alſo the continuall and inuincible neceſſitie of manyfolde matters, from whiche no proſperitie is exempt, doo withdrawe ſome thyng from our deſired conuerſation: how many ſeldome meetynges, howe ſhort and carefull abydynges, howe ſorowfull departynges, howe late returnynges, what ſtayes, what impedimentes, what deceiptes? With this and ſuche lyke difficulties of lyfe, & fetters of freendſhyp, whiche may eaſily be brought into a mans remembrance, thou mayſt vnderſtande howe great a matter it is whiche death hath taken from thee. For if thou may this alone in freendſhyp, which is the only perpetuall and ſtable foundation thereof, truely death could there take nothing away. Thou haſt hearde in Marcus Tullie, of Lelius comforting him ſelfe, howe his freende Scipio lyueth yet to him, how freſh he is in his minde, & that neyther ye fame nor the vertue of his freend any time dieth. What forbiddeth, but that thy freend Scipio liueth now vnto thee? But you, becauſe ye cannot be Scipioes or Lelies, ye be not men neyther, & for that ye cannot atteyne to ye higheſt, ye diſpaire of the meane,
or contemne it, as though as in Poetrie, ſo in vertue, neither men nor the gods could aſpire vnto a mediocritie.
Sorowe.
Death hath taken away my friende from me.
Reaſon.
Death is able to take away thy friendes body, but as for friendſhyp and friend he is not able: For they are of the kynde of thinges that are not ſubiect to death nor fortune, but to vertue, the whiche among humane thynges is free only, & is able to geue freedome vnto whatſoeuer is ſubiect vnto her: and as for a friende, he ſhould not be of ſo great price yf he coulde be ſo eaſily loſt.
Sorowe.
I haue remayned without a friende.
Reaſon.
If thou do ryghtly honour friendſhyp, thou ſhalt neuer lacke olde friendes, nor be deſtitute of newe, yea ſuche is the opinion hereof, that it wyl purchaſe thee friendes of thyne enimies. There was nothyng that more recōciled Auguſtus the Emperour vnto Herode, then for that he profeſſed that he was moſte friendly affected vnto Auguſtus enimie, and that by meanes of hym he hated Auguſtus moſt extreamely, for whiche cauſe Auguſtus iudged hym woorthy of his friendſhyp, who with ſo great truſtineſſe had honoured the friendſhyp of his enimie: ſo great is the beautie of vertue and friendſhyp, that we are delighted therwith euen in our enimies, and enforceth a man to loue hym of whom he knoweth hymſelfe to be hated.
Sorowe.
My moſt faythfull friende is dead.
Reaſon.
Thou muſte bury hym in thy remembraunce, where he may ſecretely remayne with thee, and neuer dye altogeather: Whom yf thou haſt loſt by any other meanes then by death, then haſt thou not loſt a friende, but a falſe opinion of friendſhyp.
Of the abſence of friendes. The .Liij. Dialogue
SOROWE.
I Am greeued for the abſence of my friendes.
Reaſon.
It hapneth ſo many tymes: but he that hath learned to take indifferently the death of his friende, may ſomewhat more moderately beare his abſence, neither can the abſence of a friende ouerthrow him, whom the death of a friende could not ouerthrowe.
Sorowe.
My moſt deare friend is abſent, my right hand, and my
right eye.
Reaſon.
Though he were ſo abſent that he woulde neuer returne, yet woulde I ſay that there is nothing but a man ought to take it indifferently: but he wyl come a gayne, and thyne integritie ſhalbe reſtored vnto thee.
Sorowe.
My frende is abſent, the one moitie of my ſelfe.
Reaſon.
Horace the poet tearmeth Virgil the one halfe of his ſoule,
whiche phrayſe beyng afterward vſed of many, is nowe growen into a prouerbe. But if a freend be not naturally only, but ciuilly alſo had in poſſeſſion, wherein doth abſence hurte frendſhyp, but that whereſoeuer thou be, he may ſit, walke, talke, and confer with thee in pleaſant and ſerious matters? For if ye ſawe nothing elſe but what lyeth before your eyes, and only the thinges that are preſent delited you, then ſhould your ſight be very ſhort and narrowe.
Sorow.
I am ſorie for the abſence of my ſweete freende.
Reaſon.
But you vſe rather to be ſorie for the abſence of beloued, then ſweete thinges. Hearken now vnto that which wil ſcarce enter in the common peoples eares. It is a ſtrange caſe, howe tickliſh and loathſome ſomtime is the preſence yea of mens deareſt freendes: manie times men are offended at a ſmal matter, and thoſe whom they loue berie wel, or whoſe preſence they earneſtly deſire, not only their friendes, but alſo their brethren or children, for that perhapes they are ſome hindrance vnto their ſtudies and buſineſſe, they had rather ſometime that they were abſent. In their abſence there is nothing bitter, nothing that greeueth our deſire, but that they are away, whiche notwithſtandyng thou canſt not deny to be pleaſant.
Sorowe.
The abſence of my belooued frende greeueth me.
Reaſon.
This is a common thing, I confeſſe, among women & ſuche as loue after a womaniſh maner, whoſe whole delite conſiſteth in the ſenſes. Notwithſtandyng, of theſe the poet ſpake where he ſaith, He that is abſent, heareth and ſeeth another that is abſent. Which if it be ſo, why ſhould not alſo a freende ſee and heare his freende that is abſent, vnleſſe peraduenture your eyes be more bright and cleare to beholde the viſions of laſciuiouſneſſe then of vertue, or els there is more honoure to be aſcribed vnto mad then chaſt loue, which beſides honeſt and quicke thoughtes, which no diſtance of place, nor neceſſitie of force can reſtrayne to wander, and be conuerſant where ſoeuer it pleaſeth them, there is a prouiſion made by the
benefite of ſendyng letters, then whiche I knowe not whether there be any preſence more acceptable. Marcus Cicero was in Rome, whyles wryting vnto his brother. Quintus Cicero who as deputie gouerned the countrey of Aſia, when I reade thy letters, ſayth be, me thinkes I heare thee ſpeake, and when I wryte vnto thee, me thinkes, I talke with thee.
And anon exhortyng hym vnto the excellencie of glory, he ſayth, that he hath founde it very effectuous, in al his woorkes and deedes to imagine vnto hymſelfe that his brother was preſent with hym. I cannot tel whether he were at Athens, or in ſome other place where Epicurus was preſent, whyles wryting vnto his freende, So behaue thy ſelfe in al matters, ſayth he, as if Epicurus hym ſelfe beheld thee. Truely Anneus Seneca was in Campania, whiles by his letters communing with his freend that ſoiourned in Sicilia, he exhorteth him to ſtudie, to dyne, and walke with him, which he coulde not do but in minde only, and thervnto wanted neyther the aſſiſtance of the eyes, nor of the eares, nor of the handes, nor of the feete.
Sorowe.
Myne eyes do greedily requyre myne abſent freende:
Reaſon.
I cannot deny, but that by abſence there is ſome delite taken from the eies, but nothing from the minde, neyther from the eyes in a manner, as I ſayde before, yf it be true freendſhyp. From hence it commeth, that in the ſame Poet we reade & commende this ſaying, Pallas, Enander, they al ſtande before his eyes.
And Cicero hym ſelfe alſo in a certayne epiſtle, ſayth, that he beareth not onely in his minde his freend Balbus, who ſerued vnder Caeſar in Fraunce, but alſo in his eyes.
Sorowe.
My freende is abſent.
Reaſon.
Sometyme a freende is not knowen, vnleſſe he be abſent. As in al other thinges, ſo lykewyſe in freendſhyp, great plentie dulleth the ſenſe, and ſcarcitie ſharpneth it. And yf the ſchoolemaiſter of loue ſayth, that intermiſſion of loue is profitable vnto louers, whoſe vniuerſal pleaſures conſiſt in preſence, why ſhould not the ſame alſo be auaile able vnto freendes, whoſe whole delite is repoſed in vertue, and feeleth no diſcommoditie in abſence, ſince it is preſent in euery place? Do not therefore geue ouer vnto deſire, but embrace thy freend in thy remembrance, whom neither departure nor death it ſelfe can take from thee.
Sorowe.
I ſuffer greeuouſly the abſence of my ſweete freende.
Reaſon.
Suffer it onely, and confirme the ſofter partes of thy minde with preſent vertue. For this bitter abſence, whiche thou nowe bewayleſt, perhappes in time ſhal make thy freende more deare vnto thee, and his preſence more acceptable.
Of greeuous ſhypwracke. The liiii. Dialogue.
SOROW.
I Haue been toſſed in a greeuous ſhypwracke.
Reaſon.
Thou telleſt me of the ſhypwracke on the ſea, but as for the wracke of the minde thou ſpeakeſt nothing of it, as though there were any more greeuous, or common. There is the tempeſt of deſires and affections, as if it were of contrarie bluſteryng windes, which when the ſayles of your concupiſcences and hope are hoiſed and ſpread, bearing away the helme of the minde, and leeſing the ankers of conſtancie in the deepe ſea, driueth you about vnto al coaſtes, and ouer al ſeas: that wracke it was that draue thee into this. Take away deſire, and thou ſhalt take away this ſayling for the moſt part, or at leaſtwiſe the danger therof: the ſame driueth men not only into ſhips, but miſerably vpon rockes, and death it ſelfe. And therfore, for the moſt part al that by their owne ſeking periſh in the ſea, haue firſt periſhed in the minde, and were firſt ouerwhelmed by the waues of couetouſnes, before that they were drenched in the ſurgies of the ſea. For deſire commeth ſeldome without headlong haſtineſſe, and that which it wil haue, it wil haue it preſently, al tariance and the companions therof coſtlineſſe it hateth, the ſame is the redie way vnto deſtruction, and the firſt cauſe of often ſhypwracke.
Sorowe.
I am diſcomforted by a great ſhypwracke.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt learned to pray vnto God, to make vowes, and promiſe many thynges, of whiche although feare was the cauſe, yet ſince thou art arryued agayne on the lande, acknowledge thou that fayth was the cauſe: God is not mocked ſkot free, he hateth the breakers of their faithful promiſes.
Sorowe.
I haue ſuffered a foule ſhypwracke.
Reaſon.
None complayne of ſhypwracke, but they that haue eſcaped it. Reioyce therefore that thou art ſafe, and more expert. The remembrance of
dangers paſt, is commonly delectable, as contrariwyſe the memory of forepaſſed proſperitie is greeuous. But howe muche wouldſt thou haue eſteemed in foretymes to haue ſeene the Triton goddes of the ſea, and the mountaines of water foming, & the waues vp to heauen ſwelling, & the monſters of the ſea ſwimming? Thou haſt now ſome feareful tales to tel in the winter nightes by the fire ſide, to make folke a fearde withall, and to holde thyne amazed family in admiration. Nowe therefore thou knoweſt what is a poetical tempeſt, and that feare whiche thou wouldeſt ſcarce beleeue, is certaynely knowen vnto thee, whiche thou haſt now wel gained, eyther by the feare of death, or loſſe of goodes.
Sorow.
I haue been in a dangerous ſhypwracke.
Reaſon.
There is nothyng learned without trauayle, this if thou be wyſe, ſhalbe a perpetual leſſon vnto thee, that heareafter thou neuer perſwade thy ſelfe to commit thy lyfe vnto the windes.
Sorowe.
I haue ſuffered a woful ſhypwracke.
Reaſon.
If this be the firſt, take heede thou fal not into the ſeconde: if it be the ſecond, then holde thy peace. For proper is the ſaying of Publius the wryter of ſcoffes: He wickedly accuſeth Neptune, that committeth ſhipwracke the ſeconde tyme.
Sorow.
I haue ſcarſe eſcaped in a terrible ſhypwracke.
Reaſon.
I can not ſee why it ſhoulde be more terrible to dye in the ſea, then vpon the lande, ſeeing men muſt needes dye vpon the one of them, or why it were better to feede wormes, then to be baite for fyſhes: but foraſmuche as thou haſt eſcaped, beware that thou commit not agayne thy lyfe to a broken oare, or a rotten boorde. Since thou art an earthly creature, learne to keepe the earth, and rather to affect heauen then the ſea.
Of Burnyng. The .lv. Dialogue.
SOROW.
I Haue ſcarce eſcaped out of a burning fire.
Reaſon.
Doeſt thou then drawe it vnto the iniurie of fortune, that thou haſt eſcaped? Let Alcibiades be moued, who could not eſcape out of ye hot burning of his enimies: howbeit although thou haue preuented
the earthly, yet who is able to gaineſtād the burninges that come from heauen? Let the Romane kyng Tullus Hoſtilius, and the Romane Emprour Charus, anſweare me, whereof the one was conſumed with fyre from heauen in the pallace at Rome, and the other in his tentes neare vnto the ryuer Tigris, if we may credite common hiſtories.
Sorowe.
Hauing loſt al my goodes, I haue eſcaped naked out of the fyre.
Reaſon.
Whom I pray thee, would eyther Kias, as al men ſay, or Stilbon, as Seneca wyl haue it, haue ſpoken ſuche a woorde? who when his countrey was on fyre, being demaunded, or rather reprooued, for that he conueighed none of his goods out of ye flame, as other of his neighbours did, anſweared in this manner? Al my goodes, ſayd he, I carrie with me. Woorthily, truely, whether it were the one or both of them that ſpake it: although ſuche kinde of ſpeeches do alwayes ſound moſt excellently out of the mouth of the firſt aucthour of them: but omitting the aucthour, the trueth of the ſaying is commonly perceiued. For the true goodes in deede remayne within, and cannot be taken from the owner whyle he lyueth, neyther when he is dead. For they cleaue faſt to the ſoule, whyther as neyther the ryght hand of fortune, nor of death is able to reache. Thou being ſafe and ſounde, lamenteſt that thou haſt loſt certayne thynges, whiche if they had been thine in deede, out of doubt they had been ſafe with thee this day. For beleeue me, true goods doo not peryſhe. Golde is not more precious then vertue, nor ſo good as it, although it be not conſumed, but purged by the fyre.
Sorowe.
A great fire hath blaſted me.
Reaſon.
There was one Caeculus, I knowe not who, that ſought the fame of diuinitie by fyre. In Virgil, a flame of fire taking hold of Iulus haire, gaue the firſt hope to their doubtful health. And for that Seruius head burned light with fire, it was no poetical, but an hiſtorical abodyng of a kingdome. It is wel knowen that the founders of the Empire of Rome, eſcaped out of the flame of Troy. To be ſhort, the ſcriptures declare that Helias dyed by fyre, and that the Lorde hym ſelfe appeared in a flame of fyre: ſo that it is not for nought that bonefires are a token of myrth and reioycing in your cities, whiche now is a cauſe of thy heauineſſe.
Sorowe.
My houſe is ſuddenly conſumed with fyre.
Reaſon.
Yea, the temple of
Diana at Epheſus was in olde tyme ſet on fyre, a goodlier peece of woorke then whiche, that age neuer ſawe. And alſo the temple of Hieruſalem, that was dedicated vnto the lorde of heauen, was burnt, the verie enemies pitiyng it that ſet it on fire: & likewiſe in this our age the laterane caſtel, for beautie the flowre of the world, was twice conſumed with fire, an euident & plaine token of Gods wrath, in my iudgment: no ſtrange matter I confeſſe, but terryble. And laſt of al, to ſay nothing of litle cities, fire hath often touched Saguntum, and Numantia, and Corinth, and other innumerable, yea and Rome it ſelfe was brought almoſt vnto vtter deſtruction: And Carthage once, and Troy was twice deſtroyed with fire. Cities haue been burned, and we beleeue that the whole worlde ſhalbe one day brought to nought by fire. And doeſt thou then complaine that it dare take hold on thy houſe, that ſhal conſume both heauen and earth?
Sorowe.
I had much a doo to eſcape out of the fyre.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt eſcaped then, and art thou ſorie for it? vnleſſe thou haddeſt eſcaped, thou haddeſt helde thy peace, but now being a lyue and aſhes, thou lamenteſt that aſhes is extinguiſhed.
Of great laboure and traueyle. The .lvi Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Am weeried with great labour.
Reaſon.
There is no glorie without difficultie. Al vertue dwelleth on hygh, not eaſily to be atteyned, the paſſage thereunto is cragged, rough, and ful of ſtones.
Sorowe.
I am ouerweerie with traueyle.
Reaſon.
Traueyle is the ground of vertue, and reſt of pleaſures: there is nothing commendable, nothing excellent, without traueyle: and therefore laboure was the foundation of Hercules prayſe. By nothing is Vliſses better knowen then by traueyle: howe wyſe ſoeuer he be feigned, if his wyſedome had been idle, it had been vnknowen. Laboure aduaunced the Romane captaynes, the Scipioes and Camillus, laboure the Fabi
•
and Curij, laboure Fabricius and the Metelli, labour alſo Pompeius the great, laboure Hannibal, and labour alſo aduaunced
Iulius Caeſar vnto honoure: Labour made the Catoes and Marius famous, & painful warfare ennobled Papyrius Curſor, and Poſſennius niger. To omit philoſophers & Poetes, whoſe whole life what is it other then a famous and pleaſant traueile? what ſhal I ſay of artificers, whoſe glorie what ſoeuer it is, by what traueile they get it thou knoweſt, with what diligence, as watching late, and riſing early, they gaine it: of which matter we reade how that Demoſthenes was woont to complaine, which truely may be no ſmal prouocation vnto them that deale in great matters, ſince that ſmal thinges do ſo ſtirre vp and ſharpen the minde. And therfore peruſe ouer al ſortes of men, and whereas there is much fame, there is alſo plentie of trauayle, and alwayes labour is beloued of the louers of vertue, without whiche they cannot atteyne vnto glory, whiche they loue and ſeeke after.
Sorowe.
I am continually exerciſed in labour.
Reaſon.
Great labour auaileth not, vnleſſe it be continuall: for why? the glory that is wonne by labour, vnleſſe it be continuall, wyl not ſeeme great.
Sorow.
I am vexed with to continuall labour.
Reaſon.
To muche and to litle are taken in reſpect of the ſufferers: vnto a ſlouthfull perſon al labour is to muche, but none to muche to the induſtrius.
Sorowe.
Many labours greeue me.
Reaſon.
They ſhoulde not greeue thee, yf thou were a man, but rather ſharpen and quicken thee. Wouldeſt thou know what difference there is betweene laboure and pleaſure? compare then Sardanapalus with Hercules, Sergius Orata with Attilius Regulus, Apicius with Caius Marius.
Sorow.
Continual labour maketh me leane.
Reaſon.
Labour in that reſpect hath been a remedie vnto many, & hath cleared and abated thoſe whom reſt had infected & deformed: for it is euident that laboure cureth the mynde, withſtandeth the ſprynging of vices, and plucketh then vp by the rootes. To be ſhort, among the cauſes of the excellencie of auncient vertue and proweſſe to fore in elder tymes, are reckoned by wryters on the one ſyde labour, and on the other pouertie: and thoſe troubles of the body are to be wyſhed, whiche cure the troubles of the mynde.
Sorowe.
My labour is payneful.
Reaſon.
Vertue and labour are payneful,
pleaſure and idleneſſe eaſie: thinges that are lyke remayne wel together, but betweene contraries there is diſagreement.
Sorowe.
My chaunce is to paynefull.
Reaſon.
Thou takeſt thy trauayle in toyl a part. Knoweſt thou not that whiles the godly in times paſt haue ryſen out of their beddes at midnight, in the cold, watchyng and occupiyng them ſelues in prayer vnto almightie God, the whoremongers in the meane whyle, haue accompliſhed their filthy pleaſures? And likewyſe whyle the ſouldier keepeth watch and warde in the campe for the defence of his countrey, and the captayne in his tent for the enlarging of the boundes thereof, and the ſtudent among his bookes, for the beautifiyng of the ſame, the infamous baude taketh his reſt in his lodging among the thickeſt of his graceleſſe trulles: but whiche of theſe are in beſt caſe, there is none that hath in hym any ſparke of honeſtie; that wyl make any doubt ſoone to define.
Sorowe.
I am vrged with very paineful labour.
Reaſon.
Be of good cheare, if ſo be the cauſe only of thy laboure be honeſt, thy labour is honeſt alſo, by meanes whereof thou ſhalt be reckoned among famous men. All that endeuour to riſe vnto glory, muſt paſſe through a paynefull and narowe path, but to diſhonour, the way is downe hil, and eaſie to be traueiled. To be ſhort, whoſoeuer is borne, is borne to labour and trauayle, neyther do I except herein the ſonnes of kinges. Labour and vertue are your artes, not idleneſſe and pleaſure, vnto whiche who ſo apply them ſelues, do degenerate from the nature of men, and tranſfourme themſelues into beaſtes
Sorow.
I am worne with grieuous labour.
Reaſon.
That labour which is grieuous vnto them that yeeld vnto it, is eaſie vnto them that endeuour earneſtly againſt it. Only endure it with a valient minde, and ariſe agaynſt it, and compare the ende with the preſent paine. Labour hath aduaunced manie, and induſtrie manie, but neuer anie became glorious through ſlouthfulnes.
Of a painful iourney. The lvii. Dialogue.
SOROW.
I Goe a payneful iourney on my feete.
Reaſon.
Haddeſt thou rather then goe vpon the feete of another? But ye wyl not
woorke with the handes, nor ſee with the eyes, nor heare with the eares, nor taſte with the mouth, nor ſmell with the noſe of another: What ſpeciall matter is this then, that only you take a pleaſure to goe with the feete of another?
Sorowe.
I goe on foote.
Reaſon.
Cameſt thou on horſ backe into the worlde, or thynkeſt thou ſo to depart? Why then ſhoulde it grieue thee ſo to continue in the worlde? But needes thou muſt ryde a cockhorſe? O howe ſimple was thy beginning, and howe poore wylbe thy ende, and howe proude are the tymes that are betweene, and in ſo ſhort a courſe howe great forgetfulneſſe of both extremities? neyther doo you remember from whence you come, nor whyther you ſhall.
Sorowe.
I am conſtrayned to goe a great iourney on foote.
Reaſon.
To be conſtrayned, I confeſſe, is an harde caſe, but he that is wyllyng, cannot be conſtrayned: diſdayne and repynyng encreaſe the weight of neceſſitie, by pacience and agreeableneſſe of mynde, the ſharpeneſſe of fortunes dart is rebated. Wylt thou not be conſtrayned? then doo that wyllyngly whiche thou art compelled to do. Wouldeſt thou haue thy long iourney made ſhorter? then goe with a good wyll.
Sorowe.
I woulde wyllyngly ryde, but I goe on foote.
Reaſon.
Is it not a great madneſſe for one fourefooted beaſtes ſake, the vſe whereof thou knoweſt not howe long fortune wyll lende thee, to forget the benefite of nature? As many haue doone and ſtyll doo, who vpon the confidence which they haue in a vile, and vnrulie, and tranſitorie horſe, forget to goe on their owne feete: vnto theſe ſortes of men what might one wiſh better then the riche gout, that is to ſay, vnprofitable feete, and many horſes?
Sorow.
I wil go a great iourney on foote.
Reaſon.
Thou ſhalt goe at thy pleaſure, none ſhal carie thee beyonde thy prefixed place, none ſhal ſtay thee, none ſhal trouble thee, none ſhall ſhake thee, none ſhall throwe thee downe, or ioſtle thee, thou haſt but one labour vpon the way, thy paine is only to go, thou haſt no buſineſſe nor trouble with thy bearer. Thou ſhalt not be conſtrayned to bridle and rayne thy horſe, to ſpur and beate him, to water and litter him, to walke and rub him, to feede him, to curry him, to anoynt his ſore backe, or to feele his drie hoofes, or handle with thy fingers the dangerous nayles, or with
ſtaues to depart their nightly conflictes, and to awake them out of their ſleepe, and alwayes to be carefull and circumſpect howe theſe licentious cattayle vſe them ſelues towardes their neyghbours, at leaſtwyſe thou ſhalt take thy reſt in the night ſeaſon, for they that ryde, do trauayle, and are troubled alſo in the night.
Sorowe.
I go a long iourney on foote.
Reaſon.
Perhaps in ſhoes. For the holie fathers walked about the wilderneſſe vpon their bare feete. The apoſtles, which were the meſſengers of Almightie God, walked throughout al partes of the worlde, one into the Eaſt, another into the Weaſt, another into the North, & another into the South, ſomtime they went by water, & that but ſeldome, only when as the ſituation of the place was ſuch as they coulde not otherwiſe chooſe: but which of them, I pray thee, haſt thou hearde to haue ridden on horſebacke, except S. Iohn only? Neither rode he euer more then once, and that but a litle way, which was as Clemens writeth, & the Eccleſiaſtical hiſtorie maketh mention, when as he was ſtirred foorth with a godly haſt, to recouer the ſoule of a loſt & deſperat young man. And how ſhould they ryde, whoſe Lorde and Maiſter went on foote? He ſcarſe rode once hym ſelf vpon a poore Aſſe, which was not long before he was hanged vpon the croſſe. But if theſe examples doo ouerburden thee with incomparable holyneſſe, yet is it knowne well yenough that the Romane armies, which vanquiſhed the whole world, were for the moſt part of them footemen, who not only carried their armour and weapon on foote, but alſo as muche victual as ſhould ſerue them many dayes, moreouer a kinde of munition, whereby, when once they were entred within their enimies boundes, they defended their campe in the day times, and theyr tentes in the nyght, agaynſt the inuaſion of their enemies: whervpon our cuntreiman Cicero, in a certein place excellently diſputing of the Romane ſouldiers, when he had ſayd that vnto valiant men of other nations theyr armour was no impediment, but in the maner of a garment, yet this commendation he gaue them aboue al other, ſaying, that vnto the Romane ſouldiers only their armour & weapons were not a garment, but ſtood them in ſteede of their armes & ſhoulders. And when they had once put on thoſe warlike burdens whereof I ſpake, then they thought them ſelues
in deede to be apparrelled. And leaſt haply any man be deceiued by the common cuſtome of ſpeache, let it be knowne vnto them, that by the name of ſouldiours or ſeruitours, footemen are only ſignified, and that in many places of the Romane hiſtorie it may be geathered, that by this name they are diſtinguiſhed from horſe men, although they doo both ſortes of them ſerue in the warres. Wherefore, the remembrance of theyr labour and trauayle may breede thee no ſmall eaſe & comfort, not only being vnarmed, and light, and trauayling on an hard, though a ſafe iourney, but alſo yf thou were armed and heauily laden, and faryng on foote in a dangerous path. For there is nothing more effectuall vnto the beareyng of aduerſitie, then to thinke that many haue borne the ſame with valiant myndes. And a loftie minde wylbe aſhamed that he only cannot doo that which in numerable coulde doo before hym. Whiche thought hath not only been profitable in labours of difficultie, but alſo in thoſe paynes and tormentes of the body whiche ſeeme to be moſt miſerable, & ſpecially in death it ſelfe.
Sorowe.
A long & payneful iourney do I ſorowfully paſſe foorth on foote.
Reaſon.
There is nothing that ſo much eaſeth a painful iourney, and comforteth an heauie minde, as noble and ſweete cares, which cannot harbour within the hart, and keepe company al the way long, vnleſſe it be with ſome good and learned man. Herevnto if by chaunce there happen the pleaſaunt ſocietie of ſome meery and eloquent companion, the iourney ſhall not only ſeeme light, but ſhort alſo. Many haue been ſo delighted with pleaſaunt communication vpon the way, that they haue felt no tediouſneſſe at al of the trauaile, and although the iourney were long indeede, yet haue they complayned of the ſhortnes therof, ſuppoſing them ſelues not to haue gone, but rather to haue been carried. This is alſo common among the wr
•
tie ſayinges of Publius. A pleaſant companion vpon the way, is as good as a Wagon.
Of one yeeres barrenneſſe. The .Lviij. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Am oppreſſed with the barrenneſſe of one yeere.
Reaſon.
Plentie then will be the better welcome vnto thee: euery thing is beſt knowne by comparyng it with the contrary.
Sorowe.
My lande hath deceyued myne expectation.
Reaſon.
It is not thy lande that hath deceyued thee, but thy wyckedneſſe and greedineſſe of mynde: you promyſe your ſelues euery thyng to fall out as you would haue them, lyke proude fooles, beyng worthie in your owne opinion that nature her ſelfe ſhoulde be at your commaundement. Who yf ſhe dare receyue her ryght, and fayle once to ſatiſfie the deepe and bottomeleſſe whyrlpoole of your couetous mynds, which nothyng is able to fyl, then ſeemeth ſhe vnto you ſtraunge, and couetous, & iniurious. This is no righteous nor modeſt hope, but the imaginations of an immoderate deſire: yee feigne that thoſe thynges ſhall come to paſſe whiche you woulde haue, and if you myſſe ought thereof, you call it a loſſe: thy lande keepeth it olde cuſtome, and thou thyne. For the barrenneſſe and fruitefulnes of the earth come by courſe, but your couetouſneſſe is continual: You, beyng moſt partiall interpretours of all thynges, when as you ought to take the firſt thankefully and ſoberly, and the ſeconde patiently and valiantly, the one you contemne, the other you bewayle, the one maketh you proude, the other playntyffe.
Sorowe.
My lande whiche promiſed me better ſucceſſe, hath deceiued me.
Reaſon.
You weery the earth with your oxen and plowes, and heauen with your vowes and prayers. The blowing of the wyndes, the oportunitie of ſhewres, the comelineſſe of the ſpringyng trees, the beautie of the fieldes, the Wynters duſt, the Springs durt, the Sommer Sun, the rypeneſſe of harueſt, all theſe do drawe your couetous mindes into hope. And lyke as euery flambe ſetteth on fyre the drie ſtubble, and euery wynde bloweth abrode the looſe duſt: euen ſo euery gaine engendreth hope to the couetous minde, and the leaſt loſſe, not of ſubſtance only, but alſo of hope, quite confoundeth him. But O you wretches, moderate your vnſeemely motions, reſtraine your vnmeaſurable couetouſneſſe, and chaſten your crebulus hope, which hath ben fruſtrated by a thouſand ſucceſſes: to what end do you looke vpon heauen and earth? Plentifulneſſe commeth from God only. O ye mortal men, ſuffer him to worke his pleaſure, & behold you what is done, & praiſe it. Let the workeman woorke, & denye not vnto God that reuerence which ought to be geuen to a man that is ſkilful in any ſcience. Let veſſelles of
earth be aſhamed to controule the heauenly potter, but in voyce and mynde geue thanks vnto hym for al thing, who being priuie of your neceſſities, and not ignorant of your deſires, relieueth the one, and fruſtrateth the other: in both he is mercyful, and terrible in counſell ouer the ſonnes of men, inſomuche as it is written of hym, Put your truſt nowe at length, not in your fieldes, but in the Lorde, woorke righteouſneſſe, and inhabite the earth, and feede on his riches, and take pleaſure in the Lorde, and he ſhall graunt you your hartes deſire: whiche, when you haue once begunne to take delyght in hym, cannot be couetous nor vniuſt. Lay foorth your wayes before him, and truſt in hym, and he wyl bryng it to paſse. Caſt your cares vpon the Lorde, and he wyll nooriſhe you. Why doo you thynke vpon & loue nothyng but the earth. O ye that were faſhioned by the hande of God? Doo not contemne theſe ſacred ſpeaches as you were woont to do, pray not for rayne, or ſhyning, or any other weather agreable to your appetite, put not your confidence in the earth, but only in hym that beholdeth the earth, and maketh it to tremble, who draweth the moyſt ſtreames out of the hardeſt rockes, who, to be briefe, hath ſuffered thee to be deceiued by the fielde, to the end thou ſhouldeſt put thy truſt in him that neuer deceiueth.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt much of my accuſtomed plenty.
Reaſon.
That is only withholden, which eyther ye yeres goyng before dyd geue ouermuche, or the yeeres folowyng ſhal geue hereafter. A litle moderation is ſufficient. Couetouſneſſe encreaſeth by gayne, and the more it hath, the poorer it is. Plentie is a great mother, a great nurſe and fauourer of vices: Suffer ſomewhat to be diminiſhed from thy euils, the leſſe plenty thou haſt, the leſſe ſhalbe thy pryde, & the leſſe thy licentiouſneſſe. Adde herevnto moreouer, that this the default of thy land would be counted beneficial & plentie among ſome, and thou thy ſelf, if thou were accuſtomed vnto ſcarcitie, wouldeſt iudge this to be plentie: ſo great a ſway doth cuſtome alwayes beare in diſcerning matters, and hath ſo great a force. What maruayle then is it now, if they contemne moderate things, which are accuſtomed vnto ſuperfluous? then which there is no ſtorme greater to the ouerthrowe of modeſtie.
Sorowe.
I am greeued with vnaccuſtomed barrenneſſe.
Reaſon.
Often tymes the plague of barrenneſſe
bryngeth foorth the more valiant men, and the bleſſing of plenty more effeminate, and not only bringeth them foorth, but maketh them ſuche, and hardeneth or ſofteneth them that are borne els where. Thus dyd Aſia firſt mollifie the French men immediately after the Romanes, and Babilon vanquyſhed Alexander, and Capuariannes hardened the nature of the Romanes, and ſharpned it as it had been a Whetſtone. Since plentie then hath ſoftened thee, let ſcarcitie harden thee: Let thy lande teache thee ſobrietie, and let thy barren grounde perſwade thee vnto that, whereunto thy plentifull bookes cannot. There is no man that ought to be deſpiſed that profeſſeth hym ſelfe a teacher of profitable doctrine. Learne to lyue well: Learne, I ſay, though thou be olde, though thou be vnwyllyng, yea though thou diſdayne at it.
Of an euyll and proude Bayliffe. The .Lix. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Suffer a proude Bailiffe.
Reaſon.
If he be proude onely, and not a theefe alſo, it is wel with thee.
Sorowe.
I haue an euil Bayliffe.
Reaſon.
Beare him indifferently, for vnleſſe he be very euyl, he is a good Baylyffe.
Sorowe.
I am grieued at my rude Bailiffe.
Reaſon.
Thou wouldeſt be more grieued at hym, yf he were ſoft and delicate: Roughneſſe and rudeneſſe are termes proper for Clownes, for they toyle with the rough oxen, with rough plowes and harrowes, with rough ſpades and rakes, and laſtly with the rough earth it ſelf, and what then ſhoulde they be other then rude and rough them ſelues? If he haue no other faulte but that he is rude, he is Bailiffe good yenough.
Sorowe.
I cannot abyde an importunate Clowne.
Reaſon.
But thou muſt eyther abyde thy Bayliffe, or els be Bayliffe thy ſelfe, and determine to goe dwel in the rude countrey where all thynges are hard and rough.
Sorowe.
I haue an vnruly huſbandman, and without all ciuilitie.
Reaſon.
None of theſe ought to be vnthought vpon of thee. So ſoone as thou
hadſt lande, thou ſhouldeſt haue forſeene the manyfolde toyles belonging thereto, barkynges, and thy Bayliffes diſdaynefulneſſe. At what tyme thou vauntedſt thy ſelfe of thy fruiteful lande, I tolde thee that huſbandmen were the laſt of all people whom iuſtice departed from, when ſhe forſooke the earth. If euer mankynde ſhoulde be reuiued agayne, I ſuppoſe, that they be the laſte that ſhall fynd her. Thus they be gone before them whom they folowed, and are become of all euyll men, the moſt wicked.
Sorow.
I haue a very ſharpe Bayliffe.
Reaſon.
Where as the trueth him ſelfe ſayde, that the earth ſhould bryng foorth vnto man thornes and bryars, that is to be vnderſtoode of huſbandmen, who are ſharper then any bryars.
Sorowe.
I haue a very wycked Farmer.
Reaſon.
Eyther learne to ſuffer the wyckedneſſe of thy Farmer, or els ſterue for hunger: For to chaunge thy Farmer it ſhal not auayle thee, ſeeyng they be all in a maner of one qualitie, ſauing that alwayes the woorſt commeth laſte.
Sorowe.
My Bayliffe is a Theefe.
Reaſon.
Now thou haſt ſpoken that whiche I looked for all this whyle: For they are ſo adicted to ſtealyng, that the litle whiche they get that way is more ſweete vnto them, then whatſoeuer they gayne by theyr true labour. But this muſt alſo be borne withall, neyther ought one to complaine of that which is common to al men. And truely although the Poet ſet downe, that the Hyndes of the Countrey were laſt of all forſaken of iuſtice, as I haue ſayde twiſe before: Notwithſtandyng it is well knowen, that the firſt man that was begotten amongſt you of the ſeede of man, was both an huſbandman, and a murtherer of his owne brother, that they may ſeeme alwayes to haue been the worſte kynde of people, ouer whom whyles thou thynkeſt, thou needeſt not to maruayle that they be Theeues alſo.
Sorowe.
Through the faulte of my Bayliffe, my Farme is deſtroyed, and vntylled.
Reaſon.
The lyke hapneth euerye day vnto greater perſonagies then thou: and in olde tyme vnto Anaxagoras, and Architas, who were both, I thynke, ſory for it, but neyther of them angrie.
Of Thefte. The .Lx. Dialogue
SOROWE.
THat litle whiche remayneth, I can ſcarſe defende from theeues.
Reaſon.
Thy Bayliffe in the countrey hath taught thee how to take this euyll with pacience, whiche thou muſt ſhew alſo in the cities.
Sorowe.
Theeues doo trouble me.
Reaſon.
Againſt this miſchiefe complaintes doo not auayle, but puniſhmentes are needeful: In the meane while, diligent watchynges dooth good, to hym that is circumſpect. There be ſome that keepe nothing, & accuſe theeues, when as the olde Prouerbe ſayth, that occaſion maketh a theefe.
Sorow.
Theeues do beſiege my entrye.
Reaſon.
Shut to thy doores, locke them faſt, open thyne eyes, and looke about thee, if thou be necligent in ſo dooyng, then blame thy ſelfe. A theefe ſeldome hurteth the circumſpect. They may more iuſtly complayne that haue no houſes, ſuch as are certaine people vnder the South and North poles, & therefore among the Scithians. as thou ſeeſt, it is written, there is no offence more greeuous then theft. And the reaſon is this, that if men there myght robbe freely among the woods, what ſhould remaine to the owner?
Sorowe.
Theeues ſteale my goodes.
Reaſon.
They would haue them be theirs, and thou forbiddeſt not, thynke therfore that thy necligence is puniſhed, and that by this loſſe thou art taught to keepe thine owne: profitable matters are not taught for naught.
Sorowe.
Theeues doo very muche trouble me.
Reaſon.
Truely they are an importunate kynde of men, worthyly hated of all that are vertuous, not only as peſtilent, but alſo as vyle perſons. And knowe this, that it proceedeth of none other then a great baſeneſſe of mynde, that any man is drawen vnto ſo vyle a wickedneſſe. And therefore not without good cauſe Aurelius Alexander, who was a young, but a vertuous Prince, fell ſo much in hatred of theeues, that as Helius Lampridius writeth of hym, if he had ſeene any ſuch, he had his fynger redy to plucke out one of his eyes. Suche was his hatred agaynſt thoſe that were infamous for Theeuery, that yf by chaunce he ſawe any of them, his ſpirite was ſo inuaded agaynſt them, that immediatly
he was prouoked to vomite out choler, his face being ſo enflamed, that he coulde not ſpeake a woord. Truely a notable diſdaine of a valiant mind, and a ſhameful filthineſſe in the theeues. whiche was able ſo ſodenly to moue the ſtomacke of ſo high and excellent a prynce, vnto lothſomneſſe and vomiting. Yea moreouer, when as on a tyme, a certayne noble man being accuſed of theft, at lengh through great fauour of certaine Ringes that were his freendes, had obteyned to be ſent foorth to warfaire, and was immediatly taken with theft agayne (for they that are geuen to that vice, through cuſtome are neuer able to leaue it) Alexander demaunded of the kynges which had preferred hym, what puniſhment there was for theeues in their countreyes? Whereunto when they anſweared, hangyng, he cauſed hym forthwith by theyr iudgment to be hanged.
Sorowe.
I am moleſted with theeues.
Reaſon.
Circumſpection and diligent heede takyng, are good remedies agaynſt theeues, but the beſt of al, is pouertie. As long as a man hath any thing that they do lyke of, he can not wel eſcape their handes, or eyes. Wouldeſt thou be out of the feare of theeues? be poore then.
Of robberies. The .lxi. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Am ſpoyled by theeues.
Reaſon.
Although, as I ſuppoſe, it be written in the ciuile lawe, that there is no theefe woorſe then he that taketh away a thing by force, yet notwithſtanding priuie pilferers be woorſe in my opinion: Theſe theeues do woorke by craft, but thoſe by open violence. And therfore after the opinion of Cicero, theſe are likened to foxes, and thoſe to Lions. And moreouer theſe theeues do ſpoyle men of their goods, but they leaue ſuſpicion behinde them: But to be robbed by good felowes ſuffiſeth in a maner, & they leaue no ſuſpicion behinde thē.
Sorow.
I haue fallen into the hands of theeues who haue left me naked.
Reaſon.
Iulius Caeſar fel into the hands of theeues alſo, by whom he was not onely ſpoyled, but alſo taken priſoner, and ſet at a great raunſome for his delyuerie, euen he that was afterwarde
lorde of al the world: although the reuenge whiche ſhortly folowed, comforted hym muche in this aduerſitie, whiche is no ſmal aſwagement of iniuries. Regulus, that was ſo often a conquerour, fel into the hands of his enimies, who put him to a moſt cruel death, to the great and greeuous loſſe and daunger of your whole Empire. Likewiſe Valerianus the Emperour fel within the daunger of his enimies: who, to the great diſpargement of the whole Empire, conſtreyned hym to leade foorth his olde yeeres in moſt ſilthy and ſhameful ſeruitude. Thou, yf thou be nothyng but robbed, geue thankes to fortune and the theeues that robbed thee, for leauing vnto thee thy lyfe and libertie. For theeues haue no greater benefite, then that which Cicero maketh mention of in his Philippikes, for that they can ſay they haue geuen them their lyues, from whom they haue not taken them. Take thou therefore this thy fortune in good part, which is common vnto theſe notable perſonages, and many other famous men, whiche yf it were compared with theirs, would appeare much more eaſie, and to be wiſhed, and deſire not to be more happie, then they that are called the moſt happie of al men.
Of Cooſinage and deceit. The .lxii. Dialogue.
SOROW.
I Am deceyued by cooſiners.
Reaſon.
Doeſt thou marueyle at it? I ſhoulde rather marueyle if by keeping company with men, thou couldeſt eſcape vnhurt. For what man is he that deceiueth not another? Truſtineſſe is banniſhed, and deceit beareth the ſoueraintie: and is this the firſt tyme that thou haſt conſydered this? Not with ſo great ſtudie do the hunters lay ſuares for wylde beaſtes, nor the foulers ſet ginnes to take byrdes, as craftie cooſyners ſeeke meanes to deceyue the ſimple: Whiche if it were euer true, now is it moſt true in this your age. A man may poynt with the finger vnto maiſters of craft, and he is counted the wyſeſt, that is moſt cunning in deceyuing. Wouldeſt thou therefore not be deceyued? Dye then, or auoyde the companye of men.
Sorow.
I am craftily circumuented, whereas I neuer feared it.
Reaſon.
If thou haddeſt feared
it, perhappes thou haddeſt not been ſo eaſily deceyued: and now think? with thy ſelfe, whether thou alſo euer deceyuedſt any man. For ye be al of you for the moſt part prone to deceyue, and reaſon woulde thou ſhouldeſt take that with more indifferencie at another mans handes, whiche thou thy ſelfe haſt done before to another. But you conſider not what ye do to others, and cannot abide that which others doo vnto you, ſo that in al thynges ye be moſt vniuft iudges.
Sorow.
I haue ſuffered a loſſe through the deceite of my freende.
Reaſon.
Herein, as in many thinges els, thou art abuſed: for in freendſhyp there is no deceit. And in this poynt alſo ye be commonly deceyued, ſuppoſing them to be freendes that are not, and by experiment ye eaſily fynde, that freendſhyp is a moſt ineſtimable & holy thing: ſo ouer curious ye are in trifles, that by once banketting or communing togeather, you get a freende, whom ſo ſoone as you haue gotten, ye looſe hym, yf that may be called loſt whiche you neuer had: And then afterward ye complayne that ye are deceyued by your freendes, and bryng this ſlaunder vpon freendſhyp, that is giltleſſe of any ſuche deede.
Sorow.
I am damnified by deceyte.
Reaſon.
It hath done many good that they haue been deceiued, hereafter thou wylt be the waryer: ſome by the loſſe of a ſmall thyng, haue auoyded the daunger of greater matters.
Sorowe.
A vyle cooſiner hath deceyued me.
Reaſon.
Nay rather he hath awaked thee, and ſharpened thy wyt, and hath taught thee to truſt none but ſuche as thou haſt tryed, and perſons of credite. I woulde recite examples, whereby to comfort thy heauie chaunce, but that they are innumerable. For who lyueth, and is not deceyued? What euer myſcheefe befalleth to man, is not ſo muche as one man ſuffereth by another: And for that it is not poſſible nor needeful to recken al, remember the hiſtorie of Caninius, in what ſort he was once cooſined by Pytius at Siracuſe. Neuertheleſſe Caninius hath wherewith to comfort him ſelfe, for that being a knight of Rome, he was deceiued by a ſtranger that was liuing, when as Auguſtus Caeſar that was Emperour of Rome, was deluded by a meane ritizen that lay a dying. The hiſtory is wel knowen, how that a certayne man called Marius, who through the freendſhip of the ſame
Auguſtus had been aduaunced from the baſe eſtate of a common ſouldier vnto great honour and ryches, was woont commonly to geue foorth in ſpeeche, that he would make him only his heire, and leaue al his goodes vnto hym, by whoſe meanes he had gotten al that he had: whiche thing when as in woordes he had aſſured vnto the Emperour Auguſtus hym ſelfe, the day before he dyed, he gaue vp his deceitful ghoſt, and at the length it was found, howe that in al his wyl he had not once made mention of the Emperours name. Truely he wel deſerued to haue his diſſemblyng carckaſe drawen with an hooke into the ryuer. Tiber, who at his very death was not afeard to deceyue his cheefe lorde and benefactour.
Of a ſtreight and narow dwelling. The .lxiii. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Owel to ſtraightly.
Reaſon.
A narrowe houſe is profitable for many thinges, and amongſt other matters it is good agaynſt theeues, wherof thou complainedſt erewhyle, for that they can fynde no lurkyng corners in it, as the contrary may be verified of large houſes, that they deceyue their owner, and are conuenient for theeues. I take an houſe to be litle or large according to the number of the inhabitantes, and thou ſeemeſt now to thy ſelfe to dwel in to litle an houſe. But how muche more narrowly doth thy ſoule dwel, and howe muche more filchily among blood and matter, and other loathſome ſubſtance? and yet yf thou myghteſt haue thy wyl, thou wouldeſt neuer haue hym depart from thence.
Sorowe.
My houſe is narrowe.
Reaſon.
The houſe of claye doth not pynche the heauenly ſoule with the narrowneſſe thereof: many tymes a lytle houſe hath been capable of great glory, when as in the meane tyme a great houſe hath been repleniſhed with great infamie. The houſe conformeth not the minde, but the minde conformeth the houſe: and therefore as the blinde cottagies of the poore may be merry and vertuous, ſo may the caſtles of princes, and palaces of the ryche, be ſorowful and diſhoneſt. There is no houſe ſo narrow, but the greatneſſe of the tenant maketh it larger, and meete to receyue a great gheſt.
Sorowe.
My houſe is litle.
Reaſon.
Kyng
Enanders litle palace receyued great Hercules: Iulius Caeſar that was afterwarde lorde of al the worlde, was borne in a ſimple tenement: Romulus and Remus, that were the firſt founders of ſo great a citie, were brought vp in a ſhepheards cottage: Cato dwelled in no ſumptuous houſe: Diogenes ſoiourned in a rouling tub: and Hilarion vnder a ſimple ſhead: the holy fathers lead their lyues in caues vnder the ground: and great Philoſophers in litle gardeins: mightie captaynes haue lyen in the open ayre, and vnder poore tentes: but Caius and Nero dwelled in gorgeous pallaces: choſe thee nowe with whiche of theſe thou haddeſt leeueſt dwel.
Sorow.
I haue a narowe, and homely, and euil-fauoured houſe.
Reaſon.
The walles are able to keepe out theeues and the wynde, and the tediouſneſſe of the people, which is woorſe then any of them both, the roofe, colde and heat, ſunneſhyne and rayne: as for the loftie towres, they are dwellinges for foules of the ayre, a large houſe ſerueth for pride, a beautiful houſe for laſciuiouſneſſe, a ſtoared houſe for couetouſneſſe, but vertue thinketh ſcorne of no habitation, vnleſſe it be poſſeſſed with vices.
Sorow.
I dwell very narrowly.
Reaſon.
Wouldeſt thou that any houſe may ſeeme very large vnto thee? Then thinke vpon the narrowneſſe of thy graue.
Of a priſon. The .lxiiii. Dialogue.
SOROW.
I Am ſhut vp in an vnwoorthy pryſon.
Reaſon.
Better is an vnwoorthy priſon, then vnwoorthy libertie, and muche more better it is for a man vndeſeruedly to ſuffer aduerſitie for righteouſneſſe ſake, then through wickedneſſe to abound in proſperitie, although thoſe ought not to be tearmed euilles neyther, nor theſe goodes, but I ſpeake as the common people ſpeaketh, who iudge payne to be the greateſt euyl, and pleaſure the greateſt good thing.
Sorow.
I am ſhut vp in priſon.
Reaſon.
Who is not ſhut vp in priſon? or who departeth out of priſon, but when he dyeth? This is thy deſtinye, and the common deſtiny of al men: why then ſhould you commence peculier or newe complayntes.
For knowe this, ſince the firſt day thou waſt borne, yea and before thou waſt borne to, thou waſt incloſed in priſon, and hampered with fetters, by his commaundement vnto whom al the compaſſe of heauen is a litle houſe: and yf we wyl alſo beleeue the greateſt Poet, euen in a darke and blynd pryſon. The ende of whiche pryſon, yf thou deſire to be plauſible and fortunate, thou ſhalt not abhorre the narrowneſſe thereof, neyther puniſhmentes, nor death, nor what ſoeuer may befall vnto man, vnto the pacient tollerating and contempt whereof, vnleſſe the mynde be prepared and armed at al poyntes in whatſoeuer fortune, he wandreth in a verie perilous path.
Sorowe.
I am ſhut vp in a filthy and narrowe priſon.
Reaſon.
There is no pryſon more filthy, none narrower then this pryſon of the body, wherein thou takeſt ſo great delight, and from whiche thou feareſt ſo muche to be diſſolued.
Sorowe.
I am deteyned in an inconuenient pryſon.
Reaſon.
Pryſon hath delyuered many from inſtant daunger, and the handes of their enimies. Vnto many the very entry of their pryſon hath ſtand in ſteade of a ſhielde, and that whiche was profitable vnto them at their entryng in, hath been hurtfull vnto them at their goyng out: inſomuche that beyng certified by the departure, they haue confeſſed that to be profitable whiche they abhorred, and that to be miſerable whiche they wyſhed.
Sorow.
I am holden in pryſon.
Reaſon.
Howe knoweſt thou whether perhappes it be a pryſon, or rather, as it is ſayde, a place of ſafe keeping? Howe often hath eyther the enimies ſwoorde, or pouertie more cruel then any foe, conſumed thoſe that haue been looſed from pryſon? Howe often haue they repented of their eſcaping? and their impriſonment, which they complayned to be long, haue they afterwarde lamented that it was not perpetuall: we haue ſeene ſome that haue lyued in pryſon ſumptuouſly, but ſo ſoone as they haue been ſet at libertie, they haue finiſhed their poore and wretched lyfe with a ſorowful ende.
Sorowe.
I leade a miſerable lyfe in pryſon.
Reaſon.
Some haue written bookes in pryſon, but thou frameſt complayntes there. Some haue learned good faculties in bandes, but thou learneſt to forget pacience.
Sorowe.
I am kept faſt in pryſon.
Reaſon.
Some
within caues and dennes, and ſome haue encloſed them ſelues within the circuit of walles, chooſing vnto them ſelues voluntarie impriſonment, eyther for the loue of God, or for hatred of the worlde, or for loathſomneſſe of the common multitude, as dyd many holy fathers in the primitiue Churche. Thou, yf thou be not diſpoſed that way, & deſireſt an end of thyne impryſonmēt, ſtay a while, eyther man wyl diſcharge thee, or els death, whiche caryeth a key of the pryſon doore. There is one manner of entrance, but ſundry ſortes of departyng. Some haue been let goe vpon pitie, ſome by the courſe of lawe, ſome through their owne innocencie, ſome by negligence of the keepers, ſome for money, ſome by craft, ſome by breaking priſon, or vndermining the walles, and ſome haue eſcaped out of pryſon by the freendly darkeneſſe of the nyght, and alſo ſince the memory of your fathers, ſome haue been ſet at libertie by earthquakes, and ouerthrowing of the pryſon: and laſt of al, they that coulde finde none other meanes, haue been releaſed from impriſonment by death. And lykewyſe no leſſe dyuers haue been the euentes of them that haue eſcaped. Marius delyuerie from pryſon, brought hym to the Conſulſhyp: Iulius Caeſars impriſonment among the pyrates, tranſported hym to the Empire of the worlde. In this age certayne haue paſſed from pryſon to lordſhyps, and the cheynes whiche they haue ſhaken from them ſelues, they haue layde vpon other. Finally Regulus, and Socrates, and many moe were not extinguiſhed in priſon, as it was thaught, but rather by an honorable ende diſcharged out of pryſon. To conclude, the pryſon hath ſent ſome vnto great glory, ſome vnto notable fortune, ſome to a kyngdome, and many to heauen, but al to the graue, for it neuer receyued any whom it hath not agayne reſtored.
Of Tormentes. The .lxv. Dialogue.
SOROW.
I Am vniuſtly tormented.
Reaſon.
What wouldeſt thou nowe ſay if it were iuſtly? For there is no torment greater then the torment of the conſcience. If this be vpryght, contemne theſe outwarde thinges, for thou haſt a comforter within thee.
Sorowe.
I am tormented very vnwoorthily.
Reaſon.
Take compaſſion vpon thy tormentour, he is more ſharpely tormented then
thou: for although the world crye out agaynſt thee, yet know this, that it is a leſſe euil to ſuffer, then to offer an imurie.
Sorowe.
I am tormented.
Reaſon.
A newe lamentation for an olde greefe: waſt thou neuer tormented before: Among tormentes thou waſt borne, among tormentes thou haſt lyued, & among tormentes thou ſhalt dye: tell me now what newe thing is befallen thee? The kindes of tormentes are changed, but the tormentes them ſelues do not ſurceaſſe. Examine the whole courſe of thy forepaſſed life, & recount what euer day thou paſſedſt ouer without torment. Perhaps thou mayſt finde ſomthinges ſhadowed with falſe ioyes, but al thinges full of true tormentes, wherof if thou iudge exactly, thou wilt confeſſe that there is no part of this life voyde. Wherby it commeth to paſſe, that ſome, not without iuſt cauſe, haue ſuppoſed this whole life to be a continual puniſhment. But you neuertheleſſe ſo demeane your ſelues, as though theſe Philoſophical ſpeeches concerned you not, they ſticke in the enterance of your eares, they pearce not into the cloſet of your mindes: So that ye lament for euery ſmall griefe of the bodie, but as for the euerlaſtyng and deadly puniſhment of the minde, ye do not feele it: in the firſt ye are impacient, but in the other without ſenſe.
Sorow.
I am layde vpon the wheele.
Reaſon.
What ſkilleth it whether thou goe vp to the wheele, or to the bed to be tormented? The tormentours knot ſhal wring thee, and put thee to payne: but heare now one with the ague, another with the gout, another with a ſhrewyſh wyfe, another with his ſonne, another with his louer, another with his ryches, another with pouertie, another by the Phiſitions hand, another with the ſchoolemaiſters ferula, another with a naughtie ſeruaunt, another with a proude lorde, another is vexed with an infinite hope and couetous deſire, another with feare, that is more greeuous then any tormentour. Search through the whole ſtate of mankynde, and thou ſhalt ſcarſe finde one man that lyeth not vpon the wheele: and beyng a thouſand ſundry ſortes of tortures, doo you feare none but thoſe that are made of wood?
Sorowe.
I am tormented.
Reaſon.
In the middeſt of thy tormentes comfort thy ſelfe, eyther with thyne innocencie, or with iuſtice: for if thou be vniuſtly tormented, thou haſt a cauſe to reioyce, whereby thou
haſt purchaſed experience to thy ſelfe and others, and alſo a certayne bryghtneſſe is added vnto thy vertue: the fame of handled and aduaunced thynges is more renowmed, and ſpices the longer they be beaten the ſweeter they ſmell, and moſt excellent wares are ſet a loft to the viewe, that they may be ſeene the better. But yf thou be tormented deſeruedly, thou haſt thy remedye in thy handes: but clottered fylth is purged by fyre and difficultie, and a deſperate ſickneſſe muſte haue a ſharpe cure: who ſo is weery of his diſeaſe, wyl not refuſe any bytter thyng, and he that is ſory for his ſynnes, wyll not eſchewe any puniſhment.
Sorow.
I am laide on the racke.
Reaſon.
If without deſart, thou haſt a meane to deſpiſe the crueltie of another from an hygh: But yf deſeruedly, when thou art plucked from the earth, thou mayſt the more euidently beholde thyne offence, and that which thou art now ſorowful for the committyng, thou ſhalt not be grieued for the ſufferyng of the punyſhment.
Sorow.
I am tormented.
Reaſon.
Eyther thy vertue is tryed, or thy vyce punyſhed: the one is often profitable, the other alwayes expedient. It is a good tryall for the ryghteous to ſuffer punyſhment, but there is nothyng woorſe then to ſuffer the gyltie to eſcape vnpuniſhed.
Sorowe.
I am tormented.
Reaſon.
Learne the way vnto patience, and death.
Of vniuſt iudgement. The .Lxvj. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I AM condemned by vniuſt iudgement.
Reaſon.
There haue been ſome ere nowe condemned by the ſentence of one iudge, or by the teſtimonie of a fewe witneſſes, who haue ben often tymes acquitted eyther by the voice of the common people, or by theyr ſecrete iudgement, or, whiche is better, by theyr owne conſcience, or whiche is beſt of al, by Gods owne iudgement. For the beſt appealyng is vnto the eternall iudgement ſeate of the moſt iuſt and hygh iudge: and he it is that vſeth to reuerſe the falſe iudgementes of other by a wrytte of errour.
Sorowe.
I am condemned vniuſtly.
Reaſon.
As the vnryghteous
are ouerthrowen by iuſtice, ſo are the ryghteous by iniurie. Then, whereas is vniuſt condempnation, there the partie condempned is innocent: and there is no man ſo foolyſh, vnleſſe he were ſtarke mad, that would haue this be contrarie, and had rather be condemned iuſtly then vniuſtly. There is none ſo feareful, vnleſſe he be too bad, but had rather be condemned by an vnrighteous doome, then acquitted. Whiche is by ſo much the better, by how much oppreſſed iuſtice is better then reigning vngodlineſſe, and a good minde to be preferred before good fortune, although the one abounde with payne, the other with pleaſure: Yea, I wyll ſay more, by ſo much the better it is to be iuſtly condemned, then vniuſtly cleered, as it is woorſe to let a crime eſcape vnpuniſhed, then to punyſh it. For in this there is wickedneſſe ioyned with iuſtice, a great good thing with a great euyl: in the other, wickedneſſe matched with impunitie, whiche I knowe not whether it be woorſe then the wickedneſſe it ſelfe, for truely it is the very enimie of iuſtice, and the roote of many miſchiefes.
Sorowe.
I am greeued with a moſt vniuſt iudgement.
Reaſon.
A minde that is founded vppon a ſure grounde, and gouerned by an vpryght conſcience, hath inuincible ſhoulders: whereuppon whatſoeuer miſchiefe be heaped, infamie or puniſhment, it wyll yeelde to no burden, but ſtandeth vpryght by it owne ſtrength, but ſpetially ſuſtayned by the aſſiſtaunce of GOD. There be ſome alſo with whoſe companie, in this reſpect, it may comfort it ſelfe, for lyke euent, companions not to be deſpiſed. At Rome Furius Camillus, and Liuius Salinator: at Athens Ariſtides and Melciades, with many other moe, among whom, whereat thou mayeſt marueyle, are Cicero and Socrates. Tel me now, whether thou haddeſt rather be lyke one of theſe, or be ſuche a fellowe as Publius Claudius was? There was none of al theſe, but he was a very good Citizen, & famous in the Common wealth where he dwelt, & yet they were condemned in iudgement, and eyther ſence into baniſhment, or thruſt into priſon, or haled to death. But that moſt wicked varlet, who, amongſt many other notable crimes, was conuicted of notorius whooredome, & for a bringer in of corrupt religion, was by the general conſent of al the Iudges acquited. Now, is there any man that ſtandeth ſo much in feare of falſe
infamie, that wyll not rather preferre the condemnation and banyſhment of his enimie Cicero, before his vniuſt acquiting? But theſe are humane and common matters. If thou caſt thy eyes vp higher, thou ſhalt ſee the King of Heauen hym ſelfe, with his moſt dearely beloued retinue, who walked in the ſteppes of their ſo excellent a captayne, ouerborne with falſe iudgement: and as many alſo as afterwarde folowed hym, who beyng of ſo great innocencie and vertue as they were, yet fel they into the whirlepoole and rockes of the ſame moſt corrupt ſentence.
Sorowe.
I am offended at falſe iudgement.
Reaſon.
There is one that ſhall iudge thee, euen he that miniſtreth ryght to them that ſuffer iniurie, who alſo ſayth, Reuenge is myne, and I wyl repay it. He alſo, where thou thinkeſt not, dwelleth within the hart of the Iudge and witneſſe, where alſo ſoiourne great reuengers: for there is noe beaſte that biteth ſo ſharply, as doth a mans owne conſcience.
Sorowe.
I am hurt by an vniuſt iudgement.
Reaſon.
To vſe well offered iniuries, is no ſmall diſcretion, by meanes whereof another mans wickedneſſe hath often profited an heedeful perſon, whereas euery mans vnrighteouſnes alwayes hurteth him ſelfe, and neuer doth him good.
Sorow.
I am condemned vniuſtly.
Reaſon.
Haddeſt thou rather then be iuſtly condemned? For ſo did Socrates when he was a dying anſwere his wife Xantippa, when as ſhe womaniſhly lamented that he ſhould die an innocent. And although ſome be of a contrary opinion, yet is it farre better to be condemned without deſart, then gyltie: For, in the one, the puniſhment only is greeuous: in the other, the cauſe of the puniſhment only is greeuous: in the other, the cauſe of the puniſhment alſo.
Sorow.
I am condemned by the vntuſt iudgement of the people.
Reaſon.
Lookeſt thou that the people ſhould ſee that to be good in thee, which they could neuer ſee in them ſelues, nor in any other? It is a great argument of thine innocencie, that thou art condemned of yt wicked.
Sorow.
The people condemne me vndeſeruedly.
Reaſon.
The ſame people alſo condemned, not him that had deſerued nothing, but yt had deſerued excellently wel, Canullus of whō I ſpake erwhile, & alſo Liuius himſelfe, & moreouer Scipio ſurnamed Africanus, & the other Cornelij, with ſuch like, being men of ſo great honour, whō they moleſted in ſuch ſort, that they draue thē into voluntary exile.
Sorow.
I am innocently
condemned by the kyng.
Reaſon.
And the determinations of Princes for the moſt part, are more taſtyng of reuenge, then of iuſtice: For whoſoeuer ſhall happen to ſpeake any thyng freely agaynſt the licentiouſneſſe of kinges, and ſeeme to take in yll part the loſſe of the ſubiectes libertie, he is by and by accuſed of treaſon.
Sorowe.
But I am condemned by the Iudges.
Reaſon.
There is no lyuyng creature more venen: ous, then an vniuſt Iudge. When men are hurt by a Serpent, they are ſorie, but they doo not complayne: for the Serpent dyd but that which was his kynd, although not that whiche was pleaſaunt to the ſufferer. Truly they were Iudges, who condemned thoſe and alſo Socrates. of whom I ſpake erwhyle, and acquitted Clodius: of whom and them whiche was the moſt vnryghteous, it may be doubted. And therefore ſuche people as are gouerned by Kynges and Iudges, ought to propoſe with them ſelues in their mynde, to endure whatſoeuer hard fortune and iniuries ſhall happen vnto them, and not to lament for them when they are once hapned.
Of Baniſhment. The .Lxvij. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Am vniuſtly dryuen into vanyſhment.
Reaſon.
What, haddeſt thou rather then be iuſtly banyſhed? For, as touching the heape of iniuries whereof thou ſpakeſt, it is taken in the contrarie part: and nowe thou haſt iuſtice to be thy companion, whiche ſhall be a comfort vnto thee in thy vniuſt banyſhment, whiche forſakyng thine vniuſt Countreymen, hath choſen rather to folowe thee into exile.
Sorowe.
I am banyſhed vniuſtly.
Reaſon.
Hath the kyng banyſhed thee, or a tyraunt, or the people, or an enimie, or thou thy ſelfe? If the kyng, eyther thy banyſhment is not vniuſt, or he hymſelfe is not iuſt, and ſo by conſequence, no kyng. If a Tyrant, reioyce that thou art banyſhed by hym, vnder whom good men are exiled, and Theeues are ſet in aucthoritie. If the people, they vſe their olde maner, they hate the vertuous, among whom if this manie headed Tyrant had founde any lyke them ſelues, they woulde neuer haue banyſhed hym. Thynke not therefore that thou art expulſed thy Countrey, but
remooued from the felloweſhip of wicked perſons, and that thou art not driuen into exile, but receiued into the companie of good Citizens. If an enimie, acknowledge the lightnes of the iniurie, for he hath not dealt extreamely with thee: He that coulde take from a man all that he hath, and hath taken but his Countrey, hath left hym hope. But yf thou thy ſelfe, the cauſe is, that falling into miſlykyng of the people or Tyrant, thou haſt choſen to depart, not only becauſe thou wouldeſt not be ſorie, but alſo vaunte thy ſelfe for preferryng the honour of thy Countrey. So that now thou haſt not a miſerable, but an honeſt cauſe, not of exile, but of abſence, hatefull to the wycked, and gratefull to the vertuous. Pythagoras voluntarily forſooke Samos, and Solon Athens, and Lycurgus Lacedemon, and Scipio Rome.
Sorowe.
I am condemned vnto exile.
Reaſon.
Many haue wonne credite by theyr baniſhment, not fewe there are whom ſome ſharpe ſtorme and iniurie of fortune hath made knowne and notable: and what letteth thee, but that thou mayeſt be reckoned in the number of them who haue gayned ſinguler fame by ſufferyng troubles, euen as by knocking Flintes together, fire is engendred?
Sorowe.
I am driuen into exile.
Reaſon.
In hiſtories thou ſhalt perceiue that thou haſt notable companions in this accident, whoſe moſt honourable felowſhyp may not only deminiſh the feeling of the griefe, but alſo bring forgetfulneſſe. Camillus was no leſſe regarded in his baniſhment, then if he had taried at home, as famous an exiled perſon, as he was woorthie Citizen, who had brought into the Capital houſe of Rome victories and triumphes, no leſſe renowmed for iuſtice, then famous for felicitie, and being ſhortly after driuen into baniſhment, in reuenge of the iniurie whiche he receiued, he ſaued his vnthankfull Countrey from deſtruction. It is not eaſie, I confeſſe, to finde ſuche another example of ſo notable a baniſhed perſonage: howbeit Rutilius and Metellus were ſo ſmally greeued with their baniſhment, that when Rutilius was ſent for home, by hym whoſe commaundement not to obey was preſent death, rather chooſing baniſhment, he refuſed to returne: eyther to the entent he would not in any reſpect diſobey the Senates decree and the lawes of his Countrey, though they were vniuſt, or els for doubt he might haply be baniſhed
agayne. But Metellus returned, with the very ſame countenaunce wherewith he departed into exile. Vnto theſe may Marcellus be added, euen the ſame younger Marcellus that hapned in the tyme of the laſt ciuile warre, who beyng dryuen out of his countrey, reteined not only his auncient conſtancie and ſtudie of liberall ſciences, but alſo applied them more earneſtly then before, and beyng free from publique cares, with ſuch feruencie purſued the beautifying of his minde onely, that he ſeemed rather to haue been ſent to the ſchooles of Vertue, then into baniſhment: which being much more eminent in Cicero, was by the woorthyneſſe of his woorkes, and his great learning, made the more famous, whereby he found no ſmal comfort, not only in baniſhment, but alſo in pryſon.
Sorow.
I ſuffer baniſhment.
Reaſon.
A ſhort baniſhment wyll ſoone reſtore thee to thy Countrey, but a long baniſhment wil purchaſe thee another Countrey, ſo that they ſhal be baniſhed from thee, that woulde haue baniſhed thee from them, which is now alredy accompliſhed, yf thou haue reſpect to the nature of the thinges, and not to the opinions of men. For that is a very baſe minde that is ſo bounde to one ſillie corner of the earth, that whatſoeuer is out of that, it thinketh it baniſhment: whoſo bewayleth his exile, is farre from that loftineſſe of mynde whiche was in hym vnto whom the whole worlde ſeemed to be a ſtrayght priſon. Socrates beyng demaunded what Countreyman he was, anſweared, I was borne in the world. A ryght Socratical anſwere: ſome other peraduenture in that caſe woulde haue anſweared that he was an Athenian, but Socrates Countrey was that which is lykewyſe all mens, to wit, the worlde, not only this part which you commonly cal the worlde, whiche in deede is but the loweſt part of the worlde, but Heauen it ſelfe, which is more truely tearmed by that name. That is the Countrey whervnto you are appoynted, vnto whiche if your minde doo aſpire, it wyll acknowledge it ſelfe to be a ſtranger and baniſhed in whatſoeuer part of the earth it remayne: For who wyl call that his Countrey, where he dwelleth but for a very ſhort tyme? But that is truely to be called a mans Countrey, where he may dwell continually in reſt and quietneſſe: ſeeke for this vppon earth, and I ſuppoſe thy ſeeking wil be in vaine. According to the law of nature, as it was
geuen vnto men, and the limittes thereof preſcribed, whileſt you liue here, euery lande is your Countrey, wherein whoſo maketh himſelfe a baniſhed man, is not ſo ſicke in effect, as diſeaſed in minde. We haue not here any perpetual Citie of abode, as ſayth the Apoſtle S. Paul. Euery land is the natiue Countrey vnto a valient man,
ſayth Ouid the Poet. To a man, euery Countrey is his natural ſoyle, ſayth Statius. With theſe ſpeeches I would haue thee armed, whereby thou mighteſt be alwayes one man, and eyther neuer or euer be in thine owne Countrey.
Sorowe.
I am commaunded to go into baniſhment.
Reaſon.
Goe willingly, & then it ſhall be but a trauayle, and no baniſhment: and remember that baniſhment hath ben vnto ſome in ſteede of a departure, and vnto other ſome, in ſteede of a returne: and there be ſome alſo that are neuer in woorſe caſe, then when they be in their owne Countrey.
Sorow.
I am enforcedly dryuen into baniſhment.
Reaſon.
In couetyng to do that which thou art enforced, thou ſhalt ſeeme not to be conſtrayned. All violence is ouercome by patience, and that ſurceaſeth to be violence, whiche is ſuffered willingly.
Sorowe.
I muſt needes goe into exile.
Reaſon.
See thou do willingly, which thou muſt els do nillingly, and ſuffer al thyng meryly, that thou ſeeme to ſuffer nothyng heauily: ſo ſhalt thou eſcape the force of neceſſitie, and al the Adamantine nayles & chaines that are aſcribed thervnto, and the loathſomneſſe and vexation thereof. But you couet impoſſible thinges, and flee from the neceſſarie, but both in vayne.
Sorow.
I goe into baniſhment.
Reaſon.
Perhaps into reſt, and peraduenture vnder pretence of falſe miſerie, lurketh true felicitie, at leaſtwiſe thou ſhalt now be ſafe from enuie: make haſte, and take holdfaſt of glory that is entermedled with ſecuritie. There is nothyng ſweeter then honeſt and ſafe lurkyng, with whiche no ſtreetes of Cities are comparable.
Sorowe.
I am dryuen out of my Countrey.
Reaſon.
Beyng dryuen away of the woorſt, inſinuate thy ſelfe into the companie of the beſt ſorte, and make it euident by good proofes that thy Countrey was vnwoorthie of thee, and not thou of thy Countrey. Let it perceyue what it hath loſt, and knowe thou howe that thou haſt loſt nothyng: Let the euyll Citizens want the weeriſomneſſe, and
alſo the hatred and ſuſpicion of thy preſence, and let the good proſecute thine abſence with loue and deſire, and with their eyes and mindes folow after thy departure: Let them be ſorie for that thou haſt forſaken them, and be thou gladde for that thou art departed with companie, and thinke not vpon thy returne, neither deſire to be with them that deſire to be without thee, and finally be not ſorie that another hath done that vnto thee, whiche thou oughteſt to haue done thy ſelfe: thou oughteſt to haue geuen place to the enuie of the people, and therefore to auoyde the ſame, thou willingly wenteſt into exile. Of this deuice I was the firſt aucthour, neither are there wanting moſt famous ringleaders for an example, for thou knoweſt howe that the three moſt remowmed Scipioes dyd the lyke, and that with ſuche conſtancie, that ſome iudged theyr Countrey, whiche was diſpoyled of their preſence, then whiche it had nothing in it more honourable, to be vnwoorthy of their aſhes when they were dead: and ſome likewyſe thought that the Citie deſerued to be girded with ſome infamous and taunting Libel: howbeit their names remaine in euerlaſtyng memorie, ſo that they cannot be vnknowen to thee by report, and the faythfull teſtimonie of all hiſtories, whoſe names are, Africanus, Naſica, Lentulus.
Sorowe.
I am ſent into exile.
Reaſon.
Nay rather to trie thyſelfe. Beware how thou behaue thyſelfe in thine exile, yf thou faynt, then art thou a very banyſhed wyght, yf thou ſtand ſtoutly, thy banyſhment wyll ennoble thee, as it hath doone many other before thee, who paſſed inuincibly and honourably through difficulties, to the ende they might ſhew the right way to them that came after. Let Tyrantes rage, let the people chafe, let thyne enimies and fortune treat & fume: thou mayeſt be dryuen away, taken, beaten, ſlayne, but thou canſt not be ouercome, vnleſſe thou yeelde vp thyne handes, nor yet be deſpoyled of thyne ornamentes, by meanes whereof whytherſoeuer thou goeſt, thou ſhalt be a Citizen, and one of the Princes of thy Countrey.
Sorowe.
I goe into baniſhment.
Reaſon.
Goe a pace, and depart in ſafetie, thou knoweſt not howlong thy kinges armes be: there is no place too far of from hym, he can defende thee in euery place, who defended thee in thy natiue Countrey.
Of a mans country beſiged. The .lxviii. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
MY countrey is beſieged.
Reaſon.
Troy was beſieged, ſyrus beſieged, Carthage beſieged, Hieruſalem beſieged, Numancia beſieged, Corinthus beſieged, and all of them ouerthrowen, who then neede to be aſhamed of beſieging? Yea, the citie of Rome it ſelfe was beſieged, but at what tyme it had ſurceaſed to be Rome in deede. What ſhal I ſpeake of Capua, of Tarentum, of Siracuſe, of Athens, of the Vehij, and other petie cities and countreys? Cities haue alſo their peculiar deſtinies, and fewe there are that haue eſcaped the deſtinie of beſieging. But continuance of tyme is ſuche an hinderance to the knowledge of thinges, that the citizens them ſelues are ignorant of the chaunces that haue befallen to their owne cities: thou feeleſt the preſente beſieging, but canſt not foreſee that whiche is to come, nor remember that whiche is paſt: for this is your maner, ye alwayes bewaile that whiche preſently aflicteth you ye are marueylouſly addicted to your ſenſes, after the manner of brute beaſtes.
Sorowe.
I am beſieged in my countrey.
Reaſon.
I tolde thee thou bewailedſt thy diſcommoditie, nowe might baniſhment ſeeme to be a wiſhed thing, for that it is leſſe hurtfull to libertie, howbeit neyther of them both is hurtful: for yf the libertie of the minde be true libertie, though he be ſhut in, yet can he get foorth, and though he be ſhut out, yet can he get in, and be whereſoeuer it pleaſe hym.
Sorowe.
I am beſieged in my countrey.
Reaſon.
Priamus alſo, who was no ſubiecte, but a king, was beſieged in his owne countrey, with al that his more famous then fortunate family. Antigonus Kyng of Macedonia was beſieged at Argos, and Eumenes kyng of Pergamos. In this age Robertus kyng of Cicile was beſieged within the citie of Ianua, who was nothing inferiour to any of the auncient kinges, if ſo be true vertue maketh true kynges reſpected: and doeſt thou poore wretche lament for the caſe of Kynges and Princes? Saint Ambroſe, and Saint Auguſtine were beſieged both of them within the compaſſe of Millane. And laſtly, the ſame Saint Auguſtine was beſieged within the walles of his owne byſhoppricke: at what time God takyng compaſſion on his
teares, tranſported hym from the earthly beſieging, vnto the kyngdome of heauen.
Sorow.
I am beſieged.
Reaſon.
And who, I pray thee, is not beſieged? Some are beſieged with ſinne, ſome with ſickeneſſe, ſome with enimies, ſome with cares, ſome with buſineſſe, ſome with idleneſſe, ſome with ryches, ſome with pouertie, ſome with infamie, & ſome with ouertedious renowne. Yea, this body whiche ye loue and make ſo muche of, as a moſt ſtreight pryſon, compaſſeth about and beſiegeth euery one of you with a perpetual beſieging. The whole worlde and circuit of the earth, wherein ye chafe and keepe a ſturre, and continually runne foorth lyke mad men to warre, wherein ye enlarge the boundes of your Empires and kyngdomes with ſo great ambition, ſo muche of it as you inhabite, what is it other, as Cicero ſayth, then in a manner a certayne ſmal Ilād, compaſſed about with that ſea whiche vpon earth is called the Great, the Ocean, the Atlanticum ſea, whiche being ſo great in name, yet howe ſmall indeede it is, thou ſeeſt. Ye are al of you beſieged on euery ſide, & doeſt thou complayne that thou art beſieged, as yf it were ſome newe matter? Prouide rather that aſmuch as in thee lyeth, what through thy ſtrength and counſel, thou procure meanes for thy countreies ſafetie. Do this rather of the twayne, and thinke vpon Siracuſian Archimedes, that induſtrious olde man: as for complayntes, wyl neyther do thee, nor thy countrey good.
Sorow.
I am beſieged within myne owne countrey.
Reaſon.
Haddeſt thou rather then be beſieged in an other place? I confeſſe truely that thou haddeſt rather ſo, and that more duetifully, to wit, that thou being elſwhere beſieged, thy countrey myght be free. But as touchyng thy ſelfe, ſeemeth it vnto thee a ſmal
〈◊〉
comfort to abide whatſoeuer ſhal happen within thine owne countrey, that the place may aſwage, aſmuch as the aduerſitie greeueth?
Sorowe.
I am pent vp within the walles of my countrey.
Reaſon.
Thou ſpeakeſt this, as though there were no greater narrowneſſe or penning vp then within walles. Howe many of thoſe that dwel in cities do ſo ordinarily frequent the court and places of iudgement, that ſcarſe ſo long as the whole yeere laſteth, they once beholde the citie gates? But geue this once the name of beſieging, then wyl they long to iſſue foorth, and
thinke them ſelues ſhacled in moſt ſtreight fetters, whiche effect is not wrought by the beſieging, but by opinion, then whiche there is nothing of greater force in ye wauering of this your mortal lyfe. This place requireth that I reſite a fable. It is reported, that at Aretium there was of late dayes a very olde man, that neuer had trauayled out of the boundes of his countrey: the fame whereof being brought vnto the eares of the gouernours, for paſtime ſake they called the olde man before them, ſaying that by good proofe they had founde that he vſed ſecretly to depart out of the citie, and to haue priuie conference with theyr enimies. Then beganne he to ſweare by al the ſaintes, that not onely not at that tyme of the warres, but not ſo muche as in the tyme of peace did he euer paſſe without the walles of the citie, from his byrth vnto that preſent houre. But they on the other ſide feigned that they beleeued hym not, ſaying that they muche ſuſpected his fidelitie towardes the common wealth: To be ſhort, they cōmaunded him vpon a great penaltie not to paſſe out of the citie gates. Howbeit, they ſay, that he was in ſuche ſort prouoked by the impaciencie of his forbidding, that the very next day folowyng, whiche was neuer ſeene before, he was taken without the walles of the citie. Thus though the pryde & ſtubberneſſe of your mind, ye are alwayes carryed away vnto that whiche is forbidden. And nowe thou complayneſt that thou art ſhut vp, and the whole citie is not bygge enough for thee, whom peraduenture ſome litle corner thereof, perhappes ſome one houſe, might ſuffiſe, yf thou were not beſieged, as for the moſt part it hapneth vnto ſtudentes. Moreouer, it fortuneth that al beſieginges be but of ſhort continuance. Ye haue comfort miniſtred vnto you both by the place and tyme, only ye lacke vprightnes of minde, which cauſeth you to lament and complaine, which runneth not by the nature of the thinges, but through your owne effeminateneſſe.
Of a mans countrey deſtroyed. The lxix. Dialogue.
SOROW.
BVt what ſayeſt thou to this, that my country is vtterly deſtroyed?
Reaſon.
Diddeſt thou not heare the fortune of
cities and countreyes which I named not long ſince, and the lyke alſo in other without number? Alexande
•
kyng of Macedonie ouerthrewe Tirus, and Thebes, and Perſipolis the chiefe citie of the Perſian kyngdome, and that thou mayſt marueyle the more, at the ſuggeſtion of one harlot: a great citie dependeth but vpon a tickle fortune. Agamemnon raſed Troy, Hanibal Saguntum, Scipio the younger Carthage and Numancia, Titus Hieruſalem, and lykewiſe other, others. Rome none wholy ouerthrew, but olde age battered it, beyng ayded by the ciuile diſſentions. And what maketh matter who ouerthrewe it, for aſmuch as we ſee it is ouerthrowen? The fame of the deſtruction of Millane is of later time, vnder Frederike, a barbarous and cruel emperour: & diddeſt thou thinke that thy countrey was priuiledged from the iuriſdiction of fortune, vnto whom great cities and mightie kingdomes are ſubiect? Hath loue ſo blinded thee, that thou ſhouldeſt imagine one citie, becauſe thou waſt borne in it, to be immortall, when as the whole world it ſelfe is tranſitorie? Heauen and earth ſhal fayle, the mountaynes and ſeas ſhalbe mooued, and al thinges that were made of nothing, ſhal returne to nothing agayne: doeſt thou then woonder or complaine that thy countrey is come to nought? Cities aſwel as men, as I noted a litle before, haue their dying dayes, but they chaunce not ſo often as they do to men, for that there are fewer cities, and they be of longer continuaunce, notwithſtandyng ſubiect to death: for not men onely, but all other worldly thynges alſo are mortal, the ſoule of man onely excepted.
Sorow.
My countrey is fallen.
Reaſon.
Perhappes it may ryſe agayne: for ſome are ryſen agayne that haue fallen, and the fallyng of ſome hath been the occaſion of their more fortunate ryſing. For Saguntum and Millaine ſtande at this day in their auncient places: but the next neyghbout citie vnto Millaine, whiche was the laſt of Pompeius commendation, chaunged place, as ſome ſay, by the ſame varbarous handes, and was deſtroyed about the ſame tyme: and ſo likewyſe were Hieruſalem and Carthage. Liue therefore in hope: but yf thy hope fayle thee, and thou ſeppoſe thy countrey be deſtroyed, beware leaſt thou alſo fayle and faint vnder fortune: For woorſe is the ouerthrowing of mindes, then of walles. A
man ought to ſhew a manly courage, and not an effeminate mind: and although thou be ſorye for thy countreyes ouerthrowe, do not thou ſemblably peryſh with it, ſeeing that thy ruine wil nothing auayle the common wealth: but rather endeuour to reſerue thy ſelfe & the reſidue of thy country folke, if there be any remaining, vnto ſome more fortunate tyme: in this caſe deedes are more needefull then lamentations, where alſo flight it ſelfe is commendable. Thou haſt heard, howe that vnto Terentius Varro, through whoſe fault and raſhneſſe the whole Empire of Rome was almoſt ouerthrowen, thankes were commonly yeelded of al fortes of the people, for that he diſpayred not of the common wealth, which his college or felow officer, a moſt noble gentleman who was in no part of the fault, ſeemed to doo. But if there be nothing els remayning, at the leaſtwyſe with Bias carie thou al thy goodes with thee, although thou depart ſtarke naked out of the walles of thy peryſhing countrey: and hencefoorth ſeeke after that countrey whoſe kyngdome ſhal haue none ende. Whervnto when as at laſt by the callyng of God thou art once aſcended, thou ſhalt no more feare beſeeging, nor deſtruction, nor any of thoſe thinges which are commonly dreaded in your cities.
Of the feare of looſing in warre. The .lxx. Dialogue.
FEARE
I Feare to looſe in war.
Reaſon.
Then ſeeke for peace.
Feare.
I very muche dread ouercomming.
Reaſon.
A moderate feare procureth heedefulneſſe, but that whiche is vehement engendreth deſperation, then the one of which there is nothing better in war, and nothing woorſe then the other in all thinges.
Feare.
I am ſhaken with great feare of battayle.
Reaſon.
What miſcheefe feare bryngeth vnto them that are readie to fight, and alſo heauineſſe, whiche proceedeth of feare, Flaminius at Thraſumenus, Craſlus at Carras, and Pompeius in Theſſalia, haue prooued, in which places and often elſwhere, that ſaying of the Poet hath appeared to true, Feare is an
•
nluckie ſouth ſayer in matters of experience.
Feare.
I ſtande
in great feare of the euent of battaile.
Reaſon.
Delay then the tyme vntyl hope may come: it is yll to goe forwarde in that from whiche the minde and dread do will to abſteyne. There is commonly in the minde a certayne foreſeeing facultie, contrarie to the motion whereof I would in no reſpect perhappes geue thee counſel to attempt any thing. The examples that myght be alleaged in this caſe, aſwel new as olde, are without number, wherof it ſufficeth me to haue cited three onely of the moſt notable.
Feare.
I feare the euent of the inſtant battayle.
Reaſon.
Shake of thy timoriouſneſſe, which none knoweth better then thou thy ſelfe: take heede that it be not the nature of the thing, or the want of power, but rather cowardice that imagineth this abodyng of euyll ſucceſſe, vnto whom there is nothing not fearfull and difficult. Wherefore if the ſame be burtfull to thy glory, yf to thy ſafetye, by the aſſiſtance of vertue it muſt be repreſſed, and the minde awakened, to whom it muſt be declared, that oftentymes the dangers are far fewer and lyghter then the feare, and that many tymes falſe fancies of terrible matters doo flye before the eyes, wherewith ſome haue been in ſuche ſort diſmayed, that they haue yeelded vp the victorie to theyr enimies, whiche they themſelues had alredie wun with their weapons. For falſe and vayne feare, is nothing ſlower then true feare, but in this reſpect many tymes the more vehement, by howe muche the errour of them that are afrayde, imaginyng al thynges to be greater them they are in deede, dryueth them foorth headlong with ſharper vehemencie: and thus as the ſame Poet ſayth, Haſtineſſe euylly gouerneth al thynges. But yf with none of theſe neyther, thou canſt lyft vp thy drouping minde, but fearefulneſſe ouercomme thy valiencie, keepe thee out of the fielde: it is ſeldome well done that is fearefully done. If thou goe thus affected into the batrayle, there ſhalbe one within thee that wyll fyght agaynſt thee, for the better part of thy ſelfe rebelleth agaynſt thee. Feare is alwayes an euyl gheſt of the minde, but a muche more, woorſe companion in warre.
Of a foolyſhe and raſhe felow in office. The .lxxi .Dialogue.
SOROW.
I Haue a foolyſhe and raſhe felowe officer.
Reaſon.
As thou haſt cauſe, I confeſſe, to feare, ſo haſt thou cauſe alſo on the other ſide to hope: for as this hath miniſtred, vnto ſome, matter of calamitie, ſo hath it vnto others, cauſe of great glorie. The raſhnes of Terentius Varro, procured death vnto Paulus Emilius. But on the other ſide, ye raſhneſſe of Lucius Furius & Minutius, purchaſed ſingular glory vnto Marcus Furius Camillus, and Quintus Fabius Maximus: the hiſtories are wel knowen.
Sorow.
I haue an haſtie and vnconſtant office felowe.
Reaſon.
Be thou conſtant and modeſt. Vertue neuer ſhineth more brightly, then when ſhe is compared with her contrarie. Why ſhouldeſt not thou rather modeſtly rule hym, then he raſhly dryue forth thee?
Sorow.
I haue a very inſolent felow in office.
Reaſon.
Haſt thou forgotten, how that vnto the ſame Camillus, of whom I ſpake erewhyle, being Tribune of the people, with the aucthoritie of the Conſul, his fiue fellow officers that were equal in commiſſion with him, at one time willingly ſubmitted them ſelues vnto his gouernmēt? This commoditie bringeth ſurpaſſing vertue, it purchaſeth auctoritie to the poſſeſſours, reuerence and ſhamefaſtnes to the woonderers at it: For thou ſhalt by no means better repreſſe the inſolencie of thy colleagen, then by induſtrie & vertue. By that meanes thou ſhalt bring it to paſſe, that he wilbe aſhamed to be called thy felow, as was Minutius aſhamed, and wil either ſubmit himſelfe vnto thee, with more honourable conſent, then if the people had made him inferiour vnto thee, or at leaſtwiſe all the world ſhal ſee, that though he be equal with thee in name, yet is he inferiour in valour, and what ſoeuer is well doone, ſhalbe counted thine, and what ſoeuer yll done, ſhalbe iudged his.
Sorow.
There is happened vnto me a foolyſhe and ſtubberne colleagen.
Reaſon.
Some thinges are learned by their contraries. Scholemaiſters are woont to propoſe ſome foolyſhe tryſle vnto their ſchollars that learne but ſlowely, whiche when the myt
of the learner refuſeth, it is the more eaſily withdrawne vnto the thinges that are true and woorth the learning. There commeth into my minde a notable ſaying of an obſcure fellowe, when as not long agoe the citie of Florence had changed the eſtate, which it doeth to often and willingly, and the gouerment of the commonwelth was committed to theauctority of the common people, one of that inſolent companie which had long time continued in it, and at length with greife had loſt it, deſpiſing the baſeneſſe of his poore neighbour that was an handicraftes man: And thou, ſayde he, whiche neyther art learned, nor euer paſſedſt out of the boundes of thine owne countrey, leadyng foorth thy lyfe alwayes togeather with thy companions in tradyng of thyne occupation, howe wylt theu be able to gouerne this ſo great and noble a citie? But he beyng nothing mooued here with, What great matter wyl that be, quoth he? As for you, there is no man ignorant what courſe you keepe, and yf we do euery thing contrary, we can not do amiſſe. O woorthy anſweare, meete to haue proceeded from the wit of ſome learned man. Do thou lykewyſe propoſe vnto thy ſelfe a contrarie example in thy college, vnto whom thou wouldeſt be moſt vnlike.
Of an vndiſcreet and haſtie Marſhal of the feelde. The .lxxii. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Haue an vndiſcret and haſtie Marſhal of the feelde.
Reaſon.
This is ſomwhat a more dangerous matter, I muſt needes confeſſe. Aſke of your legions that were ſlayne at Trebeia, at Thraſumenus, at Cannas, and in many other places moe. If thou looke for remedie, leaue vncertayne warfare. But yf thou mayeſt not do ſo, neuertheleſſe apply thou thy callyng valiantly, and diligently, ſo that thy valure may appeare among the errours of thy captaynes, and that the ruine of an other man oppreſſe not thee, but that thou rather, yf there be any meanes at al, mayeſt beare vp the common loſſe vpon thy ſouldiers. It is a difficult matter, I confeſſe, but neyther impoſſible, nor
vnaccuſtomable, which I commaund. For as the daſtardlineſſe of one Captaine hath often times ben the deſtruction of many ſouldiers, euen ſo ſomtime the valiencie of one man, hath ſaued the Captaine & the whole army. But to the end I be not longer then I ought to be: ſeke thou euery matter in order accordingly, for me it ſufficeth to haue recited the names & times. Publius Decius in the Samnitike warre, Calphurnius Flamina in the firſt punike warre, Africanus the younger in the thyrd punike warre, all the Tribunes of the Souldiers, the defenders of theyr Captaynes and armies. But ſuch & ſo great may be thy proweſſe and good hap, that the infamie of another, may turne to thy exceedyng renowme. A doubtful matter truely, but yet the onely meane in exte ame neceſſitie. And therefore, howſoeuer fortune haue toſſed and turmoyled other, yet yf thou wylt be ruled by mee, thou ſhalt not forſake to be gouerned by vertue, neyther in peace, nor in warre, nor in lyfe, no nor in death it ſelfe.
Of vnfortunate ſucceſſe in battayle. The .Lxxiij. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
BVT I am ouercome in battayle.
Reaſon.
Now feare is vaniſhed away, and here after thou wylt begin to hope, for as muche as this is the ſucceſſion of theſe affections. For hope and feare, beyng of thynges to come, as there may be ſome thyng to come whereof thou mayeſt hope, ſo is that paſt now which thou fearedſt.
Sorowe.
I am ouercome in a great battayle.
Reaſon.
Onely be not ouercome in minde: for yf that once quayle, all is marred. Thou remembreſt, how Marcellus the next day after he was vanquiſhed in battayle, returned into the fielde, and ouerthrewe his conquerour in a greater conflict then he had been foyled in the day before▪ And Iulius Caeſar, beyng put to the woorſe at Durachium, ſhortly after gat the vpperhand at Pharſalia in an hotte ſkirmiſhe. Many that haue been ouercome in battayle, haue gone away with the better in the warre: the courage of valient men is not daunted with one dayes miſhap, for ſuch haue not loftie only, but alſo long laſting valure.
If to day thou be ouercome, to morowe thou wylt fight more warily. Vnfortunate battayles, like ſharpe and faithful Maiſters, doo teach Captaines experience, and with ſtripes admonyſhe them where they haue erred; euen ſo lykewyſe are Huſbandmen by barrenneſſe, and Carpenters by the fall of houſes, and Horſemen by the often founderyng of their Horſes, and Saylers ſharpned by great and dangerous tempeſtes: thus by erryng, men gaine experience.
Sorowe.
I am vanquiſhed.
Reaſon.
There is none vanquiſhed, but he that thynketh hym ſelfe vanquiſhed, whoſe hope is troade vnder foote and extinguiſhed, whoſe minde hath layde downe the remembrance how to take aduerſitie. Beholde the Romanes, and their inuincible mindes at all times, but ſpecially in the ſeconde Punike warre, who notwithſtandyng the treacherie of their felowe nations, and ſo many conſpiracies of kinges and countreys, and ſo many vnfortunate battayles, and almoſt vtter deſtruction, yet were they not vanquiſhed: there was neuer any mention of peace made among them, no ſigne of diſpayre, and finally nothyng els was there among them, but altogether hygh and inuincible conſultation. Whiche thyng, what is it other, then by the vertue of the minde, to ſoften the hardneſſe of Fortune, and to enforce it to be aſhamed of it ſelfe, and to loue thee? But at length, as meete it was, they roſe aloft, and beyng a thouſande tymes ouerthrowen, they floryſhed the more, ſo that proweſſe and Fortune made not onely their enimies that were terrible vnto them, but alſo the whole world ſucceſſiuely their ſubiectes & vaſſals.
Sorow.
I am vanquiſhed, I confeſſe.
Reaſon.
Now at length thou beginneſt to knowe what Fortune is, & this commoditie haſt thou learned by fleeing: none almoſt learneth great matters for nought. Many haue learned better by experience, then by going to ſchoole, & the dul head that could learne nothing of his ſchoole maiſter by the eare, hath ben taught by the eie. There is no ſchoolemiſtres of humane things more certaine, then aduerſitie, none more conuenient to diſcuſſe and diſciphre errours.
Sorowe.
I am ouerthrowen with a great wounde of Fortune.
Reaſon
Ariſe, lye not ſtyll, greatneſſe of the mind neuer more notably ſheweth it ſelfe, then in the woundes of Fortune. But nowe do thou know thy ſelfe, & hauing ſuſteined ſo great a ſtroke, vnderſtand
how great thine owne ſtrength is.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt my hoped victorie.
Reaſon.
If it were vnlooked for, thou haſt won wiſdome, but to ſay yt there is no change in worldly things, it may not be hoped.
Sorow.
I am vanquiſhed in war.
Reaſon.
He that is ouercome in battell, retaineth his libertie and lyfe, but whoſe is vanquiſhed by vices, lofeth both, & he that yeeldeth thervnto, is truely ouercome in deede.
Sorowe.
I am ouercome.
Reaſon.
How knoweſt thou whether that which was ſpoken vnto Pompeius the great, who was vanquiſhed in battell in Theſſalia, do alſo agree vnto thee? It had ben woorſe that he had ouercome: for as the more harme, ſo the leſſe ſinne hath he that is ouercome. A great gaine, which ſome, not only wiſhing to be ouercome, but chooſing alſo to die, haue in hart preferred: and truely they make a good exchange, who by the death of their body, ſeeke for the health of their ſoules: but many reioyce in their owne harmes, and are greeued at their owne good, ſuch blindnes poſſeſſeth the mindes of men.
Sorowe.
I am ouerthrowen.
Reaſon.
This might happen vnto thee, not for want of ſkil in the art of warfare, but by fortune. Fortune neuer ſheweth herſelf any where more to be fortune, then in battel, as in other things ſhe may do much, ſo in this, they ſay, ſhe can do al.
Sorow.
Being vanquiſhed in battel, I am come away.
Reaſon.
But thou art not therefore immediatly naked. Marciall weapons may be taken from the vanquiſhed, but the true goodes, which are the weapons of the minde, they do ſtyl retayne that ſeeme to be ouercome. For they, as well as out of the fire & ſhipwracke, are brought away out of a loſt battell: And not thoſe alone, which being hyd vp in the minde can not be touched with any weapon, but they alſo that in the conflict ſeeme to be in the greateſt daunger, and moſt expoſed to the dint of the ſwoorde. And therefore not whoſoeuer is ouercome in battell, is alſo ſpoyled of his Martiall honour, although looſyng his armour, and fleeyng out of the fielde, or that more is, leauyng his Carkas dead vppon the colde grounde, he carrie away with hym the name of a woorthie Captayne. For the Grecian hiſtories report, howe that Leonides at Thermopylae, beyng not ſo muche ouercome, as weeried with ouercomming, was there ſlayne with his power, lying among the
great heapes and mountaynes of his enimies: whiche fame the Poet Virgil commendeth in Deiphobus: and in the Emathian ſieldes, if we beleeue Lucane, the vnfortunate armie ſtoode in an vncertayne aray. And in the laſt battayle that was fought in Africa agaynſt Hannibal, it was not poſſible that an armie ſhould be more orderly marſhalled, nor fyght more couragiouſly: which thyng, as he that was conquered confeſſed of the conquerour, ſo dyd the conquerour report of hym that was conquered, beyng eyther of them men of ſinguler iudgement in thoſe affayres. And what ſhal we ſay hath he loſt, who hath loſt neyther the true glorie of his art, nor the aſſurance in conſcience of his vpryght dealyng in that he vndertooke?
Of Ciuile warre. The .Lxxiiij. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
WE are ſhaken with Ciuile warre.
Reaſon.
The name hereof is deriued of Citizens, and thou art one of the Citizens, take heede therefore, that thou be not one of the number of the ſticklers in this miſchiefe, and to thy power thou be not voyde of blame: For this is the maner of ciuile warres, one man enflameth and prouoketh another, vntyll all of them ioyntly haue rayſed a publike outrage, whiche publique outrage at length pricketh foorth and thruſteth headlong euery priuate man forwarde. For this common miſchiefe neuer commeth thus fyrſt to ripeneſſe of it ſelfe, although by encreaſing it infect, yea ſometyme ouerthrowe an whole Citie: but yf thou wouldeſt fynde the fyrſt original thereof, it is rooted in the errours of priuate perſons. and this is that therefore whereof I exhort thee to beware, that thou alſo haue not ben one of thoſe that haue mayntayned the ciuile flame, eyther by miniſtryng matter to the fire, or by blowyng the coales. For many doo thynges, whereof ſhortly after they complayne, and lament theyr owne deede, as yf it were ſome wound inflicted by another mans hand. Many haue periſhed in their owne fyre. But yf thou be gyltie vnto thy ſelfe of no ſuche matter, duetifull and godly is the ſorowe of a Citizen
in the publique calamitie, but he may conceyue comfort of his innocencie. Of all the miſchiefes that folowe man, there is none more lamentable then ſinne, or rather as it ſeemeth vnto certaine notable men, there is none other miſchiefe at al.
Sorow.
We are vexed with ciuile warre.
Reaſon.
In the rage of the multitude ſhewe thou thy ſelfe a follower of peace, whiche though it be to ſmall purpoſe, yet aduaunce thy ſelfe though alone in the defence of libertie and iuſtice: whiche although perhappes ſhall doo thy Countrey but ſmall pleaſure, yet ſhall it redowne to thy commendation: of eyther of theſe, one Citie ſhall gene thee an example, to wit, Menenius Agrippa, and Portius Cato, euen the ſame that was the laſt.
Sorowe.
The Citizens are together by the eares in implacable ciuile warre.
Reaſon.
If thou canſt doo nothyng thereto of thy ſelfe, labour others, reprooue them, entreate them, withſtande them, chaſtice them, ſpeake them faire, beate into their heades the vtter ouerthrowe of the Common wealth, whiche conteyneth in it the ruine of euery priuate perſon, and ſeemyng proper to none, appertayneth to all: To be ſhort, ſeeke to appeaſe theyr mindes, at the one ſyde with duetie, on the other with terrour. But yf thou profite nothyng that way, make thy prayers vnto Almightie GOD, and wyſhe the witte and amendment of thy Citizens, and the ſafetie of thy Countrey, and in all poyntes fulfyl the duetie of a good Citizen.
Sorow.
The Common wealth is come to great extremitie by ciuile warre.
Reaſon.
To the ende that neither by ciuile nor external warres any thyng happen vnto thee vnlooked for, nor any chaunce oppreſſe thee vpon a ſudden, alwayes recount this one thyng in thy minde, that not men only, but al worldly thynges alſo are mortal, the ſoule of man onely excepted. And as in men, ſo lykewyſe in Cities and great Empires, there be ſundry diſeaſes and maladies, ſome in the outwarde partes, and ſome ryſing within the bodye, among which are mutinies, and fallinges away, and brawles, and diſcordes, and ciuile warres: and moreouer, that euery one hath a tyme prefixed whiche he can not paſſe, whiche euery day draweth nearer then other, and although it be deferred for a time, yet moſt ſure it is that it wyll come. Where there ſtand now moſt famous Cities, there ſometyme haue ſtoode rough and wilde wooddes,
and ſo perhaps ſhall doo agayne. It is a great follie for any Citie to hope for that of it ſelfe, whiche Rome, the Lady and Queene of all Cities, coulde not attayne. This is the difference betweene the endes and decayes of men, and of Cities, in that the ende of men, by reaſon of their innumerable and infinite multitude, and ſhortnes of lyfe, is dayly ſeene with the eyes: but of Cities, becauſe of the rareneſſe of them, and theyr longer continuance, it is ſcarce beholden once in many hundred yeeres, and then with great wonder and admiration. This meditation ſhall make thee more ſtrong agaynſt all chaunces, as well publique as priuate. And to conclude, the ſame ſhall lay foorth vnto thee, though not a pleaſant, yet an indifferent way vnto pouertie, vnto exile, and vnto death it ſelfe, and teach thee how that this miſchiefe is peculier to thy Countrey, which is common vnto you all that be Citizens.
Of the diſagreement of a waueryng minde. The .Lxxv. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I AM troubled with the diſagreeyng of my minde.
Reaſon.
There is no warre woorſe then this, no not ciuile warre: For that is betweene Citizens, but this with a mans owne ſelfe. That is betweene factions of Citizens in the ſtreetes of the Cities, but this is fought within in ye minde, betweene the partes of the ſoule. And therefore, foraſmuche as there is a kynde of warre, which is counted more then ciuyll warre, where not Citizens onely, but kinſmen alſo fyght among them ſelues, as was betweene Caeſar and Pompei, of whiche it was ſayde, Heere brethren ſtoode, and there was ſhedde the parentes blood: Muche more truely may that be ſo called, where not the father agaynſt the ſonne, nor brother agaynſt brother, but man agaynſt hym ſelfe doth contende: duryng whiche ſtryfe, the minde hath neyther quietneſſe, nor ſecuritie.
Sorowe.
My minde is at variance, and diſtracted with diuers affections.
Reaſon.
Away with that variance: begynne to minde one thyng. For tyll thoſe contrary affections, lyke ſeditious Citizens, minde one and the ſame thyng, neuer ſhall the minde be quiete and at peace with it
ſelfe. But as the Ague of bodyes commeth through contrarie and corrupt humours, ſo contrarie affections engender the Ague of mindes, the whiche by ſo muche is the more dangerous, by how muche the minde is more noble then the body, and eternall death more terrible, then the temporall: in eche yf a meane be obſerued, health may notably be maynteyned.
Sorowe.
My minde is at debate, and chooſeth not what it woulde.
Reaſon.
Thou nowe tyeſt the cauſe of euyll, and euyll it ſelfe together, ſuppoſing the ſame to be at debate, becauſe it chooſeth not: But let it once begyn to chooſe, & the ſtryfe wyll quicklie ceaſſe, I ſay let it chooſe to wyll that good is, not euyll, for els it wyl be ſo far from finding quietneſſe, that more and more it ſhal be diſquieted. For vices can neuer agree together: but where vertues are, there is peace and concorde.
Sorow.
My minde is at diſſenſion, being deuided into partes.
Reaſon.
Philoſophers haue deſtinguiſhed the mind into three partes: the fyrſt wherof, as the gouernour of mans lyfe, heauenly, bleſſed, & next vnto GOD, they haue placed in the head, as it were in a Towre, where quiet and honeſt cogitations and willes doo dwell: the ſecond, in the breſt, where anger and malice boyleth: the thyrd, in the neather partes, from whence proceedeth luſt and concupiſcence, the tempeſt of this ſea is double: ſo thou ſeeſt now what thou haſt to doo. Doo as Menenius dyd, of whom euen now I ſpake, he perſwaded the common people to come vnder the gouernement of the Senatours, whoſe profitable counſayle they followyng, were brought from diſſenſion to amitie: ſo he counſayled them, but yf counſayle wyl not ſerue, doo thou compell thyne abiect and baſe partes to obeye the noble: For tyl that be brought about, neuer looke to be quiet in minde: And lacking quietneſſe, ſurely mans lyfe is vnſetled, and foolyſhe, and toſſed about, and vncertaine, and blinde, yea, altogether miſerable. Many in all theyr lyfe tyme, knowe not what they woulde haue.
Sorow.
I am troubled in minde, and knowe not what I woulde.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt moe companions, troubled not once or twyſe, but, as laſt of all I ſayde, all theyr lyfe tyme. And truely among all that thou haſt ſayde, thou haſt not, and ſaye what thou wylt, thou canſt not, almoſte ſhewe a greater miſerie.
Sorowe.
I am
toſſed, and diuerſly enclined.
Reaſon.
To be in ſuche a caſe, is a notable argument that the minde is not wel. For as a ſicke body tumbleth on the bedde: ſo a ſicke minde knoweth not what to ſtycke vnto. Suche are in a moſt miſerable caſe. For better doo I conceyue of hym which ſtoutly perſiſteth in wickedneſſe (for if he repent, happily he wyl be as conſtant in well doyng, as he was impudent in naughtineſſe) then of a lyght brayne, which careleſly neglecteth al counſayle: for yf he at any tyme begyn to doo well, he is ſoone weerie, and wyll not perſiſte, but remayneth altogeather ignorant, ſo that we may well apply that obſcure ſaying of Seneca vnto hym: They which doo not that they ſhoulde, conſume the tyme without profite, for dooyng nowe that, nowe this, and neuer continue in one, may well be ſayde to doo that they ſhould not: albeit that place may otherwyſe be applyed.
Sorowe.
I am oppreſſed with cares.
Reaſon.
As though among the ſwellyng waues, the ſhyppe of thy lyfe, beyng voyde of counſayle, and deſtitute of a Maſter, coulde eſcape ſhypwracke, if thou doo not whyle tyme ſerueth ride in ſome quiet and ſafe Port, and there lye at Anker, before the tempeſt of the minde doo ouerwhelme thee.
Sorow.
I am caried away, knowyng not what to doo.
Reaſon.
And ſo beſides the peryls of the minde, whiche are incomprehenſible and infinite, your lookes are diuers and ſtrange, lyke the minde, whiche as Cicero wryteth, maketh the ſame, and beyng in ſuch a ſtate, now merrie, now ſadde, now feareful, now ſecure, now ſwyft, now ſlowe in gate, thou art a notable garyng ſtocke for al men, through the varietie of ſuch geſture, as was Catiline. But once ſettle thy ſelfe to wyll, and doo well: but otherwyſe, yf thou wyll that yll is, ſtyll ſhalt thou be as thou art: For vice is alwayes variable. Settle thy ſelfe, I ſay, to wyll that good is, and then ſhalt thou fynde, as thy minde quieted, ſo thy lookes ſtayed, and all thy geſtures vniforme, vnchangable, eyther through hope, or feare, through ioye, or griefe, whiche is a ſpeciall part of grauitie, ſeene in very fewe men, and hyghly commended among the Grecians in Socrates, and in Lelius among your Countreymen, and laſt of al in Marcus Antonius, and in Aurelius Alexander among your Princes.
Of a doubtful ſtate. The .lxxvi. Dialogue.
SOROW.
I Am in a doubteful ſtate.
Reaſon.
What is it I pray thee that thou doubteſt of? Is it, whether mortall men muſt dye, or whether tranſitorie thinges are to be contemned, or that we muſt not depende altogether vpon proſperitie? or whether deſtinie cannot be auoyded, and therefore muſt be tollerated, neither fortune bowed, but may be broken? To all theſe the anſweares are certayne.
Sorowe.
Beyng in a doubtfull ſtate, I knowe not what wyll become of me.
Reaſon.
In deede perhaps thou mayeſt doubt where, when, and how thou ſhalt dye, but that thou muſt dye: that he can not dye an euyll death, whiche hath ledde a good lyfe, or to ſoone, which alwayes hath played the honeſt man, thou canſt not doubt. Agayne, that he can dye out of his owne countrey, who maketh the whole worlde his countrey, or but in exile, whiche deſireth to be in his natiue countrey, except thou be vnwyſe, thou canſt neuer doubt. Whence therefore come theſe doubtynges? Perchaunce of fortune: but thinkeſt thou ſhe wylbe faythful to thee, whiche with none keepeth fayth? Is it not more lykely that ſhe wyll keepe her olde woont, lyke the troubleſome ſea, now deceitful with a fayned calmeneſſe, nowe with ſurging waues terrible, by and by dreadefull with ſhypwracke? And yet hadſt thou any experience at al, no place ſhould there remayne for doubting. For albeit the euentes be doubtful: yet vertue, which wyl make thee certayne in the greateſt vncertaynetie, is alwayes certayne, vnto whom when thou haſt geuen thy ſelfe, nothyng ſhalbe doubtful, but al thynges foreſeene.
Sorow.
I haue a doubtful ſtate.
Reaſon.
But the ſame is not doubtful to God, and therefore content thy ſelfe, and commit thee wholly vnto him, ſaying, In thy handes I am, do with me as it pleaſeth thee: whiche thing ſpoken godly, laye feare aſide, caſt of doubting, be no more careful. He knoweth what to doo with thee, which knoweth al thynges. With a litle, but ſure with a truſtie barke thou cutteſt the mightie ſea. He is a faythful, and moſt careful gouernour of thy ſaluation. What ſkylleth it if the paſſenger know not
the way, ſo it be knowen to the maiſter of the ſhyp?
Of woundes receyued, The .lxxvii. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Am vexed with moſt greeuous woundes.
Reaſon.
O howe lyght ſhoulde they ſeeme, wouldeſt thou beholde the woundes of thy ſoule. But ſuche delicate bodyes haue moſt commonly inſenſible ſoules. Of one part nothyng, on the other ye are redy to ſuffer al thynges, and, whiche is moſt wretched, ye neuer feele them.
Sorowe.
My woundes trouble me.
Reaſon.
The enimies ſwoorde pearſeth the ſhielde, not the ſoule. For ſhe can neuer be hurt, if ſo be ſhe do not bereaue her ſelfe of her owne weapons. It was ſayde of a certaye man in a litle, but ſure a learned woorke, that no man can be hurt but of hym ſelfe, whiche I thinke to be a true ſaying, albeit many miſlyke the ſame.
Sorowe.
I am mangled with moſt greeuous and manifolde woundes.
Reaſon.
There is no wounde more greeuous then that whiche is to the death, but there is but one ſuche wounde: and yf but one that is moſt greeuous, the reſt muſt needes be lyght. Caeſar being goared with twentie and three woundes, had but one deadly wounde: and yf we ſhould graunt them al to be deadly, yet coulde he dye but once. And albeit many and deepe are the woundes, yet but one effect is there of them all: the often woundyng of a dead body, argueth a blooddie minde in the wounder, but encreaſeth no payne in the wounded.
Sorowe.
With woundes I am weakened.
Reaſon.
Woulde to God pryde with al her ſiſters were brought lowe, and humilitie admitted for a companion of the woundes, that we myght finde it true whiche was written, Thou haſt humbled the proude, lyke a wounded perſon. It is a good wounde and profitable, whiche is a medicine to heale other and greater woundes.
Sorowe.
I am ougly in ſight through my woundes.
Reaſon.
Haſt thou forgot that young man of whom twyſe in this our communication we ſpake? Hereafter ſhouldeſt thou doo that of thyne owne accorde, which now thou doeſt lament to be done vnto thee by another.
Sorowe.
My face is diſfigured with woundes.
Reaſon.
The wounde is not to be regarded ſo muche as the cauſe thereof. Woundes receyued in a lawful war, do woonderfully adorne the face. Fayre is the wounde whiche a valiant man hath gotten in a good quarel, but muche fayrer is the death.
Sorow.
I am lame withall.
Reaſon.
Thou remembreſt, I am ſure, the anſweare of Horatius Cocles, who after he had borne the brunt of the whole armie of the Tuſca
•
e king vpon the brydge Sublicius, after a more valiant then credible maner, and eſcaped from his enimies, the brydge beyng broken by his owne countreymens handes, and leaping into the ryuer Tyber, though with ſome hurt vnto one of his legges, which thing, afterward ſuing for an office, was obiected vnto hym, thus ſtopped the mouth of his aduerſarie: I halte not at al,
quoth he, but ſuche is the wyt of the immortal Gods, that euery ſtep whiche I make, ſhoulde bryng into my remembrance my glorious victorie: as noble an anſwere, as his exploite was notable.
Sorow.
I haue loſt myne hande in fight.
Reaſon.
If it be thy left hande, the loſſe is the leſſe: but if it be thy ryght hande, thou mayeſt doo as dyd Marcus Sergius, a man of proweſſe, who hauing in fight loſt his ryght hande in the Punike war, made hym one of Iron, wherewith he went to many and blooddie battayles. But yf that be not ſo conuenient, make thy left hande to ſerue thy turne in ſteede of a ryght. Thou remembreſt howe Attilius, one of Caeſars ſouldiers in the Maſſilian warre, helde with his left hande the enimies ſhyp tyl he was drowned, when his ryght hande was cut of.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt both mine handes.
Reaſon.
Where fortune hath moſt libertie, there greateſt vertue is to be ſhowen. The power of fortune may be withſtoode by the proweſſe of vertue. Which if thou haſt, thou art valient, though thou haue neuer an hande. Cal vnto thy mind Ciniger the Athenian, who when both handes were cut of, after the Marathonian battayle, beyng a great argument of his inuincible courage, held faſt his enimies ſhyp with his teeth, as wel as he could, whiche battayle was the immortal fact of captayne Melciades. Neyther do thou forget that Souldier of Cannas, who reuenged himſelfe on his enimie with his teeth when his handes were maymed. For beyng in his armes, & depriued of the vſe of his handes,
he bit of his eares, and marred the faſhion of his face afore he would let goe, and ſo dyed, as he thought, gloriouſly. Theſe are examples of cruel mindes: but the remedies whiche nowe I preſcribe are more comfortable, and meete for milde mindes: And that is, remember thy body is a frayle and mortal thyng, and ſpeedyly alſo wyl forſake thee: when thou art wounded, or otherwyſe troubled in body, be not moued, neyther maruayle thereat, but hauing loſt the miniſtry of thyne outwarde limmes, conuert thy ſelfe into the inmoſt corners of thy ſoule, there ſhalt thou finde ſome great thing to be ſayde and done, and that thou needeſt neyther handes nor tongue to helpe thee.
Sorow.
I am deformed with woundes.
Reaſon.
I ſayde eare whyle that yf the quarrel were good, the wounde is faire whiche is gotten by fight, and the face is not deformed with filthy woundes, but adorned with glorious markes: Neyther are they ſcarres, but ſtarres, nor woundes, but ſignes of vertue fixed in the face. Ceſius Scena, a captayne of an hundred in Caeſars armie, a man of a woonderful courage, but of no vpryghtneſſe otherwiſe, was had in ſuch admiration among his enimies, that they not onely kiſſed his woundes, wherwith he was torne and cut through a thouſande fold, in reſpect of his valientneſſe only, but alſo conueied his weapons and armor into the temples of their Gods, as moſt excellent ornamentes, and reliques. If he, beyng a wicked man, was ſo honored, in what price are they to be had, who are aſwel vertuous as valiant?
Sorow.
I am extreamely weake through my woundes.
Reaſon.
Heale, ye wretches, thoſe woundes which wyl ſticke by you for euer, yf in tyme they be not healed. Let earth looke to them, which ſhall both couer, and conſume them, yea and make crooked bodyes, which it receiueth, ſtrayght, when it reſtoreth them agayne.
Sorowe.
I am maymed, being ſo wounded in this, and in that parte.
Reaſon.
Thou ſtryueſt about partes, but thou ſhalt forgoe the whole.
Of a kyng without a ſonne. The .lxxviii. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Haue a kyngdome, but I lacke a ſonne.
Reaſon.
Haſt thou not cares enough through the burden of thy kyngdome,
except thou haue the charge of a ſonne alſo? The heauier your burden is, the lyghter your hart, and ſweete it ſeemeth to you when ye lye downe with your loade. There is no publike wayght ſo heauie, as a kyngdome, nor no priuate charge more waightie, though none ſo deare, as a ſonne.
Sorow.
I lacke a ſonne to whom I may leaue my kyngdome.
Reaſon.
Leaue to thy ſubiectes libertie, nothing is better for them to haue, nor meeter for thee to geue. There haue been ſome whiche in their lyfe tyme, and yet not without ſucceſſours, haue thought hereupon, as Hiero Siracuſan, and Auguſtus Caeſar. Howe much better is it to do well vnto many when thou mayeſt, then yl vnto one? And what is ſweeter, yea better, then to lyue in freedome? What woorſer, yea more daungerous, then to be a kyng?
Sorowe.
I lacke a ſonne to be heire of my kyngdome.
Reaſon.
Thou lackeſt matter to continue a tyrannie. For what els are kyngdomes, but auncient tyrannies? Tyme maketh not that to be good, whiche by nature is euyll. Adde hereunto, that good fathers, commonly haue vngracious chyldren, to ſucceede them. Examples hereof may be Hierome of Sicile, and Iugurth Tyrant of Numidia, whereof the one through ambition, the other through trecherie, both to their deſtruction, violated the auncient amitie whiche their forefathers had many yeeres kept religiouſly with the Romans. Haſt thou not a ſonne? Then thou haſt not hym which ſhal ouerthrowe that whiche thou haſt done: thou haſt a people whiche wyl loue thee, honoure thee, remember thee, and alwayes thanke thee for theyr libertie. Thinke that God hath delt more graciouſly with thee, eyther in takyng away, or denying thee a ſonne, then in geuing thee a kyngdome.
Sorowe.
I am a kyng without a ſonne.
Reaſon.
Nowe raigne more vertuouſly, and freely: many tymes the loue of chyldren, draweth away the minde from the loue of iuſtice. Thou haſt redde how in the great Ilande Taxrobane, which lyeth farre beyonde India within the Eaſt Oceane, directly oppoſite to England, the kyng is choſen by the conſent of the people, and they take vnto them the beſt man among al to be their kyng: neyther blood, nor good, fauour nor profite, but only goodneſſe bryngeth to preferment. Truely an holy and bleſſed election. Wouldeto God it were
vſed in theſe partes of the worlde, then ſhoulde not yl ſucceede the good, nor the woorſt the wicked: then ſhoulde not wickedneſſe and pride come from parentes to theyr chyldren in al poſterities, as it doth. And though the beſt and moſt vpryght man with one conſent of al be choſen, yet is he neuer allowed for kyng, except he be both an olde man, and without chyldren, leaſt eyther the heate of youth, or the loue of chyldren, carrie hym away from the executyng of iuſtice. So that he whiche hath a ſonne, is neuer choſen: and after he is created kyng, if he beget one, he is immediatly remoued from his princely aucthoritie. For the wyſe men of that countrey thynke it impoſſible, that one man ſhould haue a diligent care both of his kyngdome and of his chyldren.
Of a kyngdome loſt. The .lxxix. Dialogue.
SOROW.
MY kyngdome is gone.
Reaſon.
Nowe it is a kynde of comfort to be without a ſonne.
Sorowe.
I am caſt out of my kyngdome.
Reaſon.
A good fal, thou ſatteſt in a ſlypperie place, and now, beyng on the plaine, and beholdyng the perilous height behinde thy backe, thou wylt ſee howe that deſcendyng from the throne of royaltie, thou art aduaunced to the reſt of a priuate lyfe. And if there can be no pleaſure nor happineſſe without ſecuritie, thou ſhalt perceyue, that ſomewhat more pleaſant and happie is the lyfe thou nowe leadeſt, then whiche thou dyddeſt heretofore.
Sorow.
I am driuen from my kyngdome.
Reaſon.
Thanke hym which was cauſe thereof: an harde thyng for the eare to heare peraduenture, but ſurely comfortable to the mind it is that I byd thee. For thou art dryuen from that, from whiche thou muſt needes depart, and that which wyllingly thou ſhouldeſt doo, thou art enforced to do. That force whiche ſhould be wyſhed, is not to be lamented. For who can eyther wyſhe to be aboue men, as a kyng, or myſlyke that he is made equal to others, as a man? If it be a goodly thing, and to be wyſhed, to excell, then to excell in the moſte goodlye thyng of all, is exceedingly to be deſired. Wherefore, to be
free from all lawes and controlment, to excell in outwarde glory, to haue abundance of golde and precious ſtones, is to be a kyng, but vertue is the thing whiche maketh the prince, and this wyl any wordlyng eaſily confeſſe. For who ſeeth not, that among men ſuperioritie is due vnto humanitie, not vnto riches, whiche onely make a ryche man, they cannot make a man ciuile, and ſo not better for vertue, neyther hygher for aucthoritie? But this, among other of your errours, aryſeth from the deſire of excellencie, whiche being contented with it owne place, ye ſeeke where it is not, not beholdyng the true euent of thynges and cauſes. For as among ryche men, the rycheſt, among ſtrong men, the ſtrongeſt, the fayreſt among the fayre, & among orators the moſt eloquent: ſo certaynely among men, the moſt humane doth excel other.
Sorow.
I am fallen from the ſeate of royaltie.
Reaſon.
If thou dyddeſt fall without hurte, it is very woonderful: For commonly they whiche ſo fal, leeſe kingdome and ſoule togeather. But if thy ſoule be ſafe, miſlike not, if thou be wiſe, thine exchange: For more quiet and pleſaunt is thy life nowe, then it was then. And that knewe they full wel, which not conſtrained, but voluntarilie forſooke their Empire, left their dignitie of Popedome, which ſome haue ſuppoſed to be aboue all other earthly dignities: among whom Diocletian is moſt famous, who being called agayne to the Empire, whiche of his owne accorde he had forſaken, contemned the wealth of the world, and the ſlippery place of principalitie, ſo greedyly ſought after, and dearely bought with the blooddy murderyng of many, he abhorred, preferring his pryuate lyfe before the royaltie of prynces, and the baſe fruite of his owne poore garden, planted with his owne handes, before the delicious fare of the courte.
Sorowe.
I am thruſt out of my princely pallace.
Reaſon.
Contente thy ſelfe, many ſecrete dangers thou haſt eſcaped, among whiche erewhyle thou were helde captyue, with ſtrong, though golden, and ſure, though glorious fetters, and couldeſt not beholde thy miſerie, beyng blynded in mynde: but nowe, through lyght of wyſedome, mayeſt perceyue the ſubtile place of inconſtant fortune. And what couetous carle is he, that would not chooſe a poore ſoundnes of the moſt noble ſenſe, rather then
a rich blindenes? But no leſſe noble, yea without compariſon, more noble is the ſight of the minde, then that of the bodie: reioyce therefore, that with a litle loſſe of a tranſitorie kyngdome, thou haſt attayned for a ſmal price a great thing, yea not one thing onely, for not onely blyndneſſe is departed from thee with thy kyngdome, but alſo thy libertie reſtoared, and thou thy ſelfe diſcharged of thy publique function.
Sorowe.
I am put from my royaltie.
Reaſon.
Credite them whiche haue experience: the royal robes, crowne, and ſcepter, are moſt heauie thinges: beyng lyghtened of ſo mightie, and manifolde a burden, ceaſſe to complayne.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt my kyngdome.
Reaſon.
Nay thou haſt eſcaped, and ſwymming away naked, haſt ſaued thy ſelfe from drownyng: ſuche men ſhoulde ceaſſe complaining, and beyng reſtoared to the land, ought to perfourme the vowes that they haue made.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt the happyneſſe of a kyngdome.
Reaſon.
If thou call it eyther a miſerable happineſſe, or an happie miſerie, a falſe felicitie, or a true miſerie, I confeſſe thou haſt done ſo.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt my kyngdome, my aucthoritie, my welth and al togeather.
Reaſon.
Thou oughteſt rather to reioyce thereat, for they woulde haue bereaued thee of al
•
oy, and deſtroyed thee.
Sorowe.
I lacke princely aucthoritie.
Reaſon.
So doeſt thou the cares and troubles incident vnto kynges, through the hatred and weeryſomnes wherof, ſome woulde haue departed from their thrones, as Auguſtus though modeſtie, and Nero through feare, others dyd forſake them, as euen nowe I ſayde. They whiche cannot wyllyngly, (as the affections of many are ſtiffe, and wyl not be bridled) when they muſt forceablie do ſo, ought greatly to thanke both God, and man, bringing them to that eſtate, whiche exceedingly they ſhoulde wyſhe and deſire. The firſt wiſhe of a good minde ſhoulde be, wyllyngly to embrace wyſe counſell, the ſeconde, to doo ſo though conſtrainedly. That full wel knewe the myghtie kyng of Siria Antiochus, who beyng ſpoyled of al Aſia beyonde the mountayne Taurus, ſent great thankes vnto the ſenate and people of Rome, becauſe they had vnburdened hym of an ouer great charge, and brought hym to a meane eſtate: Pleaſantly truely, though but from the teeth forward: but yf from the hart, prudently
and grauely was it ſpoken.
Sorowe.
I am come downe from my kyngly throne.
Reaſon.
I ſayde it was the poynt of a ſhameleſſe pride, I wyll now adde, the part of wretchleſſe madneſſe, to forget our eſtate, to loath that we are, to long to be ſuche as we can neuer be. All men cannot be Kinges, let it ſuffiſe that we are men. They that greedyly embrace their kingdomes, doo loath their owne humane eſtate, and woulde be counted as they are not, as it ſhoulde ſeeme, whiche ſo deſyre their earthly kingdomes. Quiet your ſelues, ye wretches, let them thynke them ſelues in good caſe, whiche haue lefte of to be Kinges. For as the ſtate of all men is hard, ſo moſt miſerable is the condition of Kinges: their innocent life to labour, their wicked to infamie, ech to daunger is ſubiect, turne they how they wyll, they ſhall fynde extremities to ouerwhelme them, and ſhypwrackes of theyr ſubſtaunce. To eſcape theſe thynges thou iudgeſt it a miſfortune, but ſure neuer came ſuche good lucke vnto thee, as when thou waſt moſt vnluckie in thyne owne iudgement.
Sorowe.
It greeneth mee, that another hath my kyngdome.
Reaſon.
It was not thyne truely, but Gods, and yf he gaue it, why eyther may he not, yf he wyl, take it away? or can he not, yf he pleaſe, geue it vnto another? But, beſydes the wyl of the beſtower, whiche alone may ſuffiſe, conſyder whether in thy ſelfe there were not cauſes why thou were berefte thereof, as thoſe whiche a certayne wyſe man doth expreſſe, ſaying, A Kingdome is tranſported from one nation to another, through vniuſt dealyng, and iniuryng, and reprochfull woordes, and diuers double dealynges.
Sorowe.
I am no more a King.
Reaſon.
Nowe art thou a man. For ſuche is the pride of Princes, that they bluſh to be called men, whiche our Sauiour was not aſhamed of.
Of Treaſon. The .Lxxx. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
MY freendes haue betrayed me.
Reaſon.
Nay thyne enimies, I trowe: For if they had been freendes, they had neuer betrayed thee.
Sorow.
My very familiers haue betrayed me.
Reaſon.
The name of a familer,
is a doubtful woorde: For there is a familiar freende, and a familiar enimie, then whom, a greater miſchiefe is not among men.
Sorowe.
They haue betrayed me, whom I truſted moſt.
Reaſon.
Seldome is he deceyued, that neuer truſted. The greater of power a man is, the leſſe truſt ſhall he fynde, and the more treacherie. The myghtie man muſt truſt moſte, and manie: Whereby it falleth out, that as it is a common thyng to all men, ſo eſpecially to Kynges, to be betrayed, and none ſo ſoone as they. Priamus was betrayed by his owne ſubiectes, ſo was Minos, Nyſus, Oethes, Agamemnon, Alexander, and before hym, Darius: all theſe were betrayed, I ſay, by ſuche as they put moſt affiance in. Among the Romans, Romulus, Tarquinius. Priſcus, Seruius Tullus, African the leſſer, and Pompey the great, and Iulius Caeſar, and a thouſande moe, eyther kinges, or in dignitie hygher then kynges, were betrayed in lyke maner. And what doo I ſpeake of ſuche as haue been betrayed, as though nowe there were none ſuche to be founde? Who is there, whiche both in great and lyttle matters, is not dayly betrayed, yf he haue any dealynges with men? Laſt of all, Chriſte was betrayed, and the Kyng of Heauen was not without the miſerie of earthly kynges.
Sorowe.
Thoſe whom I truſted, haue betrayed me, I am touched neerer with their treacherie, then with mine owne diſcommodities.
Reaſon.
That is wel ſayde, and godly: For ſo African alſo, whom very latelie I mentiond, as Cicero doth report, ſayth, That not ſo muche the feare of death, as the flatterie of his freendes, dyd trouble hym. And yet with neyther ſhouldeſt thou be too extreamely touched. For inaſmuche as it falleth out, that the betrayer getteth gayne, with the loſſe of credite, and he that is betrayed, damage with a good name: chooſe whether thou wouldeſt haue of theſe twayne.
Sorow.
The traytor hath deceyued me.
Reaſon.
The greater hurt is not thyne, but his. He hath betrayed thee, but hath caſt away hym ſelfe: he hath pricked thee, but hath wounded hymſelfe: in ſpoylyng thee, he hath ſlayne hym ſelfe. For perchaunce from thee he hath plucked, eyther thy kyngdome, or thy wealth: but from hym ſelfe hath he plucked his ſoule, his fame, the quietneſſe of conſcience, and companie of al good men. The Sunne ſhyneth
not vpon a more wicked thyng, then is a Traytor, whoſe fylthyneſſe is ſuche, that they whiche neede his crafte, abhorre the crafteſman: and others, whiche woulde be notorious in other ſinnes, ſhunne the ſhame of this impietie.
Sorowe.
I am betrayed.
Reaſon.
Happilie it wyl cauſe thee to beware againſt another tyme: For ſo it falleth out. Many admoniſhed ſometimes by lyght matters, learne howe to deale more wyſelie in greater affayres.
Of the loſſe of a Tyrannie. The .Lxxxj. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Haue loſt my Tyrannie.
Reaſon.
If it be a gayning loſſe, to haue loſt a kyngdome, how muche more profitable to haue loſt a tyrannie? For albeit, as we ſayde before, ſpeakyng of a king without a ſonne, all kyngdomes well nygh were gouerned by Tyrantes, yet through continuance of tyme they haue gotten through, and forgetfulneſſe of men, haue put on the bayle of iuſtice, ſo that the vnryghteouſneſſe of a tyrannie, and Tyrantes, are odious nowe a dayes.
Sorowe.
I haue layde away my tyrannie.
Reaſon.
A burden to the Common weale greeuous, to thy ſelfe dangerous, to no good man profitable, hurtfull to many, odious vnto all men, haſt thou layde away.
Sorowe.
I haue put of a tyrannie.
Reaſon.
Be not naked: put on ryghteouſneſſe, modeſtie, thryftineſſe, honeſtie, godlyneſſe, mercie, and loue, whiche are moſt goodlye ornamentes, and may be atrayned without anye money, onely with a wyllyng mynde: garmentes they are for good men, eyther vnknowen, or abhorred of vngratious Tyrauntes, who, beyng bedecked with Pearles and Purple, are altogeather naked, in reſpecte of humanitie and vertue.
Sorowe.
My Citizens haue dryuen me out of my tyrannie.
Reaſon.
They haue taken vnto them theyr lybertie, whiche was due vnto them, and haue geuen thee thy lyfe, whiche thou oughteſt to haue loſte for vſurpyng the ſame. Thou oweſt thy lyfe vnto them, who owe nought
vnto thee but malice. And thus vnkindly thou complayneſt, when reaſon woulde, thou ſhouldeſt geue thankes. But this is an olde wonte, that he complayneth, whiche hath doone the miurie, and he whiche ſuſtayned the ſame, doth holde his peace.
Sorowe.
I am berefte of the tyrannie, which along whyle I haue enioyed.
Reaſon.
They were thy ſubiectes, whiche myght peraduenture better haue been thy gouernours. Thou counteſt it an iniurie to haue thy long tyrannie to be cutte of: when in very deede the ende of thy tyrannie, is the begynnyng of theyr proſperitie, and the entraunce of iuſtice, the expulſion of iniurie. And yf it were ſhamefull, that many ſhoulde peryſhe for the pleaſure of one: it ſhoulde be ioyfull to conſyder, but extreame impudencie to complayne, that ſuche miſerie is come to an ende.
Sorowe.
I am throwen downe from the tyrannie, whiche I haue poſſeſſed this many yeeres.
Reaſon.
If thou haddeſt voluntarily come downe, it had been better: but yf thou haddeſt neuer aſſended thereunto, it had been beſt of all. Notwithſtanding, by any meanes to come downe, it is good, becauſe it is expedient and iuſt: and better is a forced equitie, then a voluntarie crueltie. Harken I pray thee, how an vngodly Tyrant, beyng in Hell, exclaymeth vnto the tormented ſoules, Learne to doo iuſtice, when ye are warned. Harken alſo vnto me alyue, exhortyng the lyuing, Learne to doo iuſtice, though with compulſion. Let not this my moſt neceſſarie and profitable admonition, vttered in due tyme, be contemned: the other was out of tyme, and made too late: For in vayne is it to learne that, whiche cannot be put in practiſe. Aſſwage now your ſwellyng mindes, and put away your proude and cruel deſyres to raigne, though not before, yet now at the length, after that you haue loſt your aucthoritie, ceaſſe to be Tyrantes, and wyſhe not that which ye cannot attaine. Shew foorth thus much ſhame, yf you cannot iuſtice, that, hauing changed your manners, and put on a newe habite of the minde, and made rycher through the loſſe of ryches, the worlde may ſee, that as muche as ye haue forgonne of goodes, ſo muche ye haue gotten goodneſſe. Haue ye neuer hearde, howe that not onely the Kyng of Kynges, and Lorde of Lordes, GOD Almightie, from whence is all power both in Heauen and Earth, dooth,
at his good pleaſure, both extende, and reſtrayne his lyberall hande, for cauſes iuſt alwayes, though ſecrete ſometyme: but one earthly Kyng, contrariwyſe doth put downe another, and one Tyrant oppreſſe another, and one nation deſtroy another. And neuer came this ſaying of the Prophets complaynyng vnto your eares, He ſhall geather the captiuitie togeather lyke Sande, and ſhall triumphe ouer the Kinges, and laugh Tyrants out of countenaunce? Frame your mindes to Fortune, or accordyng to the diuine pleaſure of Almightie GOD rather, and take heede of that ridiculous and fylthy example of Dioniſius, of al Tyrants the moſt deteſtable, of whom it is reported, that beyng banyſhed from his natiue Countrey, he kept a ſchoole, and ſo exerciſed his crueltie vppon chyldren, when he coulde not vppon men. A cruell nature, obſtinate in wickedneſſe, voyde of vertue, and farre from reaſon.
Sorowe.
It greeueth me greatly, that I haue loſt my tyranical aucthoritie.
Reaſon.
How woulde it trouble thee, to haue loſt a lawfull poſſeſſion, now that thou art ſo greeued that thyne vſurped aucthoritie is gone? How woulde it vexe thee, to haue forgonne thyne owne: whiche takeſt it ſo heauilie, nowe that thou art berefte of that, which was not thyne?
Sorow.
I can not chooſe but take it greeuouſly, that I am throwen downe from my tyrannie.
Reaſon.
Way the cauſe, and it wyll trouble thee the leſſe. The very name of Tyrantes, hath made many to fall: notwithſtandyng, it is well knowen by experience, that the moſt part haue deſeruedly been, and are dayly throwen downe from theyr dygnities. In the Politikes of Ariſtotle, thou mayeſt reade, howe that many Tyrantes haue peryſhed through the abuſes of theyr wyues. Whiche beyng vnderſtoode, eyther actiuely or paſſiuely, is true, that is, through the iniuries offered, eyther by Tyrantes vnto other mens wyues, or by the wyues of Tyrantes to others. Of the fyrſt, thou haſt for example, not onely Tyrannies, but alſo the Troiane, and Romane Kyngdomes. Of the ſeconde, thou haſt Agis, a Tyrant among the Lacedemonians, who hauing hymſelfe made a praye of the men his ſubiectes, ſet his deere wyfe to ſpoyle theyr wyues, which was not the leaſt cauſe of haſtenyng his deſtruction. But Ariſtotle, who floriſhed in the dayes of Alexander the great,
and lyued not tyll this Tyrant raigned, coulde neuer knowe hym: albeit in thoſe bookes, not without woonderfull admiration, I fynde the names of Hiero, and Gelo, but conſyderyng the courſe of tymes, I cannot conceaue howe he ſhoulde knowe them.
Sorowe.
Neyther haue I oppreſſed other mens wyues, nor my wyfe iniuried any, and yet am I dryuen from my tyrannie.
Reaſon.
Some tyme the moſte hurtfull, thynke them ſelues innocent. But many cauſes beſydes, as great, there be, wherefore Tyrantes are put downe: as pryde, whiche Hiſtoriographers obiecte to Iulius Caeſar, for that he roſe not vp to the Senate, when with great obeyſaunce they approched vnto hym: but that, in theſe dayes is counted no cauſe. Crueltie alſo is another, whiche cauſed Merentius, as it is wrytten in Virgil, to be puniſhed, and brought Caligula, Nero, and Domitian, to theyr death. Enuie lykewyſe, whiche was the greateſt torment, ſayth Horace, that euer the Tyrantes of Sicile founde: whiche yf it were ſo in his dayes, I warrent thee, at this preſent it is no leſſe. Laſt of all, the greateſt decay of Tyrantes, and moſt common, is couetouſneſſe. And therefore other thynges touche but certayne, and this all: The other trouble certayne Citizens, but this the whole people. Pryde and Enuie, raigne among Tyrantes them ſelues, crueltie rageth among fewe: but couetouſneſſe among all. Crueltie ſometyme ceaſſeth and is diminiſheth, but couetouſneſſe encreaſeth alwayes, and watcheth. Therefore, they whiche deſire to beare rule ouer the people, ought aboue all, to ſhunne this vice, together with the ſhame and ſuſpition thereof. For nothyng maketh a Tyrant ſo odions, nothyng is more vnſeemelie for a Lorde, or Gouernour. Other vices many tymes hyde them ſelues vnder the cloake, eyther of magnanimitie, or of iuſtice, but this one vice putteth not of the baſeneſſe and miſerie of the minde. And contrarie to the common cuſtome of mans errour: as nothyng is in deede more vile and miſerable, then couetouſneſſe: ſo nothyng is to be deemed more vile and miſerable. And therefore, they whiche are gyltie hereof, are iudged moſt vnmeete of all men to beare honour, and aucthoritie. Men diſdayne to be vnder the gouernement
of hym that is ſubiecte to couetouſneſſe, and that he hath no ryght ouer the bodye, they thynke, whiche can not vſe well the rule that he hath ouer his owne coyne, who thynketh it alſo lawfull to bereaue men of theyr lyues, I ſay not of theyr money, and yet dareth not ſo muche as touche his owne treaſure. Therefore the moſt redie and ryght waye to ſecuritie and quietneſſe is, not onely not to wyſhe to beare dominion as a Tyrant, but alſo not to deſyre to rule as a kyng. For what is more foolyſhe, more paynefull, or more perilous, then for a man to heape the burdens of the whole people vppon his owne and onely backe, who is too weake peraduenture to beare his owne? But the familiaritie with the mortall enimie, and the peruerſeneſſe of opinions, doth not permitte to chooſe that whiche is better. The next is, to haue in mynde the leſſon of Ariſtotle, whiche is, that a man ſhewe hym ſelfe to be not a Tyrant, but a fauourer of the Common wealth. He muſt, ſayth he, ſeeme to gather the incomes, and offerynges, the better to diſpoſe, and vſe them, yf neede doo require, for the defence of his Countrey in the tyme of warre: generally he muſt behaue hym ſelfe, as the keeper and Chamberlayne of common thynges, not of his owne: And agayne, He muſt repayre, and adorne the Citie, as a Steward, not ſpoyle it as a Tyrant: And againe, He muſt behaue him ſelfe not as a Tyrant, but as a King, carefull of the publique welfare, and loue a meane eſtate, not ſumptuouſneſse. By theſe, and ſuche lyke (as Ariſtotle would, and I doo like of) the aucthoritie continueth: this onely I adde, that he be ſuche a one in deede, as Ariſtotle ſayth he ſhoulde ſeeme to be: For diſſimulation, be it neuer ſo cunningly and wittilie vſed, can neuer be long hyd from the ſyght of ſome among manie whom it toucheth. Enter now into the conſyderation of thy ſelfe, ſee whether thou haue offended in any of theſe poyntes, and ceaſſe both to complaine, and maruel. For that a Tyrant being ſubiect to theſe vices ſhoulde be cut of, it is not, but that it ſhould continue, it is maruell. To conclude, both Kinges, & al Tyrantes, and as many as are of power, yf they deſyre to raigne a long tyme, ſhoulde diligently haue in minde that ſaying of Cato in Liuie, Auarice, and riotouſneſse, haue brought al great Empires to deſtruction.
Sorow.
Now
my dominion is gonne, I am no better then a priuate man.
Reaſon.
Thou were an enimie of Citizens, thou art now made a fellow citizen, learne ciuilicie, & confeſſe the benefite of a meane eſtate. Both more honeſtly, and more ſafely, among good Citizens, then aboue all Citizens, thou mayeſt lyue. Now thy ſtate is more quiet, thy lyfe more ſecure, without feare, without ſuſpitions, without watches, without ſwoord: among which euylles, I knowe not what ſweeteneſſe of lyfe can be hoped for.
Sorowe.
My tyrannie beyng loſt, I muſt lyue as an other common and inferiour perſon.
Reaſon.
Chooſe, whether with lamentations thou wylt exaſperate thy fotune, or aſſwade it with patience: for verily, yf thou wouldeſt demaunde of thyne owne minde, and not of the confuſet noyſe of the multitude, and conſider thynges paſt in ſilence, thou ſhouldeſt fynde, that thou art releaſed, and eſcaped from many euylles. Nowe mayeſt thou lyue inſafetie and quietneſſe, and dye in peace, neyther imbrewed with blood, nor drenched in poyſon.
Of Caſtles loſt. The .Lxxxij. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
MY ſtrong Caſtles are taken from me.
Reaſon.
Tyl now, ſome ſeede of tyrannie remayned: which is vtterly gon, thy Caſtles beyng loſt. It is not enough to cutte of a poyſoned bough, vnleſſe it be plucked vp by the roote. He that truſteth to his Towers, reaſſeth not to be a Tyraunt.
Sorowe.
My Caſtle on the Hyll, is taken from me.
Reaſon.
In all places, Caſtles are the fetters of freedome: but on Hylles, they are after a ſort as Cloudes, out of whiche, your pryde may rattle and thunder downe vpon your Subiectes: therefore, to be ſpoyled of theſe, is no lamentable thyng, but rather to be wyſhed. For among thoſe thynges whiche the common people call goodes, ſome thynges there are, wherewith good, and modeſt mindes alſo woulde be detayned, and prycked vnto vnlawfulneſſe. Whiche motions, yf thou canſt not withſtande with the
aſſiſtaunce of vertue: it were better to be without the cauſes of euyls, then by hauing ſuche thynges, to be allured vnto wickedneſſe.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt a moſt ſtrong caſtle.
Reaſon.
Thou calleſt it moſt ſtrong, but the euent proueth it to be but weake. But to ſpeake as it is, in deede thou haſt loſt a thyng for vſe vayne, for keeping troubleſome, vnprofitable for thy ſelfe, and to al thy neyghbours hurtful. Nowe ſhalt thou begyn both to ſleepe quietly thy ſelfe, and to ſuffer others to take their reſt by thee.
Sorow.
My ſafe Toure is ouerthrowen.
Reaſon.
Howe that coulde be ſafe whiche is deſtroyed, thynke with your ſelfe. But I wyl ſhewe thee a wel fenced and moſt ſafe Caſtle, and yet it hath neyther wal nor turret, nor troubleſome prouiſion of thynges: wouldeſt thou lyue ſafely? Then lyue verteouſly, for nothyng is more ſafe then vertue. And to lyue wel, I count not to lyue proudely, daintyly, galantly, but iuſtly, ſoberly, and modeſtly. Thou haſt neede neyther Caſtle, nor Towre, whiche make thee not ſecure, and quiet, but careful, terrible, and troubleſome. And what pleaſure is it to be feared, and not to be loued? Neuer heardeſt thou of that ſaying of Laberius, common in euery mans mouth? Needes muſt be feare many, of whom many ſtande in feare. This did he vtter agaynſt Iulius Caeſar, but more ryghtly may it be ſpoken agaynſt others, both inferiour to hym for power, and more horrible for their crueltie? I ſee nothyng, why ſo many ſhoulde deſire to be feared. For gratis no man is feared. For both he ſtandes in feare hymſelfe, and more dangerous is it for one to feare many, then for many to be afraid of one. It it not better that none do feare thee, and thou no bodie, then for many to feare thee, and thou many? For theſe thynges cannot be ſeuered, and alwayes by feare is engendred feare. Wouldeſt thou haue a reaſon hereof? Ouid the Poet geueth it thee: Whom a man doth feare, ſayth he, he woulde haue come to deſtruction: and Ennius before his tyme ſayde, Whom men doo feare, they hate, whom any doth hate, he wyſheth to be deſtroyed. Many feared thee in thy Caſtle, and ſo dyddeſt thou feare many. But thou wylt ſay, whom dyd I feare? But who is he that feareth not al men, when he begynneth to be feared, eſpecially them whiche feare hym? For Cicero folowyng Ennius.
Doth ſaye, They which wilbe feared of them, whom they ſhould feare, muſt needes be in great feare. I many tymes repeate one thing, for ſo doth the matter requyre I ſhould, neyther do ye marke, being blynde in this, as in other thynges, that whyle ye contende to be aboue al, ye are vnder al. What is more vile then feare? So al your endeuour endeth on the contrarie part.
Sorow.
I haue loſt my Caſtle whiche I loued ſo wel.
Reaſon.
Loue another whiche thou ſhalt not leeſe. Wal thy minde about with good intentions, thy lyte with good actions: Place prudence and fortitude before thy gates, iuſtice and modeſtie in the turrets, humanitie and clemencie about vpon the walles, ſet faith, hope, and charitie in the middes of the caſtle, let prouidence be planted on the top of the hieſt towre, a good name in the circuite of God and men, embrace loue, banyſhe feare, reuerence the woorthy, ouerpaſſe the reſt without eyther honoring or abhorring them: ſo neyther ſhalt thou feare any, nor any feare thee, and more ſafely ſhalt thou lyue in the houſe of humilitie, then in the towre of glory. This Caſtle wyl none inuade, this wyl none, neyther can they bereaue thee of, by this ſhalt thou drawe the wicked to admiration, the good to loue, and to imitation. O howe eaſie a matter were it to leade a quiet and good lyfe, yf ye woulde not diſquiet and make the ſame troubleſome, both to the deſtruction of your ſelues and others? For al that ye do, is to the ouerthrowe of your ſelues and your neighbours. And tell me, to what ende ſerue theſe your Caſtles, but to the diſquietyng of your ſelues and others, that neyther you at any tyme can be quiet, but that alſo, lyke ſpiders that lay wayte for flyes, ye may inſulte ouer them whiche paſſe by you. All other creatures content them ſelues with their caues and neſtes, man alone, then whom nothing is more proude, nor feareful, ſeeketh Caſtles, and buyldeth bulwarkes.
Of olde age. The .lxxxiii. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Am waxen olde.
Reaſon.
Thou deſireſt to lyue, and yet art ſorie that thou haſt lyued, is not this the matter?
Sorowe.
I am olde.
Reaſon.
Thou wenteſt euery day forward, and art thou amazed that thou art nowe come to thy wayes ende. It had been more ſtrange, yf thou haddeſt neuer come to the place whyther thou waſt alwayes goyng.
Sorow.
I am olde.
Reaſon.
Howe can it be otherwyfe, but that by lyuing thou muſt waxe olde, and by going forward thou muſt goe on a good way? Diddeſt thou thinke that thyne age woulde goe backewarde? Tyme, as it is ſwyft and tarreth not, ſo is it alſo irreuocable.
Sorow.
I am become an olde man very ſoone.
Reaſon.
I tolde thee that tyme paſſeth a way, and nowe thou begynneſt to beleeue it. It is ſtrange to heare, not onely what difference there is betweene the opinions of diuers men, but alſo of one man onely. The young man when he thinketh vpon his age to come, iudgeth it very long, whiche the olde man when he looketh backe into it, thinketh to haue been very ſhort. Thynges to come ſeeme alwayes longer then the preſent, beyng eyther in deede as ſhort or ſhorter: whiche the nearer they drawe to an ende, the more vehement alwayes, natural motion groweth to be.
Sorowe.
I am olde.
Reaſon.
Thou mayeſt reioyce yf thou art not waxen olde among vices, or yf thou art amended nowe at the laſt: for then thine olde age is good and profitable, and no ſmall argument of Gods fauour towardes thee. Thou remembreſt the communication whiche Caeſar had with the olde Egyptian, and prooueth by his olde age, that he had not lyued vnthankeful to the goddes.
Sorowe.
I am become an old man.
Reaſon.
A very fewe among many are able to ſay ſo: for of ſo many thouſand thouſandes as are borne, howe many are there that atteyne to olde age? And of them that do, howe many lyue out the lawful tyme that they may be called old?
Sorowe.
I am very olde.
Reaſon.
It is a myracle to meete with a verie old man, ſpecially if a man
thinke with hym ſelfe, with how many dangers on ſteppes he hath paſſed to that age. The great rareneſſe of olde folke, is a great argument of the manyfolde chaunces of this mortal lyfe.
Sorowe.
I am olde.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt runne an hard and daungerous race, it were marueyle but that by this tyme, beyng weerie and deſirous to reſt, thou were glad to ſee the ende ſo nigh.
Sorowe.
I am ſoone waxen olde.
Reaſon.
The courſe of your lyfe is ſometyme ſhort, ſometyme very ſhort, neuer long, alwayes hard, rough and vncertayne, the laſt part whereof is olde age, and the ende death: what cauſe haſt thou here to complayne alone? Art thou waxen old? By this time then thou oughteſt to haue fulfilled the dueties of life, and now reſt thy ſelf, ſeing thou art come to the end thereof. That traueiler were worſe then mad, that being weerie and weakened with his long iourney, woulde be content to goe backe agayne. There is nothyng more acceptable to them that are weerie, then their Inne.
Sorowe.
I am aged.
Reaſon.
The toyles of thy lyfe haue been pleaſant vnto thee belike, if thou be ſorie thou haſt paſſed them.
Sorowe.
I am an olde man.
Reaſon.
If thou haddeſt a delyte to lyue, loe thou haſt lyued: what needes thou muſt do, thou haſt fulfilled. And who is ſo mad that wylbe ſorie for the doing of that whiche he wyſhed, vnleſſe he perceyue that he wyſhed a miſſe? or reioyceth not, yt that is done alredy, that might not be left vndone, nor be done, without great trauayle? And therefore on euery ſide thou haſt cauſe to reioyce, whether thou haſt obteyned thy wyſhed deſire, or accomplyſhed thy neceſſarie and payneful duetie.
Sorow.
I am in yeeres, and olde age hath chaſed away the delites of the body.
Reaſon.
Enioy the pleaſures of the minde, which are as many, and truely more permanent, and do neuer depart but when the ſoule departeth, to her they cleaue, her they folowe. But bodilye pleaſures, when they come they bring offence, and when they depart they leaue behinde them cauſe of repentance, ſhame and ſorowe Reioyce that thou art diſcharged and free from them, and geue thankes to thy deliuerer for bringing thee out of the handes of thine enimies, and cauſing thee do folowe thy duetie, which thou haddeſt deferred and neglected.
Sorow.
I am olde, and want mine accuſtomed pleaſures.
Reaſon.
Accuſtome thy ſelfe then to new, for olde age hath it proper pleaſures, whiche when thou haſt taſted, thou wylt loath thoſe whiche thou haſt loſt, & if thou mighteſt, euen rufe to returne vnto them.
Sorow.
I am olde, and gray headed.
Reaſon.
The reuerende hoarie heares of a vertuous olde man, carie with them not onely more aucthoritie, but alſo honeſt delite, then al the filthy pleaſures of young men, neyther be thou greeued at the changyng of their colour. For whoſe ſenſes are ſo corrupted, or iudgment blynded, that he woulde not rather beholde baſkets ful of white Lilies, then hutches full of blacke coales? And yf he were to be tranſfourmed, had not rather be made a whyte ſwanne, then a blacke crowe?
Sorowe.
I am olde, and the filthy wrincles haue furrowed my face.
Reaſon.
The forrowed lande bryngeth foorth the ranker corne, and the lyfe that hath been wel inſtructed, yeeldeth the ryper and pleaſanter fruite in olde age. If the wrincles of thy face offende thee, frame the countenance of thy minde vnto more comlineſſe, whiche wyll neuer be deformed with wrincles, nor altered with yeeres, but rather encreaſe by continuance, and to be ſhort, wyl do thee more honour, if thou neglect it not.
Sorowe.
I am olde, and become ſo wrincled and euyl fauoured, that I ſcarce knowe my ſelfe.
Reaſon.
I tolde thee at the begynning of this: Nowe thou wylt haue leſſe deſire to looke in a glaſſe, & leſſe pleaſe thine owne (perhaps) but much leſſe the eyes of wanton women, whom to haue a deſire to delite, I cannot eaſily determine whether it taſt of greater vanitie, then laſciuiouſneſſe. But they that ſéeke for truſtineſſe, for conſtancie, for grauitie, for wyſedome, do hope more aſſuredly to fynde them among theſe wrincles, then where the forehead and cheekes be playne, and ſmoath, and ſoft.
Sorow.
I am aged, and the ſweeteſt part of my lyfe haue I left behynd me.
Reaſon.
Nay ſurely the ſowreſt: for thoſe thynges that are moſt wyſhed for, are not alwayes beſt. Many haue deſired their owne hurte, which they would not do were not the ſaying of the Satirike Poet true, There are but fewe that can diſcerne the true goodes.
Sorowe.
I am olde, and my pleaſant dayes are paſt.
Reaſon.
The dayes in al tymes are muche one and lyke, but mens mindes do varie, yea one minde diſagreeth from it ſelfe. Hereof it commeth, that
the madneſſe of youth on the one ſide, and the impaciencie of olde age on the other, haue in ſuch ſort diſturbed the iudgement of this lyfe, that that is counted good, whiche is euyl, and that moſt excellent, whiche is woorſt of al. As for the dayes, they are of them ſelues al good, for aſmuch as the kyng and creatour of al worldes is good. And although ſome dayes be hotte, and ſome cold, ſome drye, and ſome moyſt, ſome cloudy, and ſome cleare, ſome troubleſome, and ſome calme, yet yf thou haue a reſpect vnto the beautie of the whole worlde, and the courſe of nature, they be al good. But yf they be referred vnto you and your iudgement, they are almoſt al of them euyl, ſorowful, doubtful, heauie, troubleſome, careful, bitter, plaintile, lamentable, ful of aduerſitie. Among theſe thou telleſt me a tale of certayne pleaſant ones, I knowe not what, whiche whiles they were preſent were heauie, and not without their complaintes, and nothing maketh them now ſeem: pleaſant, but that they are paſt, and the deſire thou haſt that they ſhoulde returne, maketh them deare vnto thee, and the rather, for that perhaps they haue caried away with them ſome thynges whereby thou ſetteſt no ſmall ſtore. A foole commonly loueth nothyng but that he hath loſt.
Sorowe.
I am waren old, but O that my young dayes woulde returne agayne.
Reaſon.
O no leſſe foolyſhe then vayne wyſhe, as thou meaneſt: but yf thy vnderſtandyng were of hygher matters, then were it not voyde, for it wyl ſurely come agayne one day, and according as it is written. Thyne youth ſhalbe renewed, as is were the youth of an Eagle.
Sorowe.
I am olde, and my good tyme is paſt.
Reaſon.
As euery age is good to the good, ſo is it euyl to the euyll liuers, vnto both ſure it is, but ſhort, and very neare to the ende, when as the godly ſhalbe rewarded for their vertue, and the wycked puniſhed for their ſinnes. Which is then this good tyme wherof thou ſpeakeſt, whiche is euermore hard and fleeting, but onely in reſpect that it leadeth to eternitie? Otherwyſe yf there were any thyng ſweete in it, the ſwyftneſſe thereof in paſſing away may ſeeme to abate it: for who can taſt a thing wel as he is running? When Darius was in flyght, a draught of foule and ſtinking water ſeemed moſt ſweete vnto hym: Thirſt, as Cicero thinketh, but as I iudge, feare, had corrupted his taſt. Alexander that banquiſhed
hym, folowed hard at his heeles: and ſwift tyme likewiſe purſueth you apace. The yeeres runne away, the dayes folow headlong one vpon another, the houres haue wynges, and ſlyt ſwyftly, & death ſtandeth before your eies, neyther can ye returne when ye are ſtaied, nor ſtay when ye are driuen, nor paſſe further when ye are preuented. Of this way then that is beſet with ſo many dangers, and ſubiect to ſo many terrours, what part thereof, I pray thee, can be good? But I vnderſtand your meanyng: you call that a good age whiche is moſt apt vnto ſhame and licentiouſneſſe: For this is your manner of ſpeaking, to tearme that good whiche is moſt agreable to your affections, be thoſe your affectitions neuer ſo euyll. So doth the theefe cal the chaine good, which he prepareth for the trew mans necke, and the Tirant his citadel, whiche he buildeth to bereaue his ſubiectes of their libertie, and the witche her peſtilent poyſons. whiche ſhe mingleth to infect poore innocentes, and the murtherer his blade, wherewith he entendeth to commit ſlaughter: and ſo likewyſe do you cal that age good, whiche is moſt conuenient for the thynges that you deſire. And therefore, among al them that lament the loſſe of their forepaſſed dayes, ye ſhal not finde one to lament his childhood or infancie, which in deede were the beſt parts of this lyfe, if to be beſt, were to be fartheſt from olde age: as ye holde opinion. No not the middle age, nor olde age, which beginneth but nowe, & is yet to be counted greene old age: but it is youth, youth, that ye require, the moſt dangerous and woorſt part of al your life O ſay ye, the pleaſant dayes of fyue and twentie yeeres, where are ye become? which ye ſpeake, that your aunciēt filthineſſe may be knowen vnto al men, how wel ye like of them without repentāce, ſecking for nothyng els then a conueniēt tyme for them.
Sorowe.
I am old, why ſhould I not ſigh with that king in Virgil that ſayde, O that Iupiter would reſtore vnto me my forepaſſed dayes?
Reaſon.
But we heare not that euer Socrates, Plato, Fabius, or Cato, ſamented for any ſuch matter, and yet they were old men: but I confeſſe that it is a more rare thing to finde a wiſe man, then a king. And therefore if king Enander had been a wyſe king, that ſame ſigh of his, ſhould not be doubtleſſe ſo cōmonly frequented of our old men now adayes. Fooliſh old men do ſigh, & with heauineſſe of minde
cal backe for their youthful dayes, but al in vayne: which they goe about to reuoke, not onely with their ſecrete wyſhes, but alſo with booteleſſe medicines, and cunning woorkemanſhyp, to alter the courſe of vnbridled nature. In whiche poynt Hadriane the Emperour, very pleaſantly ſkoffed at a certayne grayheaded ſire, vnto whom he had denyed a ſute. And when he ſawe hym come agayne to renue his former requeſt, and in the meanewhile had dyed his hoarie haires into a blacke colour, he repelled hym with this anſweare: No, goe thy wayes, quoth the Emperour, for I haue denyed the ſame alredie to thy father.
Sorow.
I am aged, O that I coulde waxe young agayne.
Reaſon.
Erewhyle I tolde thee, that thy youth woulde returne, and nowe I ſay it is returned. If thou mighteſt ſo caſily obteyne thy wyſh in al thynges, thou ſhouldeſt wyſhe for nothyng in vayne. The poore man wyſheth for ryches, the bondman for freedome, the deformed perſon for beautie, the ſicke man for health, the weerie for reſt, the baniſhed, to be called home: but he that deſerueth the true name of an olde man, cannot wyſhe for his youth agayne, for that is a very chyldiſhe deſire.
Sorowe.
I am waxen olde, alas why hath my pleaſant youth ſo ſoone forſaken me?
Reaſon.
It is ſoone gone that is pleaſant, and that commeth alwayes to quickely that is payneful. But it is a vayne thyng to wyſhe for that which cannot be had, and annoye in the hauing, and would hurt if it returned agayne. Leaue of now thy ſighing, for whilſt thou continueſt in this minde, thou mayſt ſoone become grayheaded, but neuer an old man: For the deſire to be young man old man, what is it other then the verye chyldiſhnes of old age?
Sorowe.
I am old and crooked.
Reaſon.
Beholde the earth, and thinke from whence thou cameſt, and whyther thou ſhalt: For from thence thou cameſt, and thither thou muſt goe agayne. Nature putteth thee in minde both of thy beginning and ending. To the intent thou ſhouldeſt not goe aſtray, the common paſſage is ſhewed vnto thee, into which ſince thou art entred, looke downe vpon it diligently: the manner is, for blynde men to be lead on their way by the hand.
Sorowe.
I am ſoddenly waxen olde.
Reaſon.
Nay rather by ſmall and ſmal, creepingly, ſlowly, ſoftly, but that whē men thinke vpon nothing, al thynges ſeeme
to happen ſodaynly vnto them, as contrariwyſe, when they mind all thynges, nothyng commeth vnlooked for. And yf olde age were a thing to be lamented, then ſhould men lament al the dayes of their lyfe, for through them, as ſteppes, they trace vnto that.
Sorow.
Alas, I am olde.
Reaſon.
O vnconſtancie of deſyres, vnto this dyddeſt thou ſpecially endeuour to attayne, vnto this dyddeſt thou moſt couet, and that thou ſhouldeſt not reache thereunto dyddeſt thou much feare, and now that thou art come to it, thou lamenteſt, which were a monſtrous and incredible matter, but that it is now vſual among you. All would fayne come to olde age, but none wyl be content to be olde: but rather ye count olde age miſerie, and to be called olde, an iniurie, as yf it were a reproch to be aged, which none may iudge ſo, but they that thinke it a ſhame to haue lyued: of which ſort, I confeſſe, the number is not ſmal, from whom notwithſtanding, I would haue thee exempted, to the ende thou mayeſt be the better for our communication. Otherwyſe, good counſell can neuer ſinke into the hart, although it be abundantly poured into the eares.
Sorowe.
I am waxen aged at length.
Reaſon.
They that haue ſuſteined loſſes on the land, on the ſea, in warre▪ and by gaming, immediatly perceiue their harmes: but thou onely awakeſt in the ende, and beginneſt to complayne, when as the ende of all complain
•
es is at hande.
Sorowe.
I am olde.
Rea on.
It is the part of a
•
oole, neuer to thynke vpon olde age, but when it is come: For truely, if thou haddeſt foreſeene that it ſhoulde haue come, or perceyued it commyng, thou ſhouldeſt with leſſe greefe behold it preſent.
Sorow.
Alas, I am now an ag
•
d wyght.
Reaſon.
Lament not for it: thou haſt fulfilled an hard charge, thou haſt paſſed through a rough and ragged iourney, and finiſhed an vnpleaſant Comedie. And therefore now after the maner of ſuch actions, thou ſhouldeſt clap thy handes, and crie plaudite.
Sorowe.
I am an olde man.
Reaſon.
Haſt thou forgotten, how that of late dayes, one that was very familiar with thee, expreſſed the effect hereof ex tempore, not as a new ſaying, but as comparable vnto any in tymes paſt? For when a certaine freende of his ſayde vnto hym, I am ſory for thee, for I perceiue thou waxeſt olde, I woulde thou were in as good eſtate as when I knewe thee fyrſt: he anſwered ſuddenly,
Seeme I not vnto thee foolyſh enough, but that thou muſt wyſh me more foole then I am? Take no care for me, I pray thee, for that I am olde, but rather be ſorie for me yt euer I was young. O how much vnderſtanding is there conteined in this ſhort anſwere, whiche none can conceiue, but he that hath taſteth the commodities of this age, and remembreth the miſeries of ye other? Reioyce therefore in thine owne felicitie, although it be alſo true, that often tymes good hapneth vnto men againſt their wylles, and euyll vnwiſhed for. Doubtleſſe, vnto a good man that loueth veriue & hateth fond affections, one whole day of this age, which thou miſlikeſt of, is more acceptable, then an whole yeere of retchleſſe youth.
Sorow.
Alas, I am aged.
Reaſon.
If thou continue in this mind, it may be truly ſayd of thee, which is verified of ye common people, that thou art not ſo much wretched now thou art old, as that thou liuedſt miſerable, that ſo fondly thou complayneſt thereof, now at the very ende of thy life. Leaue of your complaints now at length, you whining generation, and willingly yeelde to the neceſſitie of nature, ſince there is nothing to be lamented, that her immoueable lawe hath determined. For what is more natural for a man that is borne, then to lyue vntyl he be old, and when he is olde to dye? But you, being forgetfull of your eſtate, doo eſchew them both, and yet of neceſſitie you muſt taſte of the one, or of the both. And yf ye woulde eſcape them both, then muſt you haue abſtained from the third, and beleeue me, not haue ben borne at all. As ſoone as your bodyes are growen into yeeres, let your mindes waxe olde alſo, and let not the old Prouerbe be euermore verified in you, to wit, That one minde, is able to conſume many bodyes. Suffer without grudging your body and your mind to continue together to the ende: as they came in, ſo let them depart out of the worlde together, and when the one draweth forwarde, let not the other drawe backwarde. Your dallying is but in vayne, you muſt needes depart, and not tarrie heere, and returne no more, whiche may ſeeme vnto you but a ſmall matter, in conſideration of the immortalitie of your ſoules, and reſurrection of your bodyes, whiche you looke for, aboue ſuche as eyther looke for but the one, or for neyther. In vayne, I ſay, ye ſtryue agaynſt the ſtreame, and goe about to ſhake of the yoake of mans frayltie,
whiche ye vndertooke when ye were borne.
Sorowe.
I am olde, and the ſtrength of my body is decayed.
Reaſon.
If the force of thy minde be encreaſed, it is well, and thou haſt made a good exchange: For there is no man ignorant, vnleſſe he lacke a minde, that greater & better exploites may be atchieued by the ſtrength of the minde, then of the body. But yf the ſtrength of the minde, as oftentymes it hapneth, be deminiſhed through ſlouthfulneſſe, then haſt thou, I confeſſe, lyued vnprofitably, whiche is thine owne fault, and not thine ages.
Sorowe.
I am olde, and I cannot follow my buſineſſe.
Reaſon.
Yf there be any thing to be done by the minde, by ſo muche the better an olde man may doo it, by howe muche he hath the more experience and knowledge in thynges, and is leſſe ſubiect to paſſions, and his minde more free from all miſchiefes and imperfections: as for other matters, olde men can not deale in them, neyther becommeth it them to buſie them ſelues that way, who haue alredie layd all bodyly labour aſyde. But yf they continue in it, and wyl not be withdrawen, then doo they renue the auncient rid: culus example of a Romane olde man, who beyng commaunded by the Prince to ſurceaſſe from labour, for that his impotent olde age at the one ſyde, and his great ryches on the other, requyred the ſame, he was as heauie and ſorowfull, as yf he had mourned for ſome freende that was dead, and cauſed all his houſholde ſemblably to mourne: A ſtrange old man, that abhorred reſt as a certaine reſemblance of death, when as in deede there is nothyng more conuenient for an olde man, then reſt, and nothyng more vnſeemely, then a labouryng and carkyng olde man, whoſe lyfe ought to be a patterne of all quietneſſe and tranquilitie. Thou mayeſt learne moreouer of the Philoſophers, what, and howe pleaſaunt a thyng it is, for vertuous olde men to lyue, as they tearme it, in the courſe of theyr forepaſſed lyfe, whiche notwithſtandyng, the greateſt number neuer accompliſhe
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h, but dyeth before.
Sorowe.
My yeeres are quickly gone, and I am become old.
Reaſon.
Your beautie, health, ſwiftneſſe, ſtrength, yea all that euer ye haue, paſſeth away: but vertue remayneth, neuer geuyng place to olde age nor death. In this moſt aſſured good, ye ought at the beginning to haue ſtayed your
ſelues, whiche at the ende to doo, I confeſſe, is more difficult, but there is no age that refuſeth the ſtudie of vertue, whiche the harder it is, ſo muche the more it is glorious. Many haue ſcarce learn
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d of long tyme, in their olde age to be wyſe, and knowe them ſelues, and yet better late, then neuer whiche although it be but ſmally profitable now at the laſt caſt of the lyfe, and at the very poynt of death, yet doo I iudge it well beſtowed vppon that one houre, to be paſſed without horrour and fearefulneſſe, yf ſo be it were not exerc. ſed in all the whole lyfe tyme before. For neyther was he borne in vayne, that dyeth wel, nor liued vnprofitably, that ended his lyfe bleſſedly.
Sorowe.
I am olde, and at deathes doore.
Reaſon.
Death is at hand alike vnto all men, and manie tymes neareſt there where he ſeemeth furtheſt of. There is none ſo young, but he may dye to day, none ſo olde, but he may lyue another yeere, yf nothing els happen vnto him, but old age.
Sorowe.
I am throughly olde.
Reaſon.
Thou art rather throughly rype. If Apples coulde feele and ſpeake, woulde they complayne of theyr ripeneſſe? or rather, woulde they not reioyce, that they are come to the perfection for whiche they were made? As in al other thinges, ſo likewiſe in age, there is a certayne ripeneſſe, whiche is tearmed olde age: the ſame that thou mayeſt ſee truely to be ſo, the age and death of young men is called bitter, and is bitter in deede: contrary vnto this bitterneſſe is ripeneſſe, which being commended in Apples, and al mauer fruites, is moſt commendable in man. Not that I am ignorant, that many fruites do wither before they waxe ripe, but that is not the fault of the age, but the peru
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rſeneſſe of nature, not of all, but of many, I meane in men, who beyng borne to that whiche is good, doo ſtoutely endeuour to the contrarie. And therefore, yf there be any droppe of noble iuyce in thee, thou oughteſt now to be ripe, and withour all feare, to attende vntyll the hand of the mower cutte thee downe to the ground. That is not death whiche thou feareſt, but the ende of troubles, and begynnyng of lyfe: not death, I ſay, but an hard ende of lyfe, whereunto fewe arriue in a calme tyde, but all for the moſt part naked, weepyng, and wrecked on the ſea. In the middes of thyne olde age, takyng in hand an eaſie vtage towardes thine ende, thou ſhalt be brought by a proſperous gale, through the
troubleſome ſurges of worldly affayres, into the calme porte of ſecuritie. Now is it tyme for thee to run a ground, and moare vp thy weerie barke vppon the ſhore, and whyther ſo euer thou turneſt thee, to thynke vpon thine ende. This ſhalt thou fynde more profitable for thee, then as fooles vſe to doo, to blame good age, and nature, which is a moſt gracious mother.
Of the Gout. The .Lxxxiiij. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Am vexed with the loathſome Gout.
Reaſon.
Knoweſt thou not the nature of old age? It commeth not alone, but moſt tymes bryngeth an armie of diſeaſes and ſickneſſes with it.
Sorowe.
I am greeued with the paynefull gout.
Reaſon.
Thou art troubled in the extreameſt and moſt vile partes of thy body: what if it were neere thy hart, or head?
Sorowe.
The gout ſo greeueth me, that I cannot goe.
Reaſon.
The wandering minde of man, needeth to be reſtrayned with a bridle. One man is kept vnder by pouertie, another by impriſonment, another by ſickneſſe. Fortune playing with thee, hampereth thee by the feete: This is not the gout, but rather fetters, and therefore learne to ſtand ſtyll.
Sorowe.
The gout maketh me vnfyt for affayres.
Reaſon.
Vnfyt I thinke in deede to run, to leape, to daunce, to play at tennice: doeſt thou thinke that thou waſt borne vnto theſe paſtimes? But yf thou be ſo ignorant, know this, that thou waſt horne vnto greater matters, whiche thou mayeſt very wel accomplyſh, if thy head do not ake, nor thy hart be ſicke. Thou mayeſt applie the ſtudie of the liberall ſciences, enſue godlineſſe and vertue, keepe floelitie and iuſtice, contemne this frayle body, and the tranſitorie worlde, hate vices, loue vertues, honour freendſhyp, helpe thy Countrey by counſell and aduice: Theſe are the dueties of a good man, and herein what can fetters hynder thee?
Sorowe.
I am weakned with the gout.
Reaſon.
Perhaps thy diſeaſe wyl not ſuffer thee to fight agaynſt thyne enimies, but it wyl againſt vices, which is as paineful and common as warre. And what knowe we, whether this bodily payne, agaynſt whiche thou fighteſt, be layde vppon thee, for the exerciſe of thy minde?
Sorowe.
I can not ſtand vpon my feete.
Reaſon.
See then what hope thou haſt to conceiue of the reſidue of the buyldyng,
when thou perceiueſt the very foundation to be ſo weake? watche and take heede, that the fall oppreſſe thee not at vnwares: make redy thy packes, and prepare thy ſelfe to flight.
Sorow.
I am marueilouſly troubled with the gout.
Reaſon.
This diſeaſe, as it is commonly reported, vſeth to accompany rych men. Loe, thou haſt an other remedy, be of good comfort, for either the ſweetenes of thy riches ſhal aſſwage the ſharpnes of thy griefe, or ye bitternes of thy pouertie driue it away: and ſo thou ſhalt eyther find comfort, or an ende. If theſe faile thee, that wyl come at length, which ſhall not deceiue thee, which is alſo the ende of al troubles & aduerſiue.
Sorow.
I am oppreſſed with the paine of my feete.
Reaſon.
If thou wylt haue remedy, thou muſt eyther be poore in deede, or at leaſt wiſe liue poorely. Pouerty, which is ye true purifiyng of mens bodies, as ſome ſay, hath deliuered many from this infirmitie: and ſome haue been cured by frugality or ſparing, whiche by an other tearme I may cal volūtary, or fained, or imagined pouerty. Thou haſt ſeene ſome cured by perpetual abſtinence from wine. Thus it hapneth, that payne with payne, and one nayle is driuen out with an other, as ſayth the olde Prouerbe. There is no payneful malady cured without payne. And moreouer, yf thou wylt be at one with this ſickneſſe & many other, thou muſt proclaime open warre; not only againſt wine, but alſo venerie. But what doo I? I promiſed remedies for the mind, & not for the body, & yet notwithſtanding, I ſuppoſe, I haue taught thee the only cure of this diſeaſe. If thou like it, vſe it: yf not, the vſe of fomentations otherwyſe framed, wyll not deceyue thee: For pacience is the moſt effectuall, and preſent, and many tymes the only remedie in aduerſitie.
Sorow.
The paine of the gout hath made me crooked.
Reaſon.
Then art thou vnable to goe, and leſſe meete to take payne: but not vnfitte to doo other thinges, not onely apparteyning to thy priuate houſeholde, but alſo concernyng the Common wealth, yea, & if neede ſo require, of a Kingdome or Empire. Wherfore, this onely ſaying of Septimus Seuerus, Emperour of Rome, is very famous and notable: who beyng an olde man, and muche ſubiect to the gout, when he had bewrayed the conſpiracie of the nobilitie, that woulde haue made his ſonne Emperour, whyle he was yet lyuing, the aucthours of this ſedition, and alſo his ſome,
beyng apprehended, and ſtanding all diſmayde, trembling & ſhaking before his ſeate, looking for nothing but preſent death: Seuerus lyfting vp his hand to his head, At length, quoth he, Ye ſhal vnderſtand that it is my head, and not my feete that do gouerne.
Sorowe.
I am marueylouſly, poore wretch, tormented with the gout.
Reaſon.
Do not be wayle only the greefe and ſharpnes of thynges, but if there haue any pleaſure or ſweeteneſſe hapned vnto thee by them, thinke vpon it, whereby thou mayeſt comfort thy ſelfe in this aduerſitie. Among all the euyll conditions of the common multitude, this is not the leaſt, that as they are whining and impatient in aduerſitie, ſo are they forgetful and vnthankfull in proſperitie, then which there is nothing more iniurious. For why? for example ſake, who is able with indifferent eares, eyther to heare the Emperour Seuerus, of whom we ſpake erwhyle, complayne of his gout, or Domitian of his baldneſſe, whiche he tooke very greeuouſly, or Auguſtus when he was olde, of the weakeneſſe of his left eye, or Iulius Caeſar of his feare in the night ſeaſon, and troubleſome dreames, or, to be ſhort, other very happie & honourable men, in ſuch ſort complayning of one default of nature or other, yf a man may ſo tearme it, or iniurie of fortune, that they myght ſeeme to be vnmindfull of their Empire, and ryches, and conqueſtes, and ſo many and great commodities, and yet to remember that they were men, for whom in this lyfe to looke or hope for perfect and ſounde felicitie, is but a meere madneſſe. To mingle the ſweete with the ſowre, is a peculiar medicine agaynſt the gout, and a common remedie agaynſt all diſeaſes, which thou ſhalt fynde to be very effectuall, and wylt confeſſe to be good and vertuous counſayle, if thou followe the aduice of that godly olde man, who once attayned vnto great proſperitie, and afterwarde taſted extreame aduerſitie: who by meanes of the benefites which he receyued at Gods handes, learned to take all affliction in good part, although that ſame hand can neyther make nor geue any euyl: but he had only a reſpect vnto the common opinion of men.
Sorow.
The gout keepeth me downe in my bedde, as yf I were bounde with knottes that can neuer be vndoone.
Reaſon.
Whyle thou lyeſ, thy minde may ſtande vp, and ſuruey the whole heauen, earth, and ſea.
Of Scabbes. The .Lxxxv. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Am greeued with paynefull Scabbes.
Reaſon.
I maruel now no longer, if thou take in yl part thoſe that be greefes only, ſeeing thou alſo bewaileſt that wherewith there is ſome ſweeteneſſe mingled.
Sorow.
I am vexed with the greeuous ſcab.
Reaſon.
Some ſay, that it is holſome to be ſcabbed. But for that I wyl not cal ſo woful a thyng by ſo good a name, I tearme it a token of health, or the way leading to health. It is but a gentle thing, for that it is not long in comming foorth, whoſe iſſuing is ſomtime ioyned with no ſmall tickling.
Sorow.
The dry ſcab moleſteth me.
Reaſon.
Thou needeſt now no clock nor watch, for the ſame wyl awake thee in the night, and cal thee vp vnto thy neceſſarie & honeſt affayres. For there is none ſo ſlouthful, whom the payneful ſcab wyl not ſtyr vp, and make wakeful.
Sorow.
I am vexed with ſcabbes.
Reaſon.
A baſe diſeaſe, but which hath a noble cure: labour, paine, heate, bathes, watching, diet, theſe are medicines againſt ſcabbes. If theſe wyl do no good, thou muſt flee to the remedie of pacience, which in al diſeaſes is the moſt profitable ſalue.
Sorowe.
I am troubled with the paynefull and fylthie ſcab.
Reaſon.
I denie neither of them. And whereas Publius ſayd, that the ſore feete of one that had the Gout, were a paynefull reſt, ſo on my woorde mayeſt thou ſay, that a payre of ſcabbed handes, are a greeuous buſineſſe. But what wylt thou ſay to this? The loathſommer the diſeaſe is, the comlier is the patience? And how yf out of a ſmall diſcommoditie, thou reape great profite? This is one of the thinges, that eſpecially engender a contempt of this body, then whiche is nothing more neceſſarie for mankind.
Sorow.
I am al ouer infected with ſcabbes.
Reaſon.
That thou art al ſcabbed, I thinke it be too true, and I ſtande in great feare thereof: But perhaps this is more then thou wouldeſt haue ſayd. For thou meaneſt it of thy whole body, but there is an other kind of inuiſible ſcabbe in your mindes, to wit, couetouſneſſe and ſenſualitie, and a certaine vehement uching to reuenge and complaine, which the more it is ſcratched, the more it rageth. This itche ye neyther feele, or craue to haue cured, ſo muche is your care leſſe ouer your ſoules, then ouery our bodyes.
Of watching. The .lxxxvi. Dialogue.
SOROW.
I Cannot ſleepe.
Reaſon.
Watch then, and reioyce that the ryme of thy lyfe is prolonged: For betweene ſleepe and death there is ſmall difference, but that the one laſteth but for a tyme, the other is perpetual. And therefore I cannot tel whether it be not ſayde properly enough, that ſleepe is a ſhort death, and death a long and euerlaſting ſleepe.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt my ſleepe.
Reaſon.
It muſt be prouoked agayne, not by force, but by fayre meanss. If thou thinke to procure it, it wyl not be conſtrained. Goe ſome other way to woorke, geue reſt to thyne head, and trouble not thy minde with cares, and it wyll come vnlooked for: when the minde is looſe, and the body weerie, ſleepe wyl came ſtealyng on.
Sorowe.
My ſleepes are often broken of.
Reaſon.
Do as it is ſayde Auguſtus Caeſar was woont to do: when thou wakeſt out of ſleepe, haue ſome about thee to renue it agayne by readyng or tellyng of tales. But if it be long of earneſt and vrgent cares, lay them aſide, and ſleepe wyl come: of whiche ſort of cares Virgil ſpeaketh where he ſayth, that good cares do breake ſweete ſleepes.
Sorowe.
I can take no reſt in ſleepe.
Reaſon.
Neyther ſhalt thou then be terrified with dreadfuldreames, nor ſurpriſed with ſuddeyne feare in the night. And although Ariſtotle hold opinion, that the viſions whiche wyſe men ſee in their ſleepe, be good, & true in deede it is: Neuertheleſſe, the one of theſe, who was nothing inferiour vnto hym in wit, but of greater aucchorine, & the other in al reſpectes his equal in holineſſe and pacience, whom I mentioned erewhyle, endured great extremitie and trouble in their dreames. What others haue fealt and ſuffered, euery one is priute vnto hymſelfe, and can cal his owne bed to wytneſſe, of the illuſions and troubles whiche he hath ſuſteyn
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d. Truely the one of theſe was woont in his latter dayes to be terrified in his dreames, as it is wrytten of hym. The other I made mention of not long ſince, where I entreated of reſt and quietneſſe: who among other troubles of this lyfe, complayneth of his ſuddayne frightyng in ſleepe, and the terrour of his viſions
and drcames.
Sorowe.
I ſlepe not ſo wel as I was woont.
Reaſon.
Then thou lyueſt longer then thou waſt woont: for thus the learned ſay, that as ſleepe is death, ſo watchyng is lyfe.
Sorow.
Sickeneſſe hath dryuen away my ſleepe.
Reaſon.
Then health wyl bryng it agayne.
Sorowe.
Loue hath banniſhed my ſleepe.
Reaſon.
Thou ſpeakeſt one thing twyſe: For loue is a ſickeneſſe, and the greateſt ſickeneſſe that is.
Sorowe.
Feare hath banniſhed away my ſleepe.
Reaſon.
Securitie wyl reuoake it.
Sorow.
Olde age hath taken away my ſleepe.
Reaſon.
Death approchyng wyl reſtore it.
Of the vnquietneſſe of dreames. The .lxxxvii. Dialogue.
SOROW.
I Am diſquieted with dreames.
Reaſon.
If that be true whiche a certayne wyſe man ſayth, that dreames doo folow great cares, whiche is alſo confirmed by your wryters: then cut of the cauſe of the miſcheefe, abandon cares, and dreames wyl vaniſh away, To what purpoſe ſerue your manyfold cares, whiche are to none effect in ſo ſhort a lyfe, whereof in the begynnyng I promiſed to entreate, and to declare that it is bootleſſe to forment it, and make it troubleſome, and through your owne follie to diſquiet your reſt with dread
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full dreames? Wyl ye ouercome gods prouidence with your owne counſel? and do ye not perceyue howe your madneſſe and couſultations of that tyme, whiche is not onely beyond your iudgement, but alſo your knowledge, are laughed at from an high? Neyther do ye hacken vnto Horace, exclayming and crying out, that God of purpoſe doth cloſe vp and hyde the iſſue of the tyme to come, with the darkeneſſe of ignorance, and doth laugh hym to ſcorne, yf mortal man make haſt and runne beyonde that whiche is ryght and lawfull. Ye ſpend all your tyme vpon your owne deſtruction, beyng ſorowful for the tyme paſt, carefull for the tyme preſent, and fearefull and tremblyng for the tyme to
to come, and ye gather vnto your ſelues your handes ful of theſe ſuperfluous and vnneſſary cares, worthy of your deſertes: by watchyng ye bryng vnto your ſelues labour and paynes, and by ſleeping, dreames. But yf peraduenture, that be true, that eyther the nature of man, or els ſinne conſtrayneth the mynde, beyng free and voyde of cares, to be diſquieted with dreames: is it not alſo as true, that when a thouſand dreames are ſeene, yet perhaps not one of them is true? Sins that we are then deceyued with eyther of them, it is better to be diſquieted with dreames, then to be pleaſed and delighted with them, and to dreame of hurtful and vnpleaſant thynges, then of ſweete and pleaſant. For the deceite of a ſorowful dreame is ioyful, and the appearance of a merie and a cheareful dreame, ſorowful.
Sorow.
I am weeried with dreames.
Reaſon.
Deſpyſe al this foolyſhneſſe, and thou ſhalt take thy reſt. If thou canſt not do that, then comfort thy ſelfe with thoſe companions whiche haue ſuffered the lyke: namely with theſe twayne of whom I tolde thee euen nowe, when thou dyddeſt complayne of watchyng.
Of Importunate renowme. The .lxxxviii. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Am more famous and better knowen then I would.
Reaſon.
Doeſt thou deſpyſe that, whiche the greateſt captaynes, and Prynces, the Philoſophers and Poetes haue wyſhed for? For what is ment by ſo many labours, what is purſued with ſo great warres and ſtudies? And the moſt excellent Artificers do intend nothyng els. This doth Phidias ſhewe in the image of Minerua, the whiche woorke of al that euer were wrought with the handes of men, I haue placed and accompted as cheefe, or ſurely amongſt the cheefeſt, vpon the which when he was forbydden to wryte any thyng, he dyd ſo ingraue his owne countenaunce vpon the buckler of the
image, that it myght both be knowen of al men, and alſo coulde by no deuiſe or policy be plucked from thence, vnleſſe the whole woorke ſhoulde be diſſolued. He onely wyſhed to be knowen for the rewarde of his labour, for yf any man ſhoulde ſay, that artificers do not intende and thynke vpon their renowme, but only reſpect their money, I would peraduenture graunt it in the common ſort to be ſo, but in the moſt famous and beſt, I deny it. There are many tokens and argumentes of this thyng, for they do ſo perſiſt and continue at their woorke, yea with the loſſe of tyme and other hindrances, and they diſpyſe gayne, to the ende that nothyng may deminiſhe their credite and good name. The noble conſtancie of theſe foure Artificers, hath eſpecially proued this to be true, who beyng called to come to that moſt renowmed woorke, whiche Artemiſia Queene of Caria with great coſt and charges cauſed to be ſet vp in the memorial of her huſbande, when as the Queene her ſelfe dyed in the meane whyle before the woorke was finiſhed, at whoſe handes the rewarde and pryce thereof was looked for, yet they continued and went forward on their woorke with one conſent vnto the ende, intendyng nothyng els nowe but their owne fame and reputation, and a continual remembrance of the deede. Therefore al men deſire honoure and renowme: and doeſt thou then looke aboue al other, to purchaſe them with ſmal trouble and greefe?
Sorowe.
Yet truely, I alſo deſire to be famous amongſt my poſteritie, but I refuſe it of thoſe whiche are of my tyme and age.
Reaſon.
Why ſo, when as this is greater, and by ſo much the harder matter, ſince enuie doth interrupt and infert the fame of thoſe that are preſent.
Sorow▪
Becauſe amongſt thoſe that are abſent, there is true and perfect glory, none ſtirreth or ſtriueth agaynſt them, no man withſtandeth them: but amongſt thoſe that are preſent, there is both gayneſaying, and hartburnyng, and labour: For great labour is the preſeruer of great ſame, as one very aptly and fitly ſayeth.
Reaſon.
Thou art eyther to nice or els to ſluggyſhe, which wouldeſt hope for any great and notable thing, without laboure and paynes, when as for the leaſt and ſmalleſt thynges, ſo many labours are to be ſuſteyned.
Sorowe.
I truely do not refuſe labours, but it is weeriſonmeſſe, and loathſomneſſe,
that I hate. For who can abyde dayly to be viſited, to be wayred vpon, and compaſſed about of the multitude, to be ſued vnto, and to be diſquieted and troubled, and in the meane tyme careleſſe and necligent of hym ſelfe, to ſpend whole dayes, and a great part of a ſhort lyfe, vpon other, and to let his owne neceſſary affayres lye vndone, and ſo to ſerue another mans pleaſure, and not his owne turne? The whiche inconuenience and trouble, yf it had hapned at the firſt, I had neuer atteyned vnto this fame whiche doth now muche moleſt me. But nowe it is tyme for me to reſtrayne the notable indeuours of my mind, and to ſtay my excellent affayres it were not nowe inconuenient and out of ſeaſon.
Reaſon.
Truely I do not deny that to be ſo as thou ſayeſt, and though it be harde in deede, yet is it tolletable, yea to be enuyed, and yet to be wyſhed for. But howſoeuer t
•
ſhalbe taken in thine opinion, it is almoſt ineuitable: For what way is there to eſchewe it, vnleſſe it be eyther by pryde or ſlouthfulneſſe? Whereof the one ſhal dryue away the honeſt deſire of thoſe that gladly ſecke vnto thee, and the other wyl vtterly extinguiſh it. If there be any other remedy at al, it is the fliyng of cyties, albeit yf it be true renowme, flight wyl not ſerue, for fame foloweth her poſſeſſor whyther ſoeuer he ſhal goe, and whereſoeuer he ſhal remayne, ſhe wyl be with hym. He that hath been famous in the cities, ſhal neyther in the countrey, nor in the wooddes, leaue of to be renowmed, the brightneſſe of fame cannot be hidden, it ſhyneth in the darkeneſſe, and draweth the eyes and mindes of men vnto it euerywhere. Haſt thou not hearde of Dandanus, a moſt famous olde man of the Brachmans, howe he was often viſited by Alexander of Macedonie, euen in the fartheſt deſattes of the Indians? and lykewyſe of Diogines Ciuicus, who was frequented alſo by the ſame kyng, euen vnto his tubbe, whiche he vſed for an hoſpital, to be remooued and tumbled at his wyl? Haue ye not heard that Scipio Africanus was viſited, in his filthy, forſaken, and baren village of Literne, by thoſe quiet and gentle theeues, for the honour and reuerence of his vertue, and that he was accompanyed by the cheefe captaynes of his enimies beyonde the ſeas? Haſt thou not heard alſo, how Titus Liuius was folowed vnto the fartheſt
partes of Fraunce, & far from the vttermoſt confines of Spaine. vnto the cytie of Rome. Laſtly, haſt thou not heard howe that the holy fathers were reſorted vnto as farre as the innermoſt and feareful dennes of the wylderneſſe, by the Romane Emperours? I ſpeake nothyng of Solomon, but rather demaund what viſitations any famous man euer wanted? Freendes and acquaintance are delighted with mutuall communication and talke togeather: and ſtrangers are recreated only with the ſight, and beholdyng one another. For the preſence of noble and renowmed men, is a pleaſant and delectable thyng, the whiche none taſteth, but he that enioyeth it: this do not thou call payneful, but I graunt it to be difficult, marie therewithal to be alſo glorious.
Sorow.
I am worne and conſumed away with renowme.
Reaſon.
If thou wylt caſt away this fame, vertue alſo is forſaken, from whoſe roote it ſpryngeth: But yt thou wylt not do ſo, then is it needfull that thou beare this burthen with a patient mind, vnto the which many could neuer aſpire with al their ſtudy, coſt, and charges, al their life long: And thou peraduenture haſt attayued thervnto. Suffer therfore thy ſelfe to be ſeene of thoſe that would not deſire to ſee thee, vnleſſe they did loue thee, & thy good name.
Sorowe.
Many bring me into renowme euery where, euen vnto my greefe and loathſomnes.
Reaſon.
What then, haddeſt thou rather to be deſpiſed, and counted an abiect?
Sorow.
Innumerable men do honour me, euen vnto my great payne and greefe.
Reaſon.
Acknowledge then the gyft of God: he doth honour thee, to the ende he might both prouoke thee to honour hym, and alſo that it myght repent thee that at any tyme thou diſhonouredſt hym: For al honour, and euery good thyng, what ſoeuer is done of man to man, is of God.
Sorow.
Immoderate honour, and continual viſitation, is a very troubleſome thyng.
Reaſon.
I graunt this alſo: but loue and reuerence, whiche are the rootes of this trouble, are very ſweete and pleaſant: yf thou wylt apply the taſt of thy minde vnto theſe, they wyl beginne to ſauour wel, whiche nowe do thus diſquiete thee. Temper therefore the bitter with the ſweete, and not in this only, but in al thynges whatſoeuer this preſent lyfe bryngeth, wherein thou ſhalt not eaſily fynde honye wherewith gal is
not myngled, and more often the bitter exceedeth the ſweete in quantitie.
Sorowe.
I am weeried with to muche renowme.
Reaſon.
That truely often tymes hapneth, whereof we haue alſo knowen, that woorthy and diuine Veſpaſian, triumphing to haue complayned, when as he was greeued with the ſolemnitie of the glorious ſhewes, blaming hym ſelfe whiche had ſo baynely deſired a triumph in his olde age, whiche was neyther due to hym, nor of his auncetours hoped for. And although renowme it ſelfe, be not to be wyſhed for of it owne nature, yet it is to be borne withal, and loued, the cauſes whereof are vertue and induſtry: neyther are thoſe to be forſaken at any tyme, to the ende thou mayeſt want this: for honeſt labour, is a thyng muche more glorious, then ſluggyſh reſt and quietneſſe.
Sorow.
I am muche offended with thoſe that ſalute me by the way.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt the Philiſopher Criſpus a partaker alſo of this greefe. Nay rather, whom canſt thou finde at al, beſides thoſe that take pleaſure and delight in the common blaſtes and flatteries of the people, as the Poet Maro ſpeaketh? Yet that noble man hath complayned hereof, I beleue, for that he ſawe how the common and ſudden ſalutation of the peop
••
did trouble his mynde, beyng alwayes moſt earneſtly geuen to ſtudie: for ſuche a one he is reported to haue been, and as he hym ſelfe ſaith, was therwith welnigh brought to his death. But there is nothing whereof thou ſhouldeſt now complayne, that whiche thou diddeſt wyſh for, hath hapned vnto thee, that is, that thou mighteſt be knowen vnto the common people, otherwyſe thou ſhouldeſt not lye ſo open to the meetinges of thoſe that ſalute thee. Thou mighteſt haue hydden thy ſelfe, thou mighteſt haue taken thy reſt, thou mighteſt haue reioyced and delighted thy ſelfe in thyne owne boſome, as they ſay, the which ſome do define to be the beſt kinde of lyfe. But you would faine be knowen & famous in great cities, and therwithal be both idel, free, & quiet, which is nothyng els then to wi
•
h that ye might remayne vnmooueable in a ſhip, in the greate tempeſt & waues of the ſea. Laſtly, it is the part of a proud & arrogant perſon, not to be able to ſuffer paciently ye ſpeech of his freendes that reuerence & obey him, ſeeing that the reproches of your enimies are to be ſuffered paciently.
Of ſorowe conceyued for the euyl maners of men. The .lxxxix. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Am ſorie for the eu
•
l maners and conditions of men.
Reaſon.
If t
••
u be moued with loue tow
•
rdes them, I prayſe thee, but yf with anger and indignation, I prayſe thee not. For what apparteyneth it vnto thee, what other men; manners are, ſo that thou thy ſelfe be good? Doeſt thou nowe firſt of all perceyue the conditions of the common people? Or els doeſt thou thinke that thy lyfe hath prouided to lytle buſineſſe for thee, vnl
•
ſſe thou haue a care ouer the lyues of other men, and ſo thou take that in hande, whiche neyther art, nor nature hath been able at any tyme to bryng to paſſe, wherein thou mayeſt hope for nothyng, but paynes and greefes? Yet theſe haue been the ſtudies & cares of certaine philoſophers, of whom one going foorth into the common aſſemblyes, dyd alwayes weepe, and the other on the contrarie part, euermore laughed at mens manners, and neyther of them without a cauſe: howbeit, that whiche the one dyd, taſted of compaſſion and godlyneſſe, and that whiche the other dyd, of pryde and inſolencie.
Sorow.
Who can abyde theſe vnruly and deceitfull diſpoſitions, and qualities of men?
Reaſon.
I had rather that thou ſhouldeſt be diſhoneſted by force, thou wouldeſt then abyde them if it were neceſſary. Thou that canſt not ſuffer others to be deformed, and out of order, yet ſuffer them to be apparelled as it pleaſeth them, and be thou apparelled as it liketh thee beſt, and ſo thou ſhalt well reuenge thy ſelfe. For honeſt qual
•
tyes do no leſſe offend wanton eyes, then vnhoneſt behauiour, the ſober and modeſt beholders. Let them therefore ioyne pleaſure with their affayres, but mingle thou honeſtie with thy matters The lyght is no where more acceptable then in darkeneſſe, and vertue in no place bryghter then amongſt vices. Why therefore doeſt thou complayne, ſeeing other mens filthineſſe ſhal increaſe thy coomlineſſe?
Sorowe.
Who can endure paciently theſe diſeaſes of mans minde, and cheefely theſe that are enuious?
Reaſon.
Leaue the enuious
men to them ſelues, thou needeſt require none other formentor for them, for they ſufficiently afflict them ſelues, both with theyr owne aduerſitie, and are conſumed away with others proſperitie. Men ought not therefore to pittie thoſe that faynt and languyſhe of theyr owne free wyll, ſeeyng the diſeaſes of the mynde are not ſo infectious, as thoſe of the bodye, for they goe not vnto thoſe that woulde not wyllyngly haue them: but a noble harte, is rather inflamed vnto vertue, with the miſlykyng and hatred of vices.
Sorowe.
Who coulde ſuffer ſo muche pryde and inſolencie?
Reaſon.
Humilitie is ſo muche the more acceptable, by howe muche it is beſieged with greater pryde.
Sorowe.
Who could ſuffer ſo many deceiptes, ſo many craftes of couetouſneſſe? or who coulde beare with ſo many kyndes of luſtes and deſyres?
Reaſon.
Eſchewe thoſe thynges that doo diſpleaſe thee woorthyly, and take heede that others doo not condemne that ſame in thee, whiche thou myſlykeſt in them.
Sorowe.
Who coulde abyde this kyngdome of gluttonie?
Reaſon.
Sobr
•
etie is moſt beautifull amongſt thoſe that are moderate: Where all are of equall goodneſſe, there none excelleth other.
Sorowe.
Who coulde abyde patiently ſo many lyes?
Reaſon.
Yf thou be offended with lyes, endeuour thy ſelfe to ſpeake the trueth.
Sorowe.
Who coulde beare with ſo many tyrannies euerie where?
Reaſon.
Neyther weapons nor ryches, can delyuer thee: onely vertue is free.
Sorowe.
I hate all the worlde.
Reaſon.
It behoueth thee rather, to haue pittie on the miſerable, then to hate them, vnleſſe, as I haue ſayde before, they are miſerable of their owne accorde. But leaue vnto the worlde the manners thereof, and doo thou ſtudie to reforme thyne owne, and cauſe mens eyes that are faſtened vpon others, to be turned vppon thee: ſo ſhalt thou both eſcape griefe, and alſo, when thou canſt not amende the worlde, at leaſtwyſe thou ſhalt redreſſe thy ſelfe, whiche is a thyng that thou canſt, and oughteſt to doo. Thus is there then no cauſe wherefore thou ſhouldeſt thynke thy ſelfe to haue ben borne in vayne.
Of ſmall greefes of ſundrie thynges. The .XC. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Vtterly hate the troubleſome noyſe & cryes of diuers thinges in Cities.
Reaſon.
Then make muche of the wooddes, and quietneſſe of the countrey: thoſe thinges which cannot be eſcaped, why ſhouldeſt thou goe about to auoyde?
Sorowe.
I am weery with the ſtrife and contentions of the common people.
Reaſon.
As long as thou doeſt geue eare to the common ſorte of people, thou ſhalt neuer be at reſt.
Sorow.
I am much troubled with the noyſe of the common people.
Reaſon.
Eſteeme not the woordes of the commonaltie, for almoſt whatſoeuer it ſpeaketh, it is eyther nothyng, or els falſe. But yf thou canſt not auoyde al their noyſe and diſordered voyces, heare them notwithſtandyng, though none otherwiſe then as the bellowyng of Oxen, or the bleatyng of Sheepe, or the roring of Beares: for what are they other, then the voyces either of came or wild beaſtes?
Sorow.
I am ſore troubled with the terrible outrage of the common people.
Reaſon.
Imagine in thy mind, that thou heareſt the ſound of ouerflowing waters, which fal vpon rockes: perſwade thy ſelfe, that either thou art beſyde the Well Gorgia, where a moſt cleere Riuer floweth out of a moſt horrible denne with woonderfull noyſe: or where as the gulfes of Reatis, whiche the Riuer Nar carieth into Tyber, doo fal downe from an hygh hyl: or whereas the Riuer Nilus powreth downe violently, to thoſe places which are called Catadupa, as Cicero ſayth: or where as Hiſter, as in lyke maner it is reported, ruſheth into the Sea
•
uxinum: or to be ſhort, where the ſteepe rockes of Liguria doo accorde to the flowynges of the Mount Aetna, when as the South winde waxeth fierce: or as the crooked and wreſted Charibdis, agreeth with the barkyng Silla in Sicill whyr
•
epooles. Euſtome wyll bryng to paſſe, that thou ſhalt heare that with a certayne pleaſure, whiche thou nowe iudgeſt to be moſt tedious.
Sorow.
I am vexed with the barkyng of Dogges.
Reaſon.
He that hath learned to ſuffer quietly the brawlyng of the common people, can not myſlyke the barkyng of Dogges, for there are
neyther ſo many other kyndes of Dogges, neyther are they ſo madde and furious.
Sorowe.
An vnrulie Horſe, that is alway neyghing, an vnfaythfull Seruaunt, that is euermore frowarde, are not onely greeuous and troubleſome vnto me, but alſo dangerous.
Reaſon.
I haue tolde heretofore, what I dyd thynke of both thoſe kyndes of creatures, and I am ſtyll of the ſame opinion: I adde hereunto ſomewhat, to the ende therefore thou mayeſt auoyde the greefe and trouble of thy Horſe, yf nothyng els can helpe thee, then become a foote man: and that thy Seruauntes may agree and yeelde vnto thee, thou ſhalt bryng it to paſſe, when thou accounteſt hym not woorthy to be lamented, whom thou art well able to lacke.
Sorowe.
I am annoyed with Flyes.
Reaſon.
Take heede, leaſt that through the annoyance of Flyes, thou be made a Flye in deede, and that thou thynkyng a Flye to be created of any other then of GOD, thou come into the power and iuriſdiction of hym that is called the prince of Flyes: the whiche we reade to haue hapned vnto one that was greeued with the lyke diſtreſſe, the aucthor whereof is S. Auguſtine,
who expounding that moſt famous and notable begynnyng of Iohns Goſpel, ſayth, That the Flye, the Gnatte, the Caterpiller, the Shearnbub, and the Caterpiller, and all ſuche tyke Vermine, were not created without iuſt and good cauſe of hym, who ſawe all thynges whiche he had made, that they were verie good. And yf ſo be there were no other cauſe, yet this one woulde ſuffice to abate the pryde and hautineſſe of mens mindes, as it were with theſe weapous. For GOD coulde haue ſen: vnto the Aegyptians, Lions, Tygers, or Serpentes: but he ſent rather theſe ſmall and baſe creatures among them, to the intent both his heauenly power, and theyr earthly frayletie & corruption, myght be the more manifeſtly knowen.
Sorowe.
I am diſquieted with Fleas.
Reaſon.
Take thy reſt in holſome and good cogitations, thynke that no euyll can happen to a man beſides
•
inne: For not only theſe gentle thinges, but alſo thoſe that ſeeme moſt hard and greeuous, haue profited many. What dooeſt thou know, whether if the Fleas ſhould goe their way, too much ſluggiſhneſſe or euil luſtes would ſucceede, & ſet vpon thee? Beleue that it is wel with thee in al thinges, and it ſhal be ſo.
Sorow.
I
am ouercome with the continuall battell that the Fleas make with me in the nyght.
Reaſon.
Why art thou then proude, thou ſhadowe and duſt? Why art thou then hautie and loftie, thou baſe clay? For being ouercome with Fleas, thou contendeſt agaynſt GOD, thou vntamed and moſt foolyſhe creature.
Sorowe.
I am tormented with Fleas.
Reaſon.
Wylt thou offende men, to defende thy ſelfe from Fleas? Thou beyng the moſt noble creature, and far ſuperiour, ſetteſt vpon that moſt vile and baſe beaſt, and being the meate of Fleas, thou deuoureſt men, the king of al creatures.
Sorow.
I am tormented with Fleas.
Reaſon.
Al earthly thinges, were made to obey and ſerue man, ſome to feede him, and ſome to apparrel hym, ſome to carry him, and ſome to defend hym, ſome other to exerciſe and teache hym, and ſome alſo to admoniſh him of his eſtate, and laſt of all, ſome to delight him, to eaſe & recreate his minde, being weeried with affayres, and certaine alſo to rule & bridel his harmful & dangerous delightes, & with holſome grieffes and troubles to woorke within hym a contempt of this lyfe, & alſo a deſyre of a better. If this life were voyde of cares and troubles, how much, I pray thee, would death be feared? or how much would this lyfe pleaſe mortal men, when as, beyng ful of ſorowes & afflictions, it ſo delighteth them, whiche then it woulde muche more doo, yf nothyng were to be feared? For neyther the ſweeteneſſe of lyfe is alwayes profitable to hym that lyueth, nor the pleaſure of the way to the traueller: and it is expedient ſometymes, that ſome harde and paynefull accident happen by the way, that the ende may be the more deſyred.
Sorowe.
The nyght byrdes, with their mournyng tunes, are odious vnto me.
Reaſon.
As I ſuppoſe, it is not the Nyghtingale, which as Virgil ſayth, weepeth all the nyght, and ſittyng vpon a bough, beginneth her ſorowful ſong, and fylleth all the places abrode with her careful and greeuous complayntes. For mournyng is ſweete, and verſes are delectable, and complayntes are pleaſant. Peraduenture the mourneful Shrychowle diſturbeth thee, or els the imfamous Owle, which is not only yll ſpoken of, by meanes of his owne moſt hatefull ſong, but alſo by the wrytynges of the Poetes: which notwithſtandyng, howe much they haue been eſteemed for ioyfull diuination and coniecturing of
thyngs to come here in fore tymes. Thou mayeſt reade in Ioſephus, although they be both ridiculus, that is to ſay, either to conceiue hope or feare thereby. For the ſadde countenaunce of this byrd, & of many others, and alſo his ſorowful ſong, which are both naturall, they doo not ſo vtter, to the ende to declare or foreſhewe any thyng thereby, but becauſe they doo not knowe howe to ſyng otherwyſe. Geue vnto them the voyce of a Nyghtyngale, and they wyll mourne more ſweetely: but nowe they obeye theyr owne nature. As for you, ye endeuour by dotyng, to conſtrayne your nature vnto your ſuperſtitious deſyres.
Sorowe.
The Owle that ſytteth al the nyght long in the next Turret, is very offenciue vnto me.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt hearde, howe that there was an Owle that woonted to diſquiet Auguſtus in the nyght: And whom, I pray thee, wyll he feare to trouble, whiche diſquieted the Lord and ruler of all the worlde?
Sorowe.
The Myſe diſturbe me in my Chamber.
Reaſon.
What canſt thou tell whether they were bred in the ſame Chamber, wherein thou nowe lyeſt as a ſtranger? and therefore they may more iuſtly complayne of thee, who beyng a newe come gheaſt, diſturbeſt them in their natiue ſoyle. But to leaue ieſtyng, there is one reaſon of them all. This is the cauſe that your lyfe is troubled by them, that you myght learne to wyſhe for the lyfe to come: and that your mindes myght be ſetled there, where there are neyther Myſe, nor Rattes, nor Theeues, nor Spiders, nor Moathes, nor loſſes, nor any other tediouſneſſe of lyfe to moleſt you.
Sorowe.
The croakyng Frogges, and chirping Graſhoppers, diſquiet me.
Reaſon.
Imagine that they prepare comfort for thee, and then it ſhalbe comfort. A mans opinion altereth any thing as it luſt, not changing that which is true, but gouerning the iudgement, and rulyng the ſenſes. There was a certaine man of late dayes, who dwelling in the countrey, vſed to go abrode with as many ſtones and libbets as he coulde beare, both in the day tyme, and alſo ryſing in the nyght, to dryue away the Nyghtingales from ſinging: but when that way he profited nothyng, he cauſed the trees about to be cut downe, to the entent that beyng diſappoynted of their greene and pleaſant harbours, they myght be enforced to depart: but when they notwithſtandyng
continued their ſinging there, he hym ſelfe at length was conſtrayned to forſake the place, for that he coulde not ſleepe, nor take any reſt there. Neuertheleſſe, he coulde abyde to lye vppon the bankes of the Brookes that ran hard by, to heare the nyghtly croaking of the Frogges and Toades, in the fennes and moores, whoſe moſt vncertayne noyſe, he vſed moſt greedily to liſten vnto, as it had been the moſt delicate harmonie of Vialles or Virginalles: truely a very ſtrange and ſauage nature in men, and ſcarce woorthy to be reekoned among the number of men, beyng alſo in other manners anſwerable perhappes vnto theſe whiche thou haſt hearde, yet not ſo mad in other vulgare affayres: whiche example is nowe come to my remembraunce, that thou mayeſt perceyue howe great a ſtroke opinion beareth in all thynges.
Sorowe.
I am greeued with the noyſe of Frogges and Graſhoppers.
Reaſon.
They doo it not truely to greeue thee, but they vſe the common benefite of nature. But the ſame offendeth your proude impatience, as all other thynges doo, whatſoeuer is doone or ſayde otherwyſe then is pleaſaunt vnto your eyes and eares. But that I may referre the follie of your errour vnto the auncient fables, thynke nowe, eyther that the Frogges doo renewe theyr olde complaynte, and call vppon Latona their reuenger, in their hoarſe voyce, or that the Graſhoppers doo with ioy repeate the name of Titonus, in theyr ſchriching tune, and therefore thou mayſt ſuffer them to plie theyr buſineſſe, and plie thou thyne owne. Why are ye offended with the innocent lyuyng creatures, beyng alwayes iniurious to nature, and in the meane whyle, perceyue not howe muche more greater the greefes be, wherewith ye torment one another? I ſpeake nothyng, neyther of the ſpoylers of Cities, nor of a thouſande other meanes of iniuryng, of dooyng violence, and of deceyuyng, whereof all the ſtreetes and feeldes are full. I ſpeake nothing of Theeues, that are diſperſed ouer all quarters of the worlde, nor of murtherers with theyr rough and craggie bywayes, by meanes of whom the greater part of the earth lyeth voyde from trauaylers, and the moſt beautifull ſyghtes of the worlde lye hydden
from mens eyes, whiche is nowe a matter winked at, and growen to ſtrength through a moſt wretched cuſtome. Who is able with condigne complayntes to ſet foorth, or with conuenient woordes to vtter the heauie weyght of humane ſlouthfulneſſe, for that alſo euen in ciuile and quiet countries, as a man woulde ſaye, lawfull Theeues be founde euery where, who ſpoyle and robbe the carefull wayfaryng man, that is broken with trauayle, and weeryed with greefe, both of all his wares and money, I knowe not vnder the colour of what moſt vniuſt ryght? Whereby it is nowe come to paſſe, that that whiche was wont to be moſt pleaſaunt, to wander ouer all the worlde, the ſame in ſome places is nowe a moſt dangerous matter, and in all places chargeable and paynefull. Thus your Princes, and Fathers of theyr Countrey, yea, your patience, and your publique libertie, are for a ſmall price become contemptible. What ſhall I ſpeake of your vayne watches, of your priuie walkynges, and all other thynges full of ſundrie kyndes of ſuſpition, and howe the vſe of learnyng, whiche is the onely comfort in a mans abſence, is forbydden? Whiche thyng, for that it can not be remedied, muſt be ſuffered with a valiant minde. Howbeit, as he doth not refuſe to ſuffer the woorkes of nature, who by this tyme ought to haue learned to ſuffer ſo many inſolencies, ſo many cruelties, ſo many cruell outragies, ſo many rapines committed by men: the ſame man alſo ſhall ſoone perceyue howe iniuriouſly dame nature is dayly torne in peeces for ſmall tryfles, ſeeyng that one man is conſtrayned to ſuffer ſo manye bytter and greeuous touches at anothers handes.
Sorowe.
I am plagued with extreame heate.
Reaſon.
Stay a whyle, for the ſharpneſſe of Winter is commyng apace, whiche wyl abandon this tediouſneſſe.
Sorowe.
I am ſore vexed with c
••
de.
Reaſon.
Behold, Summer maketh haſte, that wyll take away the bytterneſſe thereof.
Sorowe.
I am greeued with colde.
Reaſon.
There is ſcarce any diſcomm
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ditie to be found, for whiche nature hath not prouided a remedie. And many tymes there be ſundrie remedies founde for one greefe:
theſe thynges followyng keepe away colde: the houſe, clothes, meate, drynke, labour, and exerciſe. There is ſeldome any ouercome with colde, vnleſſe before he be ouercome by ſlouthfulneſſe. I am aſhamed to recken vp fyre among the remedies agaynſt cold, which is a great argument of humane idlenes. It is nothing ſo eaſie a matter, with a wet lynnen cloath to drawe away water that is mingled with wine in an whole Hoggeſhead, as it is to ſeparate ſluggardes from good huſbandes at a good fyre in the Winter ſeaſon, thyther run all they that haue neyther blood, nor courage of minde: a man may then beholde, yf he haue a delyght to ſee it, our youth, to the intent they would ſeeme fayre, to deforme them ſelues agaynſt the fyre, by making their bodyes naked from the nauell downwarde: for whom how much were it more honeſt and ſeemely to couer their priuie partes, then by ſcorching their thyghes and buttockes agaynſt the flame, to annoy the ſenſes of the ſtanders by, with their loath ſome ſtynke.
Sorowe.
At one tyme I quake, and at another I ſweate.
Reaſon.
I eaſily beleeue thee, for I knowe thy manners, and whyles thou art ſpeakyng, I wyll tell thee what commeth into my minde. The hiſtorie is but new, and ſhort: In Fraunce there was a father and his ſonne apprehended for treaſon, and iudged to be executed, accordyng to the manner of the countrey, by ſtandyng in a Caudron wherein they ſhoulde be boyled to death. Now it was winter, and when they were both put naked and bounde into the colde water, the young man began to quake, and chatter his teeth for colde: but when once the water began to waxe hotte by meanes of the fyre that was made vnder it, then began he alſo by greeuous lamentation and weepyng to declare his impacience of the heate. But on the otherſyde, the olde man perſiſting vnmoueable in both, and lookyng vppon hym with a ſterne countenaunce, Thou ſonne, quoth he, of a moſt vyle whoore, canſt thou abyde neyther colde nor heate? A ſaying truely, perhappes of an euyll, yet of a conſtaunt and valiant minde, and well deſeruyng that the ſpeaker thereof, ſhoulde leape vnhurt out of the deadly Caudron: But moſt conuenient for your youth to learne, then whom there is nothyng more effeminate nor tender, who in the Summer doo curſe
the ſunne lyke the Atlantes, and in the wynter ſeaſon woorſhyp the fire as do the Caldees.
Sorowe.
The ſnowe moleſteth me.
Reaſon.
Thoſe that be nice do alſo loath delicate thynges: Howbeit ſome haue counted it a moſt beautiful matter to ſee ſnowe fall without wynde, and truely if there be any thyng fairer then ſnowe, yet verily there is nothyng whyter.
Sorowe.
We are troubled ſometyme with to muche heate, and ſometyme with to muche colde: at one tyme with ouermuch drought, and at another with to much rayne.
Reaſon.
Some ſay that Alexander was moſt impatient of heate, and no marueyle, for he could not endure proſperitie nor aduerſitie: and contrariwyſe, they ſay that Hannibal could indifferently away both with heat and colde: Why doeſt not thou alſo take vnto thy ſelfe ſome one part, though it be of vnlyke prayſe? He coulde ſuffer both wel, & canſt thou endure neyther? This good doth pleaſure bryng you at the begynnyng, whiche doth ſoften you, and make you effeminate, and as I may truely ſay, geld your myndes, ſo that you dare not onely not abyde your enimies ſwoordes or death, but alſo not ſo muche as the ayryal impreſſions. I crye ſtyll, but alwayes I crye in vayne vnto you, for that I crye vnto deafe folkes. Leaue vnto nature her owne office: ſhe dooth nothyng without the counſell of the moſt hygheſt. You ignorant fooles, there is not one drop of water that falleth vpon the earth more or leſſe then is expedient: and although that euery particuler mans luſt be not ſatiſfied, yet is there generall prouiſion made for the ſafetie of all men.
Sorowe.
I am greeued on the one ſide with durt, on the other with duſt, here with cloudes, there with windes and thunder.
Reaſon.
The diuerſitie of the earth foloweth the diuerſitie of heauen: moyſt ayre breedeth durt, and drye ayre duſt, ſo lykewyſe by moouing of the ayre come wyndes, of vapours cloudes, of windes and cloudes, tempeſtes and thunder are engendred. Who ſo knoweth the cauſes of thynges, and ſheweth hym ſelfe obedient vnto nature, ſhal not bewaile the conſequence of effectes. And although there be great queſtion among ſome, concernyng the wyndes: neuertheleſſe doth not the ayre (that is mooued with no wynde) ſeeme vnto thee in a manner halfe dead? in ſo much that ſome (not vnaptly,)
haue tearmed the wynde a ſoule, or a ſpirit? As for duſt, thou ſeeſt how that among men of valure, it is counted ſweete: which alſo vertue onely hath by dyuers operation, cauſed that as much may be beleeued alſo of durt. Thunder and lyghtnyng, with ſuche other lyke forcible motions of heauen, what be they other then the threates and warninges of the moſt mercyful God? Who truely vnleſſe he had loued man, woulde not threaten hym, but ſtryke hym, ſeeing that he neuer lacketh many and iuſt cauſes to ſtryke hym in deede. That theſe thynges apparteyne vnto the terrif
•
yng of men, but ſpecially of thoſe that rebell agaynſt God, not onely the Poet, who was ſkylfull of the ſecretes of nature, doth ſignifie, but alſo the Prophetiſſe, whiche ſeemed to be priuie of Gods counſel ſayeth: The aduerſaries of the Lorde ſhal feare hym, and he ſhall thunder vpon them from heauen. O ye the aduerſaries of the Lorde, ſtande in feare of the true thunderer, labour to come into his fauour, that beyng reconciled into freendſhyp with God, ye feare nothyng but to diſpleaſe hym. Doo ye this rather, and leaue complaynyng.
Sorowe.
I am ſorie for this darke and cloudie weather.
Reaſon.
No tempeſt continueth long, and after fayre weather come cloudes, and after cloudes fayre weather commeth agayne, and one of them immediatly foloweth another, and that which is ſo ſhort, ſhould be ſuffered without complayntes.
Sorowe.
I am offended with the cloudes.
Reaſon.
This offence is a certayne kynde of warnyng, namely that hereby thou mayeſt make prouiſion agaynſt darkeneſſe, whiche is nowe but tranſitorie, ſince thou takeſt it in ſo yll part, leaſt haply thou be conſtrayned to endure euerlaſtyng darkeneſſe.
Sorowe.
I am troubled with fyre from heauen, with hayle and ſtormes.
Reaſon.
Theſe and ſuche lyke, make vnto an wholeſome feare, or yf ye contemne them, vnto reuenge. Heare this one thyng: Fyre, Brymſtone, and the breath of ſtormes, are the portion of their cup. Heare alſo another ſaying: Fire, hayle, famine, and death, al theſe make to reuenge.
Sorow.
I am frighted with tempeſtes of the ſea.
Reaſon.
Doo not herein accuſe nature, but eyther thyne owne follie, or
couetouſneſſe: for who conſtrayneth thee thereunto?
Sorow.
I am moleſted with darke cloudes, and contrarie windes.
Reaſon.
Thou waſt borne in darkeneſſe, and in darkeneſſe ſhalt thou dye, and lyueſt betweene the wyndes of contrarie tempeſtes: learne to ſuffer that at length, whiche thou alwayes ſuffereſt perforce.
Sorowe.
I am ſhaken with thunder and lyghtnyng.
Reaſon.
Herein there is more then weeriſomneſſe. In the firſt truely a great feare, contemned of none but of ſome fooles: but in the ſeconde, is death. And therefore ſome haue iudged, that none complayne of lyghtnyng but ſuche as want experience. And, who is ſo mad, I pray thee, vnleſſe he be to farre gone, that ſtandeth not in feare of them both, ſeeing that among the auncient Romanes, whiche were a moſt valiant kynde of people, it was prouided by an auncient ſtatute, that there ſhould be no aſſemblies of the people holden to chooſe officers, or otherwyſe, whyles Iupiter thundred from heauen? Howbeit vnleſſe this feare tende to the amendment of lyfe, it is vnprofitable. For what can feare auayle, where there is no redreſſe of the thyng feared? Wherefore, the matter muſt be thus applyed, that although it thunder and lyghten by natural cauſes, neuertheleſſe it muſt be iudged to be a warnyng from hym, who beyng tyed vnto no cauſes, is hym ſelfe the fountayne and cauſe of al cauſes. To this ende therefore doth he thunder in heauen, that thou ſhouldeſt lyue well vpon the earth, and driuyng away forgetfulneſſe, acknowledge the wrath of God, and do that at leaſtwyſe for feare, which thou oughteſt too do for loue. Complayne not a lyke of good and euyl thinges, it is expedient for you, beleeue me, that it thunder often, and it is left in wrytyng vnto poſteritie, that it thundreth very often the ſame yeere wherein the aſſured aduerſarie of God and al godlineſſe, (Domitian the Emperour) died: not that ye ſhould cry out as he dyd, Let him now ſtrike whom he luſt: but that ye may appeaſe the wrath of God with penitent teares, & humble prayer.
Sorow
I am greeued with the conuerſation & mirth of drunkardes.
Reaſon.
That wine maketh glad the hart of man, & that Bacchus is the geuer of mirth, although Dauid & Virgil had neuer ſpoken it, very experience maketh it knowen. And although yt likewiſe be true,
whiche not ſo eloquent, but a more holy Poet ſpake, The flowyng of a ryuer cheareth the citie of God: yet is there more feruent ioye and ioyful gladneſſe, as the Philoſophers terme it, in a fewe caſkes of ſtrong wynes, then in many ſtreames of running water whiche are conteyned within the ryuers: and I confeſſe, that there is nothyng more lamentable then the mirth of drunkardes, and nothyng more vayne then typlers and Tauerners, whom Cicero very wel calleth the dregges of cyties: whiche notwithſtandyng a man muſt ſuffer, or els he muſt forſake cities, or otherwyſe flye from the market and place of iudgement, or at the leaſtwyſe from the ſtreetes and haunt of Tauernes, euen as he woulde doo from ſo many rockes.
Sorow.
I am oppreſſed with reſort and importunate concurſe of citizens.
Reaſon.
It is a ſauage and vnnaturall wyſhe, to ſeeke thy countreyes deſolation, that thou thy ſelfe mayeſt lyue at lybertie: For the very ſame cauſe, as thou knoweſt, in the olde tyme was the ſiſter of Appius Claudius puniſhed, & ſhee that was laſt celebrated among writers for an innocent: and truly as this is an vngodly wiſh, and deſerueth puniſhment, ſo to auoyde the weeriſomnes of thronges and cities, and it (occaſion ſo require,) to depart awhile out of the way, is a poynt of modeſtie, and frequented of the wiſe.
Sorowe.
I am greeued with a long ſuite, and ſlow iudgment.
Reaſon.
To what ende was daying of matters deuiſed, but to ende ſtrife, and to remedie the ſlacknes of iudgment?
Sorowe.
I am worne with wofull and troubleſome ſtrife.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt vſed apte and conuenient tearmes for thy ſelfe: For where ſtrife and contention is, there can be nether ioy, nor quietneſſe. Thou, if thou wylt liue out of ſtryfe, auoyde the cauſe of ſtryfe. Couetouſneſſe engendreth contention, and nouriſheth it when it is engendred.
Of an earthquake. The .xci. Dialogue
SOROWE.
I Am afrayd of an earthquake.
Reaſon.
This is, I confeſſe, a great diſcommoditie of dame nature, and not without cauſe abandoned of al parentes, which although it be more greeuous, yet
for that it happeneth but ſeldome, the rareneſſe thereof may ſtand in ſome ſteede of a remedie. Many tymes the ſorowful countenance of heauen foretelleth an earthquake at hande, but preciſely there is no token nor forewarnyng thereof, although it be reported that Pherecydes foretolde of one to come by drynkyng a draught of water out of a well. Moreouer agaynſt the threatnynges of heauen, caues vnder the ground perhaps doo yeelde ſome ſuccour, the lyke whereof we reade was Auguſtus Caeſars denne, into whiche he fledde for feare of thunder, whiche is yet ſeene at Rome in the way Flaminia, and keepeth the aucthours name vnto this day: but from an earthquake no flight can ſerue, no lurkyng places can preuayle. For poore man (that is made of the earth) whyther ſhal he flye out of the earth? or what ſhal become of hym yf the heauen thunder ouer hym, and the earth tremble vnder hym, vnleſſe perhaps ſome wyl aduiſe hym to goe to the ſea, whiche is alſo partaker of the varietie of heauen & earth, and alſo vnquiet by it owne motion?
Feare.
Thou telleſt me no remedies as thou waſt woont to do, but amplifieſt the daungers.
Reaſon.
I ſuppoſed thou wouldeſt thinke ſo, and doubtleſſe ſo it is in deede. There be ſome thynges that may be diſſembled, and extenuated in woordes, that although by report they haue ſeemed greeuous, yet in effect they may appeere at one tyme tollerable, at another contemptible: and truely this whereof I now intreate is ſuch a one, as by it owne force it refuſeth the argumentes of mans eloquence, but one comfort, as I haue ſayde, is the ſeldomeneſſe thereof. Thou haſt ſeene welnygh an whole age without any earthquakes, duryng whiche tyme there is no doubt but that there haue dyed innumerable, who in al their lyfe tyme, though they haue hearde the name of ſo terrible a matter, yet neuer were made afearde with the ſight thereof. But who is not mooued when he heareth or reedeth, eyther thoſe auncient hiſtories, or theſe of latter tyme, the memorie whereof is extant, eyther in the bookes of hiſtories, or yet ryfe in the mindes of men that ſawe them, when as long ſence vpon one and the ſelfe ſame day, both the citie of Rhodes was ſhaken with an horrible earthquake, and alſo newe Ilandes roſe vp from the bottom of the ſea, and moreouer twelue auncient cities in Aſia were ouerthrowen,
and ſome alſo ſwallowed vp into the earth. After that, the ſame miſchiefe raged alſo in Achaia and Macedonia, and laſt of all in Campania, the moſt bewtiful part, I ſay not of Italy only, but alſo of al the world, much about Senecas time, who maketh mention therof among his naturall queſtions, when as by the ſame moſt cruell outrage Herculaneum and the Pompe
•
j, which are moſt famous cities of thoſe quarters, yea and Naples it ſelfe, was not a litle moleſted, as thou mayeſt reade. Shall I proſecute all examples touching this matter? Truely that were an infinite woorke Of late dayes thou mighteſt haue ſeene the Alpes, which reach vnto the cloudes and deuide Italy from Garmanie (who as Virgil ſaith, do neuer mooue) to ſtirre and quake, and in many places to be ouerthrowne, and immediatly after, the queene of al cities greeuouſly ſhaken, euen to the vtter ſubuerting of the towers and churches therof, and alſo ſome layde flat with the ground. And not long after this, as it were for a continuance of the miſerie, it is wel knowne how that the beſt and moſt fertile part of al Germany, namely the whole valley of the Rhine was ſhaken, and vpon the ſhoare therof ſtanding the citie of Baſile, and alſo caſtles and fortreſſes, to the number of foure ſcore and vpwarde, vtterly ouerthrowen. Truely an horrible matter, were it not that death were the moſt terrible of al terrible thynges. Who ſo hath learned not to feare that, wyll feare nothyng, & as the Poet Horace ſayeth excellently well, If al the worlde ſhoulde fall, though the peeces thereof ſtrake hym, he woulde not be a fearde. For what ſkilleth it whether a litle ſtone fall vpon thee and brayne thee, or the moſt mightie mountayne Apeninus cruſhe thee, to death, ſo thou be ſlayne by any of them? or the whole worlde breake and fall vpon thee, ſeeing there is but death in neyther? Vnleſſe perhaps ſome wyl count that death to be the more honorable, whiche is procured by the greater inſtrument. Wherefore to conclude, this is the ſumme of myne aduice, foraſmuch as we haue alſo ſet downe ſome remedies agaynſt lyghtnyng, and all other miſcheefes are releeued eyther by reſiſtyng or geuing place vnto them, and it falleth out contrariwyſe in this, that neyther flyght auayleth, neyther wyt nor force can preuayle, it were good aboue al thynges to lay away the feare of death,
whiche onely maketh al thynges dreadeful: whiche thyng to do, I confeſſe, is very harde in deede to ſpeake, but yet not impoſſible to doo. And foraſmuch as there is no tyme nor place free from this heauie chaunce, men ought to prepare and arme their myndes with al patience agaynſt whatſoeuer may happen, eyther by courſe of nature, or by fortune, at al tymes and places, whiche cannot poſſibly be done, vnleſſe there be alſo adioyned the loue of vertue, and feare of vice. To conclude, ſeeing that not only the heauens are in continuall motion, and the elementes threaten you round about, but alſo the earth, vppon which you treade, which alſo was hoped to be without al danger, and a moſt aſſured rampire, is ſometime ſhaken, deceiueth, and putteth in feare her inhabitantes, I exhort you to flee with your mindes vp to heauen, and among al theſe ſhakinges and quakinges of thinges and men, to repoſe al your hope in him, who looketh downe vpon the earth, and maketh it to quake, of whom it is writen, I am the Lorde, and I am not changed. Whoſoeuer faſteneth vpon him the footeſtepes of a deuout minde, is ſafe and ſound, and ſhal neuer be moued himſelfe, nor ſtand in feare of any earthquake.
Feare.
I cannot chooſe but be mooued and feared with earthquakes.
Reaſon.
Canſt thou remoone al thy hope and mynde from the earth? Do ſo, and thou ſhalt lyue out of feare, and ſtand vpryght whether that ſhake or fal. For, to repoſe aſſured truſt in a quaking and vnconſtant thyng, is a great follie.
Of the plague farre and wide raging. The .xcii. Dialogue.
FEARE.
I Am afrayde of the plague, which rageth farre and wyde.
Reaſon.
In this alſo is nothyng els but the feare of death, whiche being caſt of, thou haſt purchaſed perfect ſecuritie, whiche feare ought not onely to be layde downe of valiant mindes, but alſo neuer be admitted: for what is leſſe the part of a man, then to feare common thynges?
Feare.
I am afeard of the plague.
Reaſon.
Foraſmuch as thou muſt needes dye, what ſhalt thou looſe or gayne by dying of the plague, but that thou ſhalt dye with more company? but if thou eſcape, that thy life be the ſweeter vnto thee, ſince that thou art deliuered out of ſo great a
danger, if ſo be it be danger, and not nature to dye: for the plague ſweepeth not away al, whiche if it had been ſo, there ſhould none haue eſcaped this laſt great plague, a more ſorer then which there was neuer any ſince the begynnyng of the worlde. But many eſcaped, who it had been better they had dyed: whereof it commeth, that as thou now ſeeſt, the worlde is peſtred with theſe kyndes of dregges as it was woont to be, whiche neuer any plague nor death is able to conſume, they are ſo clodded and baken.
Feare.
I feare the plague.
Reaſon.
Say rather as the trueth is, thou feareſt death, wherof, for that I ſee thee ſo prone vnto complaintes, I purpoſe to entreate before I make an ende of this booke: For, this only exepted, wherefore ſhouldeſt thou abhor the name of the plague, ſeeing (as I haue ſayd) it is rather a kinde of comfort to die with many?
Feare.
I ſtand in dread of the plague.
Reaſon.
If it be a certayne kynde of loue and charitie towardes mankynde that draweth thee hereunto, I haue cauſe to commend thee: for there is nothing more beſettyng a man, then to take compaſſion vpon the miſeries of men. But if it be for thine owne ſake onely, I may iuſtly blame thee: for wherein can the plague hurt thee that art a mortal man, but to bryng thee to that whereunto thou muſt needes come? vnleſſe perhaps thou count this among the diſcommodities thereof, not to be ſolemly mourned for, whiche hapneth vnto them that dye ſo, and thou count them more happie, who are recited by Virgil to aſſend moſt bewayled of their freendes vp into heauen.
Of ſadneſſe and miſerie. The .xciii. Dialogue.
SOROW.
I Am ſad.
Reaſon.
A man muſt conſider for what cauſe he is ſad or merie. Theſe, as many thynges els, may be tearmed indifferent matters, whiche vpon ſmal occaſion may be made good or bad. For ſadneſſe for ſinne is good, ſo that it ioyne not handes priuily with deſperation: and ioy for vertue and the remembrance of good woorkes doone, is commendable, ſo that it ſet not the gate wyde open to pryde: and therefore the cauſes of
theſe affectes muſt be fyrſt conſydered, leaſt haply diſprayſe poſſeſſe the place of commendation: and therefore weygh thou nowe what cauſe thou haſt to be ſorowfull.
Sorowe.
I am heauie for the miſerie of this lyfe.
Reaſon.
The felicitie of the lyfe to come ſhall make thee merie: for this lyfe is not ſo miſerable, whiche in deede is moſt miſerable, as the other is happie and glorious.
Sorowe.
I am heauie.
Reaſon.
Of this miſchiefe there are as many rootes, as there are thynges which you tearme aduerſe and miſerable, of many of whiche ſort we haue alredie entreated, and for that I perceyue thee to be redy to complayntes, we haue lykewyſe hereafter much to entreate of. Some tymes a man ſhall perceyue no apparent cauſe at all, neyther of ſickneſſe, nor loſſe, nor iniurie, nor ſhame, nor errours, nor of any ſudden rumor of ſuche lyke matter, but onely a certayne pleaſure to be ſorie, whiche maketh the ſoule ſadde and heauie. Whiche miſchiefe, is ſo muche the more hurtfull, by now muche the cauſe is the more vnknowen, and the cure more difficult. And therefore Cicero wylleth men to flee from the ſame with all theyr myght and maine, yea with all their ſayle they can make, as from a moſt dangerous rocke of the Sea: whoſe counſayle in this, as in many other thynges, I lyke wel of.
Sorowe.
The thinking of the preſent miſerie, maketh me heauie.
Reaſon.
That the miſerie of mankinde is great and manifolde, I doo not denie, whiche ſome haue bewayled in whole great volumes: but yf thou looke to the contrarie part, thou ſhalt alſo ſee many thinges, whiche make this lyfe happie and pleaſant, although there be none hytherto, ſo farre as I knowe, that hath written of this matter, and ſome that haue taken it in hande, haue geuen it ouer, for that whiles they haue been in the very courſe of their wryting, they haue perceyued howe wrong a matche they haue vndertaken, and that the argument hath fallen out to be muche more barren then they fyrſt ſuppoſed: and the rather, for that the miſerie of mankynde appeareth to be euident, and the felicitie thereof ſeemeth to be verie ſmall and hydden, ſo that in diſcourſe of diſputation, it requireth a deeper diſplaying and examination, then that the incredulous ſorte are aable to conceyue. And nowe out of many matters to geather
one ſumme togeather, haue not you great cauſe to reoyce? Fyrſt, for that you are the image and likeneſſe of GOD your Creator, whiche is within in the ſoule of man, your witte, memorie, prouidence, ſpeeche, ſo many inuentions, ſo many artes attendyng vppon this ſoule of yours: and next, howe many neceſſities doo followe this your bodye, whiche all are comprehended vnder the moſt ſingular benefite of GOD: alſo ſo many opportunities, ſo many ſundrie ſhewes and kindes of thynges, whiche by ſtrange and marueylous meanes doo ſerue to your delyght: moreouer, ſo great vertue in rootes, ſo manie iuices of hearbes, ſuche pleaſaunt varietie of ſo many ſortes of flowres, ſo great concorde of ſmelles, and colours, and caſtes, and ſoundes ryſyng of contraries, ſo many lyuyng creatures in the ayre, vppon the lande, and in the ſea, ſeruyng onely to your vſe, and created onely to doo man pleaſure. And vnleſſe you had of your owne accorde voluntarily fallen vnder the yoake of ſinne, you had nowe been gouernours ouer all thynges that are vnder heauen. Adde herevnto moreouer, the proſpect of the Hylles, the openneſſe of the Valleys, the ſhadowie Wooddes, the colde Alpes, the warme Shoars. Adde alſo ſo many holſome Streames of water, ſo many ſulphurious and ſmookyng Lakes, ſo many cleare and coole Fountaynes, ſo many Seas within and rounde about the earth, ſo many confines and boundes of Kyngdomes, whiche are euerie day changed, and ſome moſt aſſured for theyr immoueable ſtabilitie. Adde laſtly ſome Lakes, as bygge and brode almoſt as the Sea, and Pondes lying in bottomes, and Riuers fallyng downe headlong from the toppes of Hylles, with theyr brinkes full of flowres and pleaſaunt hearbes: And the bedchambers of the ſhoares, and Medowes greene, with runnyng Streames, as Virgil ſayth. What ſhall I neede to ſpeake of the foming Rockes that lye vpon the ſoundyng ſhoare, and the moyſt Dennes, and the Fieldes yellowe with Corne, and the buddyng Vineyardes, & the commodities of Cities, & the quietneſſe of the Countrey, and the libertie of Wilderneſſes? And alſo the moſt glorious and bryght ſpectacle of all, whiche is the circumference of the ſtarrie Firmament, that continually turneth about with
incomprehenſible ſwiftneſſe, wherein are faſtened the fixed Starres? Lykewyſe the wanderyng lyghtes, whiche you call the ſeuen Planettes, And eſpecially the Sunne and Mone, the two moſt excellent lyghtes of the worlde, as Virgil tearmeth them, Or the moſt glorious beautie of Heauen, as Horace ſpeaketh of them? By theſe conſiſt the fruites of the earth, by theſe the ſtrength and force of lyuing creatures, of theſe alſo depende the varietie of ſeaſons, by theſe we meaſure the yeere, the monethes, dayes, nyghtes, and ſpaces of tymes, without whiche this lyfe coulde not be other then weeriſome and tedious. Herevnto moreouer, there is geuen vnto you a bodye, whiche although it be frayle and tranſitorie, yet notwithſtandyng in ſhewe is imperious and beautifull, faſhioned vpryght, and conuenient in contemplation to beholde the heauens. Agayne, the immortalitie of your ſoule, and a way prepared for you vnto heauen, and an ineſtimable merchandize bought for a ſmall pryce, with other matters alſo, whiche of purpoſe I haue deferred to the ende, for that they are ſo great, that of my ſelfe I was not able to comprehende them, but onely through the benefite of fayth: lykewyſe, the hope of ryſyng agayne from death, and takyng vp of this bodye, after that it is rotten and conſumed, to be quickened agayne, and made lyuely, and bryght ſhynyng, and impaſſible with great glorie and maieſtie: and moreouer, that whiche ſurpaſſeth not onely the dignitie of man, but alſo of the Angelles, the nature of man ſo vnited to the nature of GOD, that GOD hymſelfe became man, and beyng made but one perſon, comprehended perfectly in hymſelfe the two natures, and was both GOD and man, to this ende, that beyng made a man, he myght make man a GOD. An vnſpeakable loue and humilitie in GOD, exceedyng felicitie and glorie vnto man, all manner of wayes an hygh and ſecrete miſterie, a woonderfull and comfortable ſocietie, whiche I knowe not whether any heauenly tongue canne expreſſe, but ſure I am, no mortall mouth is able to vtter. Dooeth the ſtate of mankynde ſeeme vnto thee by this meanes but ſmally aduaunced, and the miſerie thereof but a lytle relieued? Or what, I pray thee, coulde man, I ſay not hope, but wyſhe or imagine better
for his owne commoditie, then to be made GOD? And beholde he is GOD. What remayneth there more that you myght wyſhe for, or deſyre, or inuent, or thinke vppon yet greater then you haue alredie obteyned? Truely, at what tyme the diuinitie and Godhead humbled hymſelfe to woorke your ſaluation, although he coulde, yet woulde he not take vppon hym any other then the body and ſoule of man, neyther woulde he impart the vnion of his Godhead vnto the ſhape of the Angelles, but of men, to the ende that thereby thou myghteſt vnderſtande, and reioyce, howe deerely thy Lorde and GOD loueth thee. For by this meanes, as S. Auguſtine ſayth notably, hath he reuealed vnto thoſe that are in the fleſhe, whiche are not able in mynde to diſcerne the trueth, and are altogether lead by the bodyly ſenſes, howe hygh a place mans nature poſſeſſeth among al creatures: Yea, ouer and beſydes al this, he, who by this marueylous and mercifull vouchſafeing preferred you before the Angels, ſet Angels alſo ouer you, to keepe and defende you, that by all meanes he myght declare your excellencie aboue all other creatures. For S. Ierome ſayth, That your ſoules are of ſuche eſtimation, that euery one at theyr firſt creation, hath an Angell appoynted vnto hym, for his defence and ſafegarde. Truely GOD hath a fatherly, and more then a fatherly care ouer you: and a litle to wreſt the ſaying of the Satyrike Poet, He loueth man more dearely, then his owne ſelfe. What place for ſadneſſe and complayntes is there lefte among theſe bleſſinges? Wherefore, it is not your nature, but your fault, that maketh you heauie and complaynyng.
Sorowe.
The baſeneſſe of my byrth, the frayltie of my nature, and nakedneſſe, and pouertie, and hardneſſe of fortune, and ſhortneſſe of lyfe, and vncertentie of my ende, doo make me heauie.
Reaſon.
Of purpoſe ye ſeeke matter to make your ſelues ſadde, when as ye ought otherwyſe to endeuour to the contrarie, that ye myght reioyce in honeſt gladneſſe: But I knowe your cuſtome, ye be verie dilygent to procure your owne harmes. And therefore, concernyng the baſeneſſe of thy byrth, or deformitie of thy bodye, whatſoeuer is amplified vppon that ground by the witte and inuention of any, when as the generall reſurrection
ſhall come, whiche men of vpryght fayth doo vndoubtedly looke for, ſhall not onely be taken away, by the woorthyneſſe of the gloryfying of the bodyes, but alſo be diminiſhed by the preſent beautie, and the ſinguler Maieſtie wherewith GOD hath endued man, aboue all the woorkes of his handes: For, wherein can the baſeneſſe of byrth diſparage the dignitie of man? Doo not tal and ſpreadyng Trees whiche growe vppon filthy rootes, couer the greene fieldes with their pleaſaunt ſhadowe? Doo not the rankeſt Corne ſpryng from moſt filthie dunge? and yet ſo vile an encreaſe of ſo excellent a thyng is not contemned? You are the corne of GOD, that muſt be clenſed vppon the floore of his iudgement, and be layde vp in the barne of the great Maiſter of the houſholde, although your originall come from the earth, and in ſome part it be excellent, and of an heauenly nature: but let it be what euer it wyll, and be the encreaſe neuer ſo difficult, yet the laſt reſtyng place thereof is Heauen. What ſhall we ſay vnto the nakedneſſe and imbecilitie of the bodye, and the pynchyng want of many thynges, whiche are aſcribed vnto the reproche of mans eſtate? Are they not ſupplyed by the aſſiſtaunce of ſundrie artes, and manifolde prouiſions, ſo that they may be rather applyed vnto the glorie of man, then to his miſerie? Whiche appeareth to be true, in that dame Nature hath prouided for all other lyuyng creatures that want the vſe of Reaſon, a thycke hyde, clawes, and hayre to couer them withall: but vnto man, ſhe hath geuen onely vnderſtandyng, to be a meane to fynde out all other thynges withall, to the ende that the bruite beaſtes myght be in ſafetie, by meanes of an outwarde defence, but man by his owne inwarde purueyance: and the fyrſt ſhoulde haue as muche as was borne with them, and no more, but man, as muche as he coulde by experience of lyuyng and meditatyng with hym ſelfe, compaſſe by his witte. In lyke manner, yf a Maiſter geue any vaintie meate vnto his Seruantes and Hindes, he deuideth vnto euery one his portion by hym ſelfe, but vnto his wyfe and chylde he geueth none, ſo that the Seruauntes muſt haue no more then that whiche was geuen them, but the other may take as much as they lyſt: thus is the one ſort ſtinted, and the other
are at theyr libertie. Thus then, when theſe other creatures waxe bald, eyther by meanes of olde age, or mangineſſe, or haue ſore eyes, or fall lame, we ſee they haue none other remedie, but that which is mniſtred vnto them by men: but man, beyng of himſelfe naked, is clothed and beautified, and yf neede require, is alſo armed with his witte: and yf he chaunce to fall lame, or be weake, then he rideth vppon an Horſe, or ſayleth in a Shyp, or is carried in a Couche, or leaueth vpon a Staffe: To be ſhort, he aſſayeth all meanes to helpe and eaſe hym ſelfe, yea though he haue loſt ſome lym, he practiſeth to make him ſelfe legges of Wood, handes of Iron, noſe of Waxe, and prouiding againſt all miſhaps, yf he waxe ſicke, he helpeth hym ſelfe with medicines, and with diuers ſauces he quickneth his dull taſte, with medicines for the eyes he cleareth the dulneſſe of theyr ſyght, in whiche thyng ye haue deuiſed more wyſely then dyd your forefathers, who, Anneus Seneca writeth, vſed to occupy veſſels of Glaſſe full of water, whiche is a game very delectable vnto nature, who is a pleaſaunt and ſweete mother, in that ſhe reſtoreth that vnto her chylde, whiche ſhe tooke from hym, and when ſhe hath made hym ſorie, ſhe comforteth hym agayne. Yea, ouer and aboue this, the Horſe, the Oxe, the Elephant, the Camel, the Lion, the Tyger, the Parde, and all other beaſtes, of what ſtrength ſo euer they be, when they are once olde, are no longer regarded, and when they be dead, they are no more hearde of, they yeelde vnto olde age, and geue place vnto death: onely vertue, whiche is proper vnto man alone, maketh hym that is indued therewith, honourable in his olde age, and gloryous at his death, and not beyng able to extynguyſhe hym, tranſporteth hym ouer vnto felicitie. To be ſhort, there are ſome lyuyng creatures ſtronger then man, ſome ſwyfter, ſome quicker of ſenſe, none more excellent in dignitie, none in lyke ſorte regarded of the creator. Vnto the head he hath geuen a Sphericall figure, and as it were the forme of a Starre. And whereas all other lyuyng creatures looke downe towardes the grounde, he made man to turne his face vpwardes, and to behold the heauens, and to lyft his countenance towardes the ſtarres, as it is notably ſayd of Ouid. although it were ſpoken before by Tully, He gaue hym
eyes, he made hym a foreheade, in the whiche the ſecretes of the minde ſhoulde ſhyne, he hath geuen alſo reaſon, and speache, he hath geuen weeping, he hath geuen laughing, whiche are ſignifications of ſecrete and hidde affections, although ſome doo drawe them to an argument of miſerie, becauſe haſtie weeping, is late laughing.
For as ſoone as he is borne, he weepeth by and by, and laugheth not before fourtie dayes are expired: that thing eſpecially this wiſe creature doth proue, which is ſkylful of thynges to come, not the end, whiche I accompt happie through the gouernance of vertue, but rather difficult, for that he is entred into trauel and the garboyle of preſent paynes. To conclude, whatſoeuer ſtrength is in all other creatures, whatſoeuer ſwiftneſſe, whatſoeuer oportunitie, whatſoeuer commoditie, it wholly ſerueth to the vſe of man. He bringeth the wilde headed Oxen to the yoke, & forceth the fierce Horſe to be bridled. The Beares, that are to be feared for their clawes, Boares for their tuſkes, and Hartes for their hornes, he hath made them to garnyſhe mans Table. The Linx, the Foxe, and an infinite number moe creatures of that ſort, becauſe they were not to be eaten, he hath reſerued for the vſe of their ſkins and hide. He ſearcheth the ſeas with nettes, the wooddes with Dogges, and the ſkies with foules, and with whom hath man nothing to doo? He hath taught ſuch beaſtes to vnderſtand mans voyce, & to be obedient vnto hym. Thus of euery naturall thyng, there is ſome commodity gotten. Thou haſt not the ſtrength of an Oxe, yet thou makeſt hym to drawe. Thou haſt not the ſwyftneſſe of an Horſe, and yet thou makeſt hym runne. Thou canſt not flye ſo well as a Goſehauke, and yet thou makeſt hym flye for thee. Thou art not ſo bygge as an Elephant or a Camell, yet thou makeſt the one of them to beare a Turret, and the other a burden. Thou haſt not the ſkynne of a Bucke, nor the pelt of a Lambe, nor the caſe of a Foxe, yet theſe haue them for thee. Is this anſweare then of a certayne Romane Captaine, improper vnto them that ſay you are deſtitute of theſe thynges, to witte, That a man would not haue theſe thinges, but had rather gouerne them that haue them? And thus muche haue I ſpoken breefely, partly like a Philoſopher, and partly like a Catholike. Touching the greefe of the minde, for ſo the Philoſophers doo tearme it,
the better to expell it, and purchaſe tranquilitie thereunto, it auayleth to knowe what Tullie hath diſputed of the fyrſt, in his diſputations vppon the thyrde daye in his Tuſculans: and of the ſeconde, Seneca in his booke whiche he wrote, of the tranquilitie of the minde. For whileſt I make haſte vnto other matters, and drawe towardes an ende, I ſhall not haue tyme to comprehende all thynges that I woulde: For the preſent, it is ſufficient that I haue bounde vp the wounde, and ſhewed thee the Phiſitions of the minde, whoſe helpe thou mayeſt vſe, yf theſe thynges be not ſufficient. Nowe as touchyng thoſe three thynges, whereof thou complaynedſt laſte, I haue not thought them woorthie the anſwearyng, for as muche as of the roughneſſe of Fortune, wherein the greater part of this our ſeconde booke of talke hath been, and ſhal be ſpent, both the very ſhortneſſe thereof ought to mollifie and diminiſhe the ſharpeneſſe it ſelfe, and nature alſo doth appoynt an vncertayne ende of lyfe, that it may ſeeme alwayes to be at hande, or not verie farre of.
Of the Toothache. The .XCiiij. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Am tormented with the Toothach.
Reaſon.
Thou mayſt ſee what truſt there is to thy intrayles, when as thy bones doo fayle thee.
Sorowe.
My teeth beginne to be looſe.
Reaſon.
What hope is there in the ſofte, ſince that thy harde and ſtrong limmes doo quaile?
Sorowe.
I am ſicke in my teethe.
Reaſon.
Man is a feeble and frayle creature, in whom ſuche thynges as ſeemed to be moſt ſtrong, are weake.
Sorow.
I am troubled with a great payne in my teeth.
Reaſon.
And thoſe thynges whiche are appoynted for the ornament and cheefe ſtrength of the mouth, thou ſeeſt them to be turned into a cauſe of greefe, that thou mayeſt perceyue howe long the conioynyng of this mortall frame wyll remayne.
Sorowe.
I haue nowe loſte a toothe or twayne.
Reaſon.
Now mayeſt thou then conſyder, howe muche thou art bounde vnto GOD for ſo many great good gyftes, ſince to lacke the feweſt or the leaſt thereof, thou wouldeſt thynke it a great greefe and a lamentable loſſe: a right woorthy puniſhment for thine ingratiude.
A ſeruant that hath refuſed his maiſters preſent lyberalitie, when the tyme is once paſt he is ſorowful, and that whiche he would not perceyue for his gayne, it is meete he vnderſtand to his loſſe.
Sorowe.
I am quite vnarmed of my teeth.
Reaſon.
Beyng nowe vnarmed, thou ſhalt wreſtle with pleaſure, thou ſhalt eate leſſe, thou ſhalt laugh leſſe, thou ſhalt byte more bluntly at an other mans good name. The cloſure of the teeth beyng broken, wyl cauſe thee to brydle thy tongue being redy to ſpeake. And if chaſtitie cauſe not thy olde wanton affection to reſtrayne from vnlawful kiſſes, then let ſhame reſtrayne it.
Sorowe.
Nowe hath olde age broken my teeth.
Reaſon.
She hath vſed her libertie: geue now thankes vnto nature, who hath ſuffered thee to vſe that her gift tyl thou were olde, for that ſhe taketh it away many tymes from them that are young: as from one amongſt you of late dayes, the myghtieſt of al kynges, who euen in his luſtye youthful yeeres lacked almoſt al his teeth: but though he ſuffred this great infirmitie of youth, yet afterward as he reported hym ſelfe, he was comforted with a notable ſharpeneſſe of ſight in his olde age, and alſo (whereof he maketh no mencion) with a wonderful quickeneſſe of wyt and courage: whiche is a profitable example vnto al men that are affected with any diſcommoditie eyther of nature or age, that they lament not al thynges, or terme euery ſlackeneſſe of gods lyberalitie an iniury, but aſwage the greefe of benefites loſt with them that art ſaued, ſharpe thynges with the gentle, ſower with the ſweete.
Sorowe.
Olde age hath taken away my teeth.
Reaſon.
If age ſhould not take them away, death would. Looke into ye graues ful of dead bones, where thou ſhalt ſee teeth ſticking in drye rotten ſkulles, whiche at the firſt do ſhewe terrible pale, & gryn fearefully, but yf thou plucke them a litle, thou ſhalt finde them looſe and eaſie to fal out, and in this caſe neyther the number, nor the ſtrength, nor comlineſſe of them, auayleth any whit at al. We reade that ye daughter of Mithridates king of Pontus, had double rowes of teeth aboue & beneath. Pruſias ſonne to the king of Bithinia, in ſteede of the rowe of his vpper teeth, had only one tooth (that is to ſay) one bone yt was matche with his neither teeth, reachyng from the one ſide of his iawe vnto the other, which ſtrange thing was neither vncomly,
nor vnprofitable. But Zenobia ye queene of the Eaſt amongſt al other commendations of her beautie, is commended exceedingly for the ſurpaſſing comlineſſe of her teeth, for that when ſhe eyther ſpake or laughed, it ſeemed that her mouth was ful rather of bright pearles, then of white teeth. But yf thou ſearche nowe the graues of theſe alſo, thou ſhalt finde no ſpecial thyng at al there, for death, whiche is indifferent vnto al men, hath diſperſed and conſumed al. Ye loue your bodyes and mortal members ouer muche, & ye deſpiſe your immortal ſoules and vertue more then ye ought, being blynd and vnequal diſcerners of thynges.
Sorowe.
Now I am quite without teeth.
Reaſon.
Now then art thou without toothache, yea and without any ſuccoure of them, thou haſt no vſe of them at al. Thou muſt grinde thy meate paynefully without teeth, & vnleſſe thou wylt diſſemble with thy ſelfe, thou oughteſt to remember that thou haſt a iourney ſhortly at hande, to goe thither where as there is nothyng at al eaten, but where men liue onely with ioy and the euerlaſtyng foode of the ſoule.
Of payne in the legges. The .xcv. Dialogue.
SOROW.
I Am troubled with a payne in my legges.
Reaſon.
In al buildynges, that is the moſt daungerous fault whiche happeneth in the foundations. For as touchyng al other defaultes howe euer thou repayre them, this bryngeth ruin: & therefore at this preſent there is nought els for thee to do, but immediatly to depart out of this ragged Inne.
Sorow.
I am troubled with the payne of my legges.
Reaſon.
The cauſe of this ſickeneſſe, as alſo of many other moe, for the moſt part ryſeth from no whence els but from your ſelues: and therefore that whiche came from you, by good ryght commeth backe vnto you agayne, ſeeing thou haſt forgotten the counſel of the wyſe man, whiche ſayth, Let thyne eyes goe before thy feet: and I ſuppoſe that that firſt argument of an other wyſe man may wel agree hereunto, and be accordyngly applyed, Ye cannot ſtay your ſelues, nor looke vnto your feete, but lyke blynd men ye runne headlong hither and thither, groping after your way. What marueyle is it then, yf thou ſtumble ſometyme, at a ſtone, and ſometyme at a blocke. This ſure is very ſtrange, that you wil lay your faultes vpon giltleſſe nature. Yea moreouer,
ye haue a great delight to be thruſting in amongſt a company of madde iades, ſo that oftentymes ye bryng away the print of a horſe ſhowe vpon you. Doeſt not thou thinke that that whiche is ſpoken by Tullie vnto one, belongeth welnigh vnto al men? Theſe miſcheefes (ſaith he) thou fooliſh felowe, haſt thou brought wholy vpon thy ſelfe. And ſo it is truely: deceyue not your ſelues, the harme which you ſuffer for the moſt part, is of your owne doing, for whiche afterward ye be ſorie. Thou, yf thou hadſt remayned at home, that is to ſay, with thy ſelfe, thou perchance ne hadſt this greefe, ne found any cauſe of theſe thy complayntes. It is nothyng iniurious that a wandryng lyfe & an vnſtable, ſhould be moleſted with dyuers diſcommodities.
Sorowe.
I am tormented with the payne of my legges.
Reaſon.
If thou haſt geuen the occaſion to haue payne, reioyce to be puniſhed for the fault: yf not, comfort thy minde that is innocent. And if thou be ſory that thou haſt a greefe, yet reioyce that thou art without blame. Howſoeuer the matter goeth, in al thy greefe ſet the ſhielde of pacience againſt the ſharpe dart of payne, which is a perpetual document in al matters of perplexitie, then the which there was neuer yet any medicine more wholeſome.
Sorowe.
I am woonderfully greeued with the payne of my legges.
Reaſon.
The phiſitions wyll geue thee counſel that thou ſhalt lye ſtyl, and moue thee from thy bed: and truely they do wyſely therein, to geue thee counſell to do that after thou haſt taken harme, whiche thou ſhouldeſt haue done before, but I wil ſpeake no more of their counſels, thou thy ſelfe ſhalt learne to thy owne coſt, how their counſels are to be eſtemed of. Notwithſtanding, I wil geue thee that aduice which they vſe to geue, but in another reſpect: For they ſuppoſe that they are able to reſtore thee eaſily to thy health when thou art ſicke, by applying fomentations & other remedies, whiles they endeuour to defend ye part affected from the confluence of ſpirites & humors, whyther thou ſtand or goe. For my part, I would wiſh thee while thou lyeſt in thy bed, ſetting al other cares aſide, & aſwaging thy greefes by laying thy ſelfe eaſily in thy couche, after that thou haſt taken order for thy bodily health, to thinke ſome thyng of thy graue, and howe, and where thou ſhalt lye hereafter: and to examine the condition of thy preſent eſtate,
and to make thy ſelfe ſo familiar with death before he come, that when he is come, thou do not feare hym. For it is death only, that is able to delyuer this mortall carckaſe from al infirmities.
Of Blyndneſſe. The .xcvi. Dialogue.
SOROW.
I Haue loſt myne eyes.
Reaſon.
O howe many loathſome thynges of lyfe alſo haſt thou loſt? Howe many foolyſhe toyes of fonde ſight ſhalt thou not ſee?
Sorow.
I haue loſt myne eyes.
Reaſon.
Of the face perhaps, not of thine hart. If they remayne good enough, al is wel.
Sorowe.
I am blynde.
Reaſon.
Thou ſhalt ſee the ſunne no more, but thou haſt ſeene it, and thou remembreſt what manner thyng it is: or yf thou haſt not ſeene it, as it hath chaunced vnto thee the more hardly in that reſpect, ſo the deſire of a thing vnknowen, ſhal greeue thee ye leſſe.
Sorow.
I lacke eyes.
Reaſon.
Thou ſhalt not ſee heauen nor earth, but to ſee the Lord of heauen and of earth, abilitie is not taken from thee: this ſight is much clearer then that other.
Sorowe.
I am condemned to perpetual blyndneſſe.
Reaſon.
Thou ſhalt not ſee from hencefoorth the wooddie valleyes, the ayeriall mountaynes, the floriſhyng coſtes, the ſhadowy dennes, the ſiluer ſprynges, the crooked ryuers, the greene meddowes, and that whiche they ſay is of al thynges moſt beautiful, the portraiture of mans countenance. Thou ſhalt neyther ſee the heapes of dunge, the ouerflowyng Iakes, torne carkaſes, nor whatſoeuer els by filthineſſe of ſight offendeth the ſtomacke and ſenſes.
Sorow.
I am depriued of myne eye ſight.
Reaſon.
If there were none other commoditie in this diſcommoditie, in that thou ſhalt not beholde theſe games of enormious and deformed ieſtures, blindneſſe were to be wyſhed: whiche although I haue oftentymes confeſſed before to be a wyſhed thyng, yet doo I deny that it is to be wyſhed, for as muche now, as in tymes paſt, there is no hope left thee to runne away: whyther ſoeuer thou turneſt thy ſelfe, the kyngdome of madneſſe is a lyke, and a like exile of vertue: in whiche ſtate to loſe a mans eye ſight, is a kind of flight & comforte.
Sorow.
I haue loſt my ſight.
Reaſon.
And the beholdyng of womens faces. Reioyce therefore that thoſe wyndowes be ſhut vp at the whiche death entred in, and that the paſſage to many vices is cloſed vp: couetouſneſſe, gluttony, ryotouſneſſe, and diuers other plagues, haue loſt thereby their ſeruantes and retinue, for looke howe muche of thy ſoule was taken away by theſe enimies, ſo muche perſwade thy ſelfe that thou haſt gayned.
Sorow.
I haue loſt myne eyes.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt loſt euyl guydes, whiche lead thee into deſtruction. It is a wonderful thyng to be ſpoken: oft times it chaunceth that the lyghteſt part of al the body, bryngeth the whole ſoule into darkeneſſe? Endeuour thy ſelfe to folowe the ſpirite that calleth thee vnto better thynges, and harken vnto the trueth, that cryeth in thine eare. Seeke not for the thynges that are viſible, but for the inuiſible, for the viſible thynges are temporal, but the inuiſible euerlaſtyng.
Sorowe.
I lacke myne eyes.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt lacked many faultes, if thou haddeſt lacked thyne eyes euer: but nowe let vertue and blyndneſſe ſtoppe many miſchiefes to come, and thoſe that are paſt alredye, let them be done away by ſorowe and repentance: and mourne not becauſe thy blyndneſſe ſhal open the eyes of thy minde, but perhaps thou mayeſt racher mourne for that it is deferred.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt the lyght of myne eyes.
Reaſon.
Retayne the true lyght of the ſoule. They whiche haue loſt one of their eyes (as they ſay) do ſee the better with the other. Whiche if it be ſo, what ſhould I thynke but that yf thou haſt loſt both, thou ſhalt ſee very cleare with thyne other two, and then ſhalt make that ſaying of Tirecias the blynde Poet to be thyne owne, God hath blynd folde the face, and turned al the lyght into the hart. Thou mayeſt accompt thy ſelfe vnhappie and blynde in deede, yea quite without eyes, yf thou haſt loſt this lyght alſo, whiche that it is ſo in deede, thy complayntes make me to ſuſpect, for it greeueth a man moſt to loſe that, where of he hath no moe.
Sorow.
I haue loſt the eyes of my head.
Reaſon.
Purge then and make cleane thoſe which thou canſt not looſe, and ſeeing thou haſt loſt the outwarde eyes, turne thee vnto the inwarde: There, beleeue me, & not in the outward eyes, remayneth that filicitie whiche ye ſeeke for.
Sorowe.
I ſee no lyght with
myne eyes.
Reaſon.
Learne to reioyce, yea euen in darkeneſſe. H
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ſt thou quite forgotten the anſweare of Antipater the philoſopher, ſome thyng wantonly, yet properly ſpoken? Whoſe blyndneſſe when certayne freendly wenches dyd lament, he anſweared merily: That ſleepe whiche ye haue a nyghtes, ſeemeth it no pleaſure vnto you? Truely this was pleaſantly and breefely anſweared. For there are many ioyes and pleaſures in the darke, as wel as there are great paynes and greefes in the lyght. But I am onely to exhort thee vnto honeſt matters.
Sorow.
I complayne for the loſſe of myne eyes.
Reaſon.
If thou were to put them to an euyl vſe, thou oughteſt rather to reioyce that the inſtrumentes of miſcheefe are taken from thee: but if thou meaneſt to vſe them wel, there is no cauſe why thou ſhouldeſt ſo lament for a thing comely to ſight only: for thou haſt loſt that whiche was nothyng at al needeful, eyther towardes godlyneſſe, or any holy purpoſe. God looketh not into the members, but into the minde: offer vnto hym thy ſoule pure and whole, whom when he hath receyued, whatſoeuer remayneth he wyl take in good part, for he that gaue the ſoule, hath kept backe nothyng vnto hym ſelfe.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt my bodyly eyes.
Reaſon.
If thou endeuour to come to heauen, be of good comfort with Didimus, whom, being blynd from his infancie, and continuing in his blyndneſſe euen vnto the ende, the holy man Antonius comming to viſite, and perceiuing hym now being olde, ſtil to exerciſe him ſelfe in vertue and godlyneſſe, byd him be of good cōfort, & not to be moued any thing at al, in yt he had loſt his eies, which were cōmon to flies, mice, & lizerdes, as wel to hym, but rather to reioyce, for that thoſe eyes which are common to him with the angels, were ſafe & ſound. A notable ſaying of Antonius, worthy to come from the ſcholar of ye heauenly ſchoolemaiſter. But if thou aſpire vnto ye fame of liberal ſtudies, then behold Homer & Democritus, of whom the one, as the report goeth of hym, while that he ſpake thoſe his wonderful & diuine oracles, ſaw nothing with his mortal eyes, but in mind was as quicke of ſight as Linceus. The other, becauſe he would not ſee many thinges, which (is he thought) did hinder his eyes from ſeeing ye trueth, plucked out his owne eyes: whoſe fact, whether it were prayſe worthy or no, I wil not diſpute, but ſurely he had folowers.
But if perhaps thou conceiuedſt in thy mind to behold ſome picture or ſculptare of Apelles, or Phidias woorkemanſhip, I can not then deny but that thou haſt loſt ſomething: vnleſſe it be againe, from a lowe beginning to be conſtrained to aduaunce thy mind aloft to higher matters.
Sorowe.
I am made poore, & vnprofitable through blyndneſſe.
Reaſon.
Why doeſt thou, blynd man, forſake thy ſelfe? For Tireſias, of whom I ſpake before, being blinde of ſight, was famous for propheſiing. Did not Diodorus the ſtoike, better knowen by meanes of his familiaritie with Cicero then for his owne ſect, aſwage the greefe of his loſt ſight by the benefit of hearyng: when as day and night, as the ſame Cicero wryteth of hym, there were bookes read vnto hym, in whiche kinde of ſtudie he had no neede of his eye ſight? He applied at one tyme both the ſtudie of philoſophie and muſicke, and that which a man woulde ſcarſe thinke could be done without eyes, he exerciſed the practiſe of geometrical deſcriptions, and cauſing lines to be drawen by other mens handes, he diſcourſed on them by his owne vnderſtandyng. Caius Druſus had no eies, but he had ſuch ſkil in the ciuile lawes, that his houſe was euery day ful of troupes of ciuilians: they could ſee better the way to ye court then he could, but he could ſee better the way how to carie away the cauſe, & therfore they ſought the aſiſtance of the blinde guide. But the moſt famous of al that euer were renowmed for blindneſſe, was Appius Claudius, blind in deede, & ſo called by name, who being oppreſſed with blindneſſe & age, was not only cōmonly knowen of the people by geuing of counſel when there happened any doubt in law, but alſo by his aucthoritie & wiſedome ruled the ſenate, and gouerned the whole common wealth. Thou, as ſoone as thou art depriued of one ſenſe, by & by caſteſt away al the reſidue, yea & which is more, thy minde alſo: none otherwyſe then if one that is moued with impacience for a ſmal loſſe, ſhould caſt away deſperatly both his life & the inſtrument belonging to the ſame.
Sorow.
I am blind, & I cannot tel where I goe.
Reaſon.
But thy guide doth ſee, whether he be the mynde, or ſome one that vſeth to direct the ſteppes of the blynd, by whoſe leadyng thou ſhalt not only find ye ryght way, but alſo attayne vnto the cheefe degree which concerneth the noble deſpiſing of lyfe, and the moſt excellent actes of woorthy
vertue: and vnleſſe the ſtrength of the mynde do fayle, the loſſe of ſight cannot hynder any notable exployte. Thou remembreſt what Sampſon in the ſcriptures, and in the ciuile warres deſcribed by Lucan in Maſſilia, what Tirrhenus doth vpon the ſea, wherein yf there be leſſe credite to be geuen to poetical report, yet remember that, whiche is more aſſured and freſher in memorie, whiche beyng done in thy tyme, thou myghteſt haue ſeene it with thyne owne eyes: to wyt, howe Iohn kyng of Boheme, beyng ſonne vnto one kyng of the Romanes, and father to another, who raigned immediatly one after the other, had alwaies weake eyes, and at the latter ende of his age fell blynde. Now ſince the warre which was betweene the King of France, whoſe part he toke, and the King of England, are more then. 42. yeeres, when as being in that moſt ſharpe conflicte in which both the Princes were in perſon, and vnderſtanding that the woorſe beganne to fall on the ſide whereof he was, he called vnto his captayne with a loud voyce, ſayeng, Direct me quickly towards that part of the armie where the kyng of our enimies ſtandeth, and the greateſt force of his whole armie. Whiche when they ſorowfully and fearefully had done, ſettyng ſpurres to his horſe, he pricked thyther with al his force, whyther as they that had eyes durſt not folowe hym that was blynde not ſcarſe with their ſight: Whereas encounteryng the moſt valiant front of his enimies, fighting not onely valiantly, but alſo terribly, he was there flayne, they that ouercame hym both wondryng at his valure, and commendyng his manhood. I tell you of a thyng knowen vnto all men, and which (except it be wrytten) is lyke to peryſhe through obliuion. And I pray you, what dyd it hinder the glory and renowme of this valiant gentelman, that he lacked his ſight? but that whom vertue and nature had made woonderfull, blyndneſſe ſhoulde make men to be amaſed at hym.
Sorowe.
I am blynde.
Reaſon.
I wyl beginne to ieſt, vnleſſe thou leaue complayning: for what els coulde blyndneſſe bryng vnto thee, yf ſo be thy ſtrength remayne, then that whiche Aſclepiades (beyng blynde) ſayth of hym ſelfe, to wyt, that thou walke with one boye waytyng on thee more then thou waſt woont?
Of the loſſe of hearyng. The .XCvij. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Haue loſt my hearyng.
Reaſon.
Beholde, thou haſt one paſſage for tediouſneſſe ſtopped. Many thynges that are tedious, are drawen in at the eyes, and many at the eares, and many lothſome thynges pearce into the minde by both wayes, for the auoydyng whereof, blindneſſe and deafeneſſe are to be deſired a lyke. Notwithſtanding, theſe haue their diſcommodities, as almoſt al other mortal thynges: neither doo I denie, but that there is ſome painefulneſſe in them, but more daintie then pacience, and not comparable to vertue. Where, what the proportion is betweene theſe diſcommodities, it is no eaſie ma
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ter to g
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e
•
ſſe, ſauing, that the fyrſt is more dangerous, and this other more ridiculus. For they that are thicke liſted, ſeeme in
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maner to be out of their wittes, but they that are blinde, are reputed more miſerable, and therefore we ſaugh at the deafe, and pittie the blinde: but a wyſe man contemneth both, and weigheth not what other thinke, but what the thing is in deede.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt my hearyng.
Reaſon.
Then haſt thou eſcaped flatterers whyſperyng, and ſlaunderers gyrdes, a farre differyng, but a lyke euyll: ſauyng that it is ſomewhat more manlye to geue care vnto foule ſpeache, then vnto flatterie: For in the one, ſo metyme is a mediume, in the other, is alwayes poyſon. Wherefore, the fyrſt cureth often by bytyng, but this enfecteth alwayes by tyckelyng: and truely, woorſe is faigned loue, then open hatred.
Sorowe.
I haue loſt my hearyng.
Reaſon.
Now that Arte whiche is reported to haue auayled Vliſſes, eyther nature, or ſome chaunce hath geuen vnto thee, in that thou haſt ſafely paſſed the ſingyng of the Sirenes with deafe eares, whereby thou oughteſt to accompt thy ſelfe happie. For howe many daungers that wayes myght haue paſſed into thy minde? Howe many errours, and finally, howe many troubles myght haue entred into thy head?
Sorowe.
I haue loſt my hearyng.
Reaſon.
I beleeue thou ſhalt not heare the
Nyghtingale, neyther the harpe, nor any other kynde of inſtrument: Nay that more is, thou ſhalt not heare the braying of Aſſes, the gruntyng of Swine, the howlyng of Wolfes, the barkyng of Dogges, the rooryng of Beares, the ragyng of Lions, the crying of Chyldren, the chyding of olde Wyues, and laſt of all, that whiche is woorſe then all theſe, the immoderate loude laughing of Fooles, and their vnmeaſurable weepinges and outcries, and the ſound of their moſt confuſed voyces, then the which there can not poſſibly a more vnpleaſant noyſe be heard.
Sorow.
I lacke my hearyng.
Reaſon.
Thou art deliuered from manifolde deceytes. Men are deceyued by nothing more often, then by woordes: and a deafe man is out of al daunger thereof.
Sorow.
My eares are waxen dull.
Reaſon.
That part of the bodye is a dangerous part, and eſpecially to Princes, who thereby beyng puffed vp with the vayne blaſtes of flatterers, doo burſt manie tymes therewith, to their vtter deſtruction, to the no ſmall laughter of the whole people.
Sorowe.
My hearyng is dull.
Reaſon.
If thou be reſtrayned from talkyng with other, then talke with thy ſelfe, being mindfull of the ſaying of Tully. He that can talke with him ſelfe, hath no neede of communication with an other:
Although a dumbe man alſo may talke with other, to witte, by readyng and writyng. For he that readeth, talketh with his auncetours: and he that wryteth, ſpeaketh to his poſteritie, Moreouer, he that readeth the bookes of heauenly Philoſophie, heareth GOD ſpeake vnto hym, and he that prayeth, ſpeaketh vnto GOD. In both theſe kindes of communication, there is no neede eyther of tongue or eares, but onely of eyes, and fingers, and a deuout minde. Herein therefore, as in many other thinges els, let vs embrace the counſell of our countrey man Cicero, to the entent, that as the blinde may comfort himſelfe with the vſe of his eares, ſo may the deafe with the helpe of his eyes. Thou therfore, yf thou canſt not heare men ſpeake, reade the bookes which men haue written, and wryte thou bookes, whiche other men may reade: beholde moreouer the heauen, the earth, and ſeas, and lyue in ſilence in contemplation of the creator of them all. Herevnto this thy deafeneſſe wyll not hynder thee, but perhappes auayle thee much.
Sorow.
My hearing fayleth me.
Reaſon.
By what tunes of numbers Diapente, or Diapaſon conſiſteth, or by what other proportions they are handled by the Muſitians, a deafe man may vnderſtande well enough. And although he haue not with his eares the tune of mans voyce, or the melodie of the Vialles or Organnes, but vnderſtande well in his minde the reaſon of them, doubtleſſe he wyll preferre the delyght of his minde, before the pleaſure of his eares. Imagine that he doo not knowe theſe muſicall proportions, and that a deafe man be vnſkylfull in Muſicke: yet yf he knowe the proportions of Vertue, and exerciſe hym ſelfe in them, it is well, herein his deafeneſſe wyll not hurt hym. For it is muche better to be good, then to be learned: and yf a man be aboundantly learned and wyſe, he is aboundantly good: but he that is euyll, is alſo a foole and vnlearned, although in booke learnyng he be the moſt ſkylfull vnder the Sunne.
Sorow.
My hearing fayleth.
Reaſon.
It is well that this chaunced not vnto thee before thou receauedſt thy fayth, whiche is gotten ſpecially by hearyng, whiche fayth nowe thou poſſeſſeſt. Whereof complayneſt thou nowe, or what ſeekeſt thou more? If thou heareſt not the ſingyng of men, nor of byrdes, then encline thyne harte vnto heauenly ſongues, and applye thyne inwarde eare to GOD wardes.
Sorowe.
I heare not.
Reaſon.
Then thynke and ſpeake to thy ſelfe, If I heare not what men ſay, eyther to me, or of me, I ſhall heare what the Lorde GOD ſayth vnto me. They oft tymes talke of diſcorde: but he euer ſpeaketh of peace.
Sorowe.
I heare nothyng at all.
Reaſon.
Many beyng very deſirous of ſilence, haue been weeried with long iourneys and trauayle, to the entent that in ſome ſecret places, and bye wayes, they myght finde that whiche they ſought for. That whiche is paynefully ſought for by others, thou haſt it with thee in euery place whereſoeuer thou goeſt. Nowe learne to vſe thyne owne commoditie, and remembring the noyſes and tumultes that are paſt, begynne at the laſt to be delyghted with ſilence.
Of the lothſomneſſe of lyfe. The .XCviij. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Am wonderfull weery of my lyfe.
Reaſon.
A miſchiefe ſprynging out of the premiſſes, then whiche, I know not whether there be any othermore daungerous: for, it is moſt greeuous of it ſelfe, and the next neyghbour and redie way to deſperation. Agaynſt whiche miſchiefe by name, there hath been order taken in your Churches, to pray for aſſiſtaunce vnto the bleſſed Sainctes of heauen, who beyng diſcharged of this earthly weeriſomneſſe, and bandes of the bodye, doo now reſt in the ioyes of heauen in euerlaſtyng felicitie. I doubt not, truely, but that ſome of them are at reſt in deede: but as for thoſe your prayers vnto them, I compt them vayne and foolyſhe.
Sorowe.
I am compaſſed about with muche lothſomneſſe of lyfe.
Reaſon.
All thynges that are lothſome, ought to be abandoned with gladſome thoughtes, with good hope, with the comfort of freendes, with readyng of bookes, & with varietie of honeſt delyghtes, and pleaſaunt exerciſes, and expellyng of ſluggiſhneſſe, but eſpecially b
•
pacience in all thynges, and long ſufferyng, whiche is inuincible. Ye ought not to preuent the naturall ende of your lyfe, eyther for the hatred of the preſent ſtate, or the deſire of the future, neither (to be breefe) for any feare, or hope, whatſoeuer: whiche certayne fooles and miſerable wretches haue doone, who whyle they haue ſought meanes to auoyde pouertie, the troubles of this lyfe, and paynes temporall, haue fallen into eternall: Let our countreyman Cicero ſpeake what he lyft, who in his booke of Offices excuſeth the death of the latter Cato. Let Seneca ſay what he wil, who woonderfully extolleth and commendeth the ſame, and alſo diſputeth in many places, howe that in certayne caſes a man may violently deſtroy hym ſelfe. But the other opinion of Cicero is muche more true, and commendable, wherein he ſayth, That both thou, and all godly men, ought to retayne theyr ſoules within the priſon of theyr bodyes, neyther to depart out of this humane lyfe, without his commaundement, by whom it was geuen, leaſt haply ye ſhoulde ſeeme to refuſe the callyng whereunto
he hath aſſigned you. Yea moreouer, thynke that this was ſpoken vnto thee from heauen, to witte, that vnleſſe God, whoſe temple is all this whiche thou beholdeſt, ſhall diſcharge thee out of the wardes of this bodye, thou canſt haue no entraunce hyther. And to conclude, take heede, leſt that through any weeriſomneſſe of this lyfe, thou ſo thynke of death at any tyme, that thou ſuppoſe it lawfull to thee to haſten it, or ſo eſteeme of any ioye, that it be able at any tyme to ouerthrowe thy heedeleſſe mynde vppon a ſodden.
Of heauineſſe of the bodye. The .XCix. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I AM heauie of bodye.
Reaſon.
Thou mighteſt complaine hereof, yf thou haddeſt been borne to flye lyke a byrde, and not rather as a man vnto manhood.
Sorowe.
My body is heauie, and vnwyldie.
Reaſon.
Leaue this complaynte to Roſcius and Aeſope. Thou, yf thou canſt neyther bende thy ſelfe rounde in a lytle compaſſe, or ſlyde downe out of the toppe of the ayre by a rope, what matter is it? Walke thou ſoberly with honeſt men, contemne geſticulation and dauncyng, whiche belongeth to players. As grauitie becommeth a wyſe man in all his deedes and woordes, ſo alſo is it conuenient that he vſe it in his gate, with great modeſtie.
Sorowe.
I haue a heauie body.
Reaſon.
This heauineſſe was wont to be one of the companions of olde age, leſt haply he that had loſt the fyrſt, ſhoulde exclude the ſeconde: although many tymes, this heauineſſe be founde not to be ſo muche the companion of olde age, as of nature, whereof it commeth, that we ſee young men dull and heauie, and olde men quicke and nimble. But oftentymes vnder a heauie bodye, is contayned a lyght minde, and vnder a lyght bodye, abydeth a heauie minde: but yf a certayne proportion and equalitie, both of bodye and minde doo meete together, that is not to be deſpiſed.
Sorowe.
The weyght of my bodye is exceedyng great.
Reaſon.
Though inuiſible, yet no leſſe is the weyght of the mynde, and firmeneſſe thereof: ſet the one agaynſt the other, and there ſhal be nothing heauie.
Sorowe.
I
am drowned with the weyght of my bodye.
Reaſon.
Fleete then agayne by the lyghtneſſe of thy mynde, and dryue it away, and in laboryng ſtudie, takyng in hande many and harde matters, both to the exerciſe of thy mynde and bodye, and the baniſhyng of all pleaſures. Dryue away idleneſſe, procure thy ſelfe buſineſſe, deſpiſe luſtes, bate ſlouthfulneſſe, loue carefulneſſe, caſte away tenderneſſe, followe hardnes, haue a delyght in difficult thynges, and with continuall perſiſtaunce, vſe thy ſelfe to moderate diet in meate and drynke, and to ſhort and carefull ſleepe, litle ſittyng, and ſeldome lying.
Sorowe.
I am payned with the weyght and greatneſſe of my body.
Reaſon.
Another is troubled with the contrary, ſome with one thing, and ſome with another. No man leadeth his lyfe without traueyle, but euery man knoweth his owne, and eyther deſpiſeth, or is ignorant of an others griefe.
Sorow.
My body is much growen vnto mole.
Reaſon.
If mans name, for that he is a mortal creature, be deriued from the woord Elumus, which ſignifieth the earth, the muſt man needes be oppreſſed with muche earth. Notwithſtandyng, his earthly nature cannot ſo ouerwhelme the heauenly, but that it wyll aryſe, vnleſſe it ſhewe it ſelfe deafe to vertue, and quicke of beleefe vnto euyl, perſwadyng pleaſure.
Sorowe.
A heauie bodye oppreſſeth my ſoule.
Reaſon.
Plucke vp thy mynde, and with great endeuoure ſuſtayne this greeuous burden, and thynke with thy ſelfe, that heauenly myndes doo oftentymes breake foorth out of the burden of the bodyly mole, and attayne vnto woonderfull hyghneſſe.
Sorowe.
I am ouerborne with the burden of my bodye.
Reaſon.
Although nature cannot be ouercome, endeuour neuertheleſſe with all diligence, that thou encreaſe thy ſtrength euery day ſomewhat, and abate thy burden.
Of great dulneſſe of witte. The .C. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
BVT I am heauie and dull witted.
Reaſon.
This griefe is ſomething troubleſome, but it may be muche diminiſhed, yf thou applie thy ſelfe diligently therevnto.
Sorowe.
But I am of a ſlow and dul witte.
Reaſon.
What, thynkeſt thou that thou art able to helpe this griefe with repynyng
and mournyng? this matter is to be remedied farre otherwyſe. Thou muſt abſtayne from too muche ſleepe, from letcherie, from meate, from wine, from vayne fables and tales, from takyng occaſion of excuſes, and yeeldyng too muche vnto ſluggyſhneſſe, which thorowe thy faulte is nowe growen into nature. But thou oughteſt rather to watche, to muſe, to ſigh, to blowe, to ſtryue, to contend, to ryſe, to ſtyrre vp the ſtrength of the mind, to aduaunce thy courage, to put away heauineſſe, to abandone ſtouth, to abſtayne from pleaſures, and earneſtly to applye thy booke. There is nothyng ſo heauie, but that earneſt applying wyll lyfte it vp, nothyng ſo harde, but it wyll make it ſofte, nothyng ſo dull, but it wyll make it ſharpe, nothyng ſo ſlowe, but it wyll pricke it forwarde, to be ſhort, there is nothyng ſo deepely hydden nor ſo ſecretely layde vp, but it wyll fetche it foorth, nor ſo deadlye a ſleepe, but that it wyll make it.
Sorowe.
I am ſlowe of witte.
Reaſon.
Suche as ſay that quickneſſe of witte is a commendation, I am ſure wyll affirme that ſloweneſſe of vnderſtandyng is an infamie. Yet had I rather haue a ſlowe witte and a modeſt, then one that is haſtie and furious: for as in the one there is no hope of great glorie, or of abundance of ryches, ſo in the other there is daunger of greeuous errours, and feare of ſhamefull reproche: For it is a great deale more tollerable for a man to become inglorious, then infamous.
Sorow.
I am ſlowe of witte.
Reaſon.
That whiche men wont to complaine of in rydyng of dull Horſes, prouide thou for thy ſelfe, to witte, ſpurres and reignes, and herein thou ſhalt take no occaſion of excuſe, but rather thou haſt matter miniſtred vnto thee of labour. There are ſome that thynke a thyng ſhoulde be left of, yf it wyll not come to paſſe by and by: but doo thou ſtay, be earneſt, and doo thy endeuour. Difficultie doth prouoke a couragious mind, and labour nouriſheth it: therein doth it contende cheefely, & eſteemeth of that thyng moſt, wherein it findeth moſt reſiſtance. Thou readeſt how Socrates was made wyſe by ſtudie, and Demoſthenes eloquent by induſtrie, & the lyke hath chaunced vnto many: there are not many that attaine to a notable name: report of thinges done, commonly is leſſe then the deſart.
Sorow.
I am dul of wit.
Reaſon.
Therefore thou haſt no hope left thee
of profityng, but haſt founde the neede of diligence. It is ſo muche the more glorious to be aduaunced by learnyng, then by nature, by howe muche it is better to doo good of ſette purpoſe, then by chaunce.
Sorowe.
I am altogether dull and weake witted.
Reaſon.
If thou canſt not ſtudie for learnyng, yet applie vertue. There is none but haue wytt enough to attayne vnto her, wherein there is no ſharpneſſe of vnderſtandyng required, but onely a good wyll: To the gaynyng whereof, ſome haue ſuppoſed that learnyng profiteth nothyng, yea, ſome holde opinion that it hyndereth not a lytle. And therfore certayne, forſakyng theyr ſtudies, haue withdrawen them ſelues into Wylderneſſes, and their ignoraunce in learnyng, hath ſtande them in the ſteede of excellent knowledge, of whoſe ſentence, it is harde to geue iudgement. But of this whereof we are aſſured, accept this my laſt counſayle: Let no man deceyue thee, neyther the woonderyng of the common people, nor the voyces of fooles mooue thee: for it is a hygher matter and of more ſafetie to be ennobled by vertue, then by learnyng. And therefore experience teacheth, that the one of theſe is alwayes to be wyſhed, and the other moſt tymes to be feared. But when the lyght of learnyng is added vnto the vertue of the minde, that truely is an abſolute and perfect thyng, yf there be any perfection at all to be accounted of in this worlde.
Of a ſlender and weake memorie. The .Cj. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
BVT I haue a ſlender and weake memorie.
Reaſon.
This is alſo an other infamie of olde age, as falſe as the reſidue, which thou mayeſt correct by the meanes of ſtudie.
Sorow.
My memorie fayleth.
Reaſon.
Take heede leſt it decay vtterly, and helpe it whyle it is faylyng with continuall exerciſe: Vſe it as men doo Walles that are readie to fall downe, make Buttreſſes in places where there is neede, and defende the weake ſides, by adding plentie of ſtrong ſhores.
Sorow.
My memorie is ſlippery.
Reaſon.
Binde it faſt with diligence and cunning:
induſtrye helpeth al defaultes of wyt and memorie. Diligence ſuffereth nothyng to peryſhe, nothyng to be diminiſhed. This is that whiche can preſerue Philoſophers and Poetes (beyng very olde men) in a freſhe floryſhyng wyt and ſtile: this is it alſo which manteyneth in the auncient Orators a ſtrong voyce, and valiant ſides, and a firme memorte: Whiche, yf it were not ſo, Solon had neuer waxen olde, and yet learned ſomethyng daylye: and beyng at the very poynt of death, when as his freendes ſate talkyng about hym, ſeemed in a manner vnto them to be ryſen from death to lyfe: Neyther had Chriſippus finiſhed in his extreame olde age, that wyttie and profound volume whiche he began beyng but a very young man: Neyther had Homer at thoſe yeeres ſet foorth that ſame his diuine and heauenly woorke: Neyther yet Simonides, of the age of foureſcore yeeres, with ſuche youthiy feruencie of mynde, but with aged rypeneſſe of diſcretion, deſcended into that his Pyerial contention: Nor Scocrates in the foureſcore & fourteenth yeere of his age, accompliſhed that his feruent and wonderful woorke: Nor Sophocles wel neare an hundred, beyng the flower of all tragicall wryters, had finiſhed his tragidie called Oedipus: Nor Cato, that was aboue foureſcore and tenne yeeres olde, with no change of voyce, or alteration of ſtrength, or default of memorie, eyther would haue defended hym ſelfe in an haynous accuſation, or accuſed moſt famous Orators of his owne accorde in open iudgment.
Sorowe.
I haue an vntruſtie memorie.
Reaſon.
Then truſt it not, call it often to an accompt, whatſoeuer thou haſt committed vnto it, requyre it ſpeedely, and that which thou ſhouldeſt doo to morowe, doo it to day, it is not good to defer: and thus yf thou canſt, wreſt good out of euyl. The fayth of a felowe brcedeth flouthfulneſſe, and falſhood procureth diligence.
Sorow.
I haue almoſt no memorie at al.
Reaſon.
Suche is the ſtate of mans condition, that he whiche remembreth feweſt thinges, hath the leſſe cauſe of complayntes, in whiche caſe there is no amendment nor place of profitable repentance, what els remayneth then, then the helpe of obliuion?
Of lacke of eloquence. The .cii. Dialogue.
SOROW.
I Lacke eloquence.
Reaſon.
Thou lackeſt one of the inſtrumentes to get hatred, acknowledge the benefites of nature, whiche inſtrument as it hath taken from thee a great power ouer doubeful ſuters, ſo hath it taken no ſmal prerogatiue of fortune from thy ſelfe, for many haue periſhed through eloquence. If thou doubt of this, aſke of the princes of both eloquence: for as touchyng the briefer ſort of Oratours, al hiſtories are full that for this cauſe they haue peryſhed in euery place: Among whom he is moſt neareſt vnto danger, that is moſt excellent of fame, and beſt knowen. There are ſome vnto whom the obſcureneſſe of their name, hath been the caſtle of their defence. But admit that they whiche are eloquent be out of danger, yet neuer want they trauayle. In al the worlde there is nothing ſo vayne, for whiche ſo many labours, ſo long watchynges are willyngly vndertaken: this flickering breath ſo exerciſeth mens mindes, as though there were ſome vertue in their wordes.
Sorow.
I haue no eloquence.
Reaſon.
But thou haſt much ſecuritie, whiche perhappes thou ſhouldeſt not haue, yf thou hadſt muche eloquence: for many had lyued more ſafely in their lyfe, yf ſo be they had lyued not ſo eminent in fame.
Sorow.
I haue no eloquence at al.
Reaſon.
Then ſee that thou haue ſome wyt, ſome innocencie, ſome vertue: For eloquence belongeth but to a fewe perſons, but vertue vnto al. Let not the notable rareneſſe of Poetes, or of Orators, which is more geaſon, drawe thee away: yea rather beholde howe ſodenly I change my mynde, yf rareneſſe allure thee, folowe this, for it is the way vnto it. It is a beauie caſe, that as there is nothyng more better then vertue, ſo there is nothyng more rare. Eloquence it ſelfe, whiche I ſayde belongeth vnto fewe, is muche more frequented then vertue: ſo ſtandeth the caſe, that that whiche al may vſe, al doo neglect, and that whiche very fewe can atteyne vnto, all men deſire, all men do practiſe.
Sorow.
I am voyde of wordes.
Reaſon.
Apply thy mind vnto deedes: For in toordes there is breath, & labour, and ſpeeche, and in deedes, quietneſſe, vertue, and felicitie.
Sorow.
I cannot ſpeake.
Reaſon.
Many that knowe lytle in a matter, wyl take muche vpon them. Set a foole on horſebacke, or one that hath no ſkyl to ryde, and thou ſhalt haue muche a do to get hym downe a gayne: let ſhame at the length put thee to ſilence, yf nothyng els wyl cauſe thee to holde thy peace: and though thou knoweſt not howe to ſpeake that other may heare thee, yet learne to heare other men when they do ſpeake. There is no leſſe cunning to hold a mans peace then to ſpeake, although to be ſilent it be a more ſafe and eaſie matter.
Sorow.
I cannot expreſſe that whiche is in my hart.
Reaſon.
If thou haue a good vnderſtandyng and art endued with an high & magnifical ſenſe of the mynde, and haue not thereunto a pleaſant voyce and reedie tongue, be contented: Aſſaye not often to do that which hath but euyl ſucceſſe with thee. What is there then to be done? Vſe that good whiche thou haſt, not onely indifferently, but alſo merily: leaue that vnto another man, whiche is another mans, and ſpende not thy ſpeeche, nor weery not thy tongue in vayne. Suffer, I ſay, other men to ſpeake, & vnderſtand thou, forſomuch as there is a more ſecrete, and delicate pleaſure in the meditation of the minde, then in the vtterance of the tongue, beyng both of longer continuance, & alſo hauing in it more quietneſſe, & leſſe enuie.
Sorowe.
Shame reſtrayneth me from ſpeaking before many.
Reaſon.
It is wel knowen, that this hath chaunced vnto men of great eſtimation, for want of audacitie, & not by the default eyther of yt tongue or wyt. That which thou refuſeſt to ſpeake before many, do it before a few, & in the preſence of one: & although I confeſſe yt the open ſpeeches be moſt famous, yet canſt thou not deny but that priuat talke is more ſweete. If thou canſt not do ſo neyther, then returne to thy ſelfe, common with thy ſelfe, as I haue admoniſhed thee before, & awake yt domeſtical talking cōpanion: for he is alwaies preſēt with thee, he wil not lye in wayte for thee, he wyl not mocke thee, he wil not enuie thee, he wyl not loath thee, he wil not looke for any exact or labourſome eloquence of thee, he is pleaſed with familiar talke, and enterrupted ſpeeches, yea & ofttimes when thou haſt ſaid much, he is contented that thou hold thy peace. Learne thou to content thy ſelfe with his preſence only, who taketh no regard how, but what thou ſpeakeſt, or rather
what thou wouldeſt ſpeake. Learne to build vp a moſt honeſt theater, euen in the middeſt of thine hart. Learne, not to ſeeke after the pompe and glory of men, but of the trueth, and to reioyce oftetimes without any noyſe of the people, and let modeſtie deſpyſe that, whiche perfect eloquence doth moſt tymes cleane extinguiſhe. To be ſhort, learne not to lyue to the ſhewe, learne not to ſpeake with pryde, then the whiche there is no greater miſcheefe in the whole lyfe of man to be founde.
Sorowe.
I haue an impediment in my ſpeeche.
Reaſon.
Doeſt thou lament that thou haſt ſome thyng lyke as Moyſes had, beyng ſo woorthy a man as he was, and ſo familiar with God? But yf thou looke into old hyſtories, or marke the examples of latter tyme, and in theſe dayes, howe many good men ſhalt thou finde that had impedimentes in their ſpeeche, and howe many wycked that were very eloquent? So are there very fewe vnto whom both theſe haue happened, to wit, ſinguler eloquence, and excellent vertue.
Of loſſe of the tongue and ſpeeche. The .ciii. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
WHat ſayeſt thou, that I haue loſt both my tongue & my ſpeeche alſo?
Reaſon.
What if thou haue founde ſecuricie & reſt? How many doth the tongue beate downe and ouerthrowe that are gyltleſſe of doing any harme? It is a foolyſhe pleaſure, but truely very common of ſome that would ſeeme to haue done that whiche they neyther do, nor can doo. He lyed that ſayde he had ſtayne the kyng of the Iſraelites and his ſonne, and yet being innocent of the deede was puniſhed for his lye, when he had eſcaped the danger of the battel. How great labour it is to ſpeake, to anſwere, to faigne, to lye, to ſmooth vp wordes, to wey ſentences, to bethynke howe and what to ſpeake, and ſweetely to beate the ayre, for ſo they deſire a voyce, and after what ſort thou oughteſt to moue, not ouly thy tongue, but alſo thy whole body, for euen vnto this poynt there is one part of Rethorique doth reache: howe when thou muſeſt, thou muſt looke downe on the grounde, whiche
hande, and alſo whether thou muſt thruſt it foorth, with whiche foote thou muſt ſtampe on the ground. Is not (thinkeſt thou) this fineneſſe troubleſome inough, and to take the paynes to learne ſome indifferent ſight in muſicke, that thou mayeſt thereby ſound thy woordes the more ſweetly? is it not in very deede then a labour to ſpeake, and a quietneſſe to holde a mans peace?
Sorow.
I can ſpeake to no purpoſe.
Reaſon.
Thoſe thynges which I ſayde in the lacke of eloquence, may more aptly be repeated in the loſſe of the tongue. Then ſince thou canſt not ſpeake, hold thy peace, and that whiche neceſſitie byddeth thee to do, do it wyllyngly. Whiche thyng, they that can ſpeake myght do many tymes more profitably, and repeate them often that they haue not donne ſo. Holde thy peace, I ſay, and thinke not that thou ſuſtayneſt any loſſe: thinke with thy lelfe ſecretly, and ſpeake with thy ſelfe in priuitie, whiche to be better then to ſpeake in open aſſembly, they that are eloquent cannot deny.
Sorowe.
I am fallen dumbe.
Reaſon.
If Cicero and Demoſthenes had been dumbe, they had lyued longer, and dyed a more gentle death.
Sorow.
I haue quite loſt the vſe of my tongue.
Reaſon.
And the cuſtome of lying, and the artes of deceyuing, and the inſtrument of purchaſing enmitie and infamie: for many are become more infamous for their tongue, then for their deedes. There is no part of the body reedier to hurt, and harder to bridle. Therefore, not without cauſe (as ſome great and rare matter) vttered he thoſe woordes, who ſayde, I wyl looke vnto my wayes that I offende not with my tongue. Whiche when a certayne holy man, who came to the ſtudie of diuinitie had hearde, is reported to haue departed away, and that he would heare no more thereof. And when as, after a long ſeaſon, his maiſter marueylyng, demaunded of hym why he had been ſo long abſent from his ſtudie whiche he had begun: he auſweared, that the very firſt worde had geuen hym enough to do, and that he could not fulfyl that one poynt by any his labour or traueyl whatſoeuer. See thou deſpiſe not this gouernment nor bridle, whiche is offered vnto thee eyther by nature or fortune, but wyllyngly yelde thy ſelfe to be ruled, and ſpurne not agaynſt thine owne deſtinie.
Sorow.
I haue loſt my tongue.
Reaſon.
Nowe kepe thou with al diligence
that which the wyſe man wylleth thee, to wyt, thyne hart, and beyng called from two careful watchynges vnto one, and diſcharged from the one moitie of thy labour, thou mayeſt the more eaſily keepe a fewe, and more warely guard precious thynges.
Sorow.
I haue loſt my tongue.
Reaſon.
In a certayne fewe men this is a noble and excellent member, but in the greater ſort of the people, very peſtilent and noyſome, and a great deale better that many had wanted it. Whiche is not only ſeene to be true in a ſeruant, in that the Satirike Poet ſayth, The tongue is the worſt part of an euyl ſeruant, but alſo in many free perſons, vnto whom nature hath geuen nothing woorſe then their tongue. Warres, deceites, adulteries, and al kynde of abuſes (for the moſt part) ſhould ſurceaſſe, dyd not the tongue caſt abrode and nouryſhe their euyl ſeedes.
Sorow.
I haue loſt my tongue.
Reaſon.
If an euyll one, thou haſt gayned much: For it is great ryches, to be poore in wyckedneſſe. Who ſo hath not theſe, is borne ryche, but who ſo looſeth them, is made ryche, and his lyuing beyng encreaſed with a newe reuenewe, hath founde that by looſing, whiche he had loſt by findyng. But yf thou haue loſt a good tongue, I ſay agayne keepe thy hart. Thou haſt loſt that wherewith thou mighteſt pleaſe men, keepe that wherewith thou mayeſt pleaſe God: vnto whom yf thou canſt not ſpeake with thy tongue, yet talke vnto hym with thy hart. For yf it be written of the wycked, Lying lyppes are in their hart, and with their hart they haue ſpoken: why are not godly lyppes in the hart of the ryghteous, that they alſo may ſpeake in their hart, whereas are the eares of God? And that is true, whiche the ſame man wrytech in an other place, My mouth is not hydden from thee, whiche thou madeſt in ſecret. For there is no thought, be it neuer ſo ſecrete, that is hidden from God, neyther heareth he leſſe them that ſpeake ſoftly, then thoſe that crye aloude: yea, he heareth no clamour, be it more or leſſe, before the clamour and crying out of the hart, for he harkeneth vnto none but that, and he is delited with ſilence. This clamour, dyd he that was firſt a keeper of ſheepe, and afterwarde
a moſt famous ſhepheard of the people of God, reſtrayne within the cloſure of his lyppes, who deſerued to heare the voyce of God ſaying vnto hym, Why cryeſt thou vnto me? He ſpake not, but he cryed, yea he ſpake, but it was with the hart. And lyke as he that heareth God is not deafe, ſo he whom God heareth is not dumbe.
Of want of vertue. The .ciiii. Dialogue.
SOROW.
BVt I am without vertue.
Reaſon.
An hurt in deede, a iuſt ſorowe, ſauing that al other wantes may happen to be eyther natural, or caſual, or violent, but this doubtleſſe is voluntarie. For other are eyther in the body, or in the wyt, or in the memory, or in the ſpeech, or in ſome outwarde thyng one or other, al which happen not accordyng as a man woulde wyſhe, but as euery mans fortune chaunceth: but this onely conſiſteth in will, whiche euery one guydeth and diſpoſeth at his owne pleaſure. For a man can require none other good wyll of another man, then he is diſpoſed to ſhewe whoſe wyll it is, wherby he wylleth this thing or that thyng. Otherwyſe, as defectes happen vnto men, of ſtrength, or of ſpeeche, or of ryches agaynſt their willes, ſo ſhoulde of their wylles alſo: neyther ſhoulde vertue deſerue rewarde, nor vice merite puniſhment. But nowe, not a wyl vnto you to do this or that, but a libertie to choſe this or that was geuen you at your byrth, whiche beyng applyed vnto that whiche is good, maketh you good, but conuerted vnto euill, maketh you euyll. The ſame may you vſe as you luſt, and yf you luſt ye may vſe it well, whiche doubtleſſe is the gyft of God, as yf ye abuſe it, it is a great peruerſitie of the wyller: but it cannot be otherwyſe choſen, but that a good wyll is the roote of vertue, as an euyl wyll is the roote of vice. And thus there is none that ſuffereth a
want of vertue, but he that wyl, for that the greateſt & cheefeſt part of vertue conſiſteth in ye wil.
Sorow.
Yea I would haue vertue, but I cannot get it.
Reaſon.
Many there be, that thinke they woulde haue that whiche they wyl not, and that they woulde that whiche they wyl: thus euery one deceiueth hym ſelfe, and endeuoureth to perſwade not onely hym ſelfe but others, that he is deſirous of good, neyther perſwadeth any more eaſily how delectable true vertue is, ſince that the falſe opinion of vertue ſo muche deliteth, that it is pleaſant vnto hym to deceyue the people, and his freendes, and moreouer by them to be deceyued.
Sorow.
I knowe that I would fayne, but I cannot be good.
Reaſon.
Admit it be ſo, it ſufficeth not to haue a will, vnleſſe thou haue alſo a deſire, and that not indifferent, but vehement. But you moſt greedily deſire your owne harmes, and coldly your commodities: whereby it commeth to paſſe, that there be many ryche, but very fewe good. For what marueyle is it, yf your feruent intention attayne ſooner to the thing ye wyſhe, then your ſlowe wyl?
Sorow.
I woulde be good yf I coulde.
Reaſon.
Endeuour, for thou mayeſt, and yf thou wouldeſt vnfainedly, begyn now, but eſchewe ſlouthfulneſſe. For yf the ſmalleſt thinges be not
••
gotten for nought, what mayeſt thou hope of vertue, then whiche there is nothyng greater, nor hygher among the affayres of men? Imagine not of her as of a ſtep out of the way from cares, but as of the redie and onely paſſage vnto felicitie. Be at leaſure vnto her, and folowe after her with al thy force and poſſible myght of thy mynde, and applye not ſome part of thy leaſure vnto her, as yf it were vnto ſome certayne exerciſe, but as vnto that whiche is the ordinarie duetie of lyfe, whiche wyl make thee bleſſed, and that thou ſhalt want nothing. Employ al thy time, and thy whole ſtudy, which thou haſt often beſtowed vpon moſt vyle thynges, and cal to thy remembrance that more holeſome & effectual (then fine) ſaying of Marcus Varro in his booke of Satires: If thou haddeſt
ſayth he, beſtowed the twelfth part of thy payne in the ſtudie of Philoſophie, whiche thou haſt employed in ouerſeeing thy baker that he myght make thee good bread, thou haddeſt eare this tyme been good. Whiche I would haue thee to vnderſtande thus, not that thou acknowledge thy ſelfe to be indebted for thy health vnto
the earthly Philoſophie, whiche promiſeth a continuance by frequentation of the actions, which howe muche it is to be credited, they that haue experimented doo knowe: but rather vnto the heauenly wyſedome, whiche is a moſt excellent preſeruer, and alſo the counſayles and aydes of vertue, and the health whiche thereby is purchaſed: and thou muſt alſo acknowledge with duetiful confeſſion, and a thankefull minde, that to be true whiche is written, No man can lyue continually, vnleſſe it be geuen hym of God. And this is a poynt of wyſedome, to knowe whoſe gyft it is, whiche, thynke to be ſpoken vnto thee by name, and it may be lykewyſe applyed vnto all vertues.
Sorowe.
I deſyre very much to be good, but I am not.
Reaſon.
Whether thou doo earneſtly deſyre or not, the effect wyll prooue: Continuance is a token of a feruent good wyll. For whether vertue be the free gyfte of God, (and truly that heauenly geuer ſcarſly beſtoweth it vpon any but ſuche as conſtantly deſyre it, and earneſtly require it in hartie prayer:) or whether in ſo great a matter any part of humane wyſedome be of force, truely ſo weyghtie a thyng requireth both earneſt intention, and long and continual exerciſe. For that which is gotten by ſtudie, commeth not ſuddenly, ſo that, which way ſo euer thou turne thy ſelfe, thou oughteſt to haue a perſeueryng minde. Wherefore, omitting and neglecting all other thynges, applie theſe matters, whiche thou ſhalt the more couragiouſly, yf thou beare in minde, and haue alwayes written before thine eyes, that to this ende, and none other, thou cameſt into this earthly habitation, and that this one thyng is required of thee, that by the ſteppes of vertue, thou clymbe vp to heauen, and that whatſoeuer thou doo els, is eyther needeleſſe, or hurtfull.
Of couetouſneſſe. The .Cv. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I AM troubled with the prickes of couetouſneſſe.
Reaſon.
Thou nameſt them well prickes: for there are certayne prickes of deſyre in the gettyng of ryches, and goodes when they are gotten are verie thornes, for ſo he tearmeth
them who cannot lye: Woorthie ryches, whiche trouble men both in the gettyng of them, and when they be gotten. But yf thou conſyder thyne owne carkas, yf thy nature, yf the ſhortneſſe of thy lyfe, thou ſhalt perceyue that thou art greeued with vayne cares, and coueteſt muche, but lackeſt lytle. And moreouer, howe that whyleſt thou gapeſt after gettyng more, thou haſt no regarde of that whiche is alredie gotten, and ſo after a manner, leeſect that whiche thou ſhouldeſt ſeeke after, then whiche, there is nothyng more foolyſhe.
Sorowe.
I am vrged with the deſyre to get muche.
Reaſon.
And yet thou perceyueſt not, howe that the tyme waſteth, and thy lyfe alſo paſſeth away, whyle muche is gotten. And thus a great perplexitie hapneth, whyle ye ſeeme to abounde in lyfe, and to want wealth, and whyle that want paſſeth away, there commeth another, and when ye abounde in wealth, ye want lyfe. Of this was not that wyſe man ignoraunt, whereas he ſpeaketh of the ſparer that ſayde, I wyl ſeeke reſt vnto my ſelfe, and wyl nowe eate alone of my goodes: And he perceyueth not howe the tyme paſſeth away, and how he leaueth al that he hath, when he dyeth, vnto other. And in another place he ſayth, He that heapeth vp ryches together vnrighteouſly, gathereth for other, that ſhal riotouſly conſume his goodes. O terrible ſaying, whiche we ſee yet to be true euery day before our eyes, but notwithſtanding nothing profiting the mindes of the couetous. And againe he ſayth, There is nothyng more wicked, then a couetous perſon, nor more vngodly, then to loue money. And to the entent thou mayeſt perceiue how all thinges agree in the trueth, as Ariſtotle ſayth, beholde how the Heathen Philoſopher, agreeth with the Eccleſiaſtical wyſe man, Men ought, ſayth Cicero, to eſchewe the deſire of money:
for there is no ſigne ſo great of a baſe and a vile minde, as to loue money.
Of enuie and malice. The .Cvj. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Doo beare enuie.
Reaſon.
The aboue named affection wyſhed well vnto thee, but this meaneth euyll vnto other, and by ſo muche is this woorſe then that, and malice more diſcommendable then couetouſneſſe Verie well therefore
ſayth the ſame wyſe man, of whom I ſpake euen nowe, The eye of the malitious is wicked, but the eye of the couetouſe is neuer ſatiſfied.
Sorowe.
I am tormented with enuie.
Reaſon.
Tyrantes of Sicile, founde no greater torment then enuie, as ſayth Horace the Poet: whiche is nowe tranſlated, by meanes of a peſtilent Southerne winde, vnto your Tyrantes and Princes.
Sorowe.
I am vexed with enuie.
Reaſon.
Thou dooeſt both offende, and art alſo puniſhed by preſent and redie iuſtice.
Sorowe.
The proſperitie of my neyghbour, breedeth enuie within me.
Reaſon.
Truely I beleeue thee: But there is none of you that enuieth at the king of the Parthians or Perſians, nor any of them that enuieth at you. The tyme hath been, when ye enuied one at another, for that your Empire was ſo great, that you were borderers one on another. But ſuffiſeth it ye not to be greeued with your owne euylles that are ſo many, but that other folkes proſperitie muſt alſo afflict you, and make you altogether mad and miſerable?
Sorowe.
I ſpite at my neyghbours.
Reaſon.
A common matter, malice is bleare eyed, and can not ſee farre of: Neyghbourhood and proſperitie are parentes vnto enuie.
Sorowe.
I enuie at other mens good eſtate.
Reaſon.
If thou be enuious, thou muſt needes alſo be baſe minded: of all vices, there is none more ſluggyſhe then enuie, it can not aſcende into hygh mindes, neyther is there any more wretched, and therefore all other preſuppoſe ſome good thyng, although it be falſe, but this is onely nouriſhed with euyls, and greeued with good, and ſuffereth that euyll it ſelfe, whiche it wyſheth to others. And therefore I lyke well of the ſaying of Alexander Kyng of Macedonie, to wit, That malicious men are nothyng els, but their owne tormenters: Truely, a graue ſaying, of ſo lyght a young Prince.
Of wrath. The .Cvij. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
BVT I am angrie.
Reaſon.
I haue promiſed comfort agaynſt aduerſitie, and not agaynſt vices: as for theſe, they are not caſuall, but voluntarie, and in your owne power,
who then ſhall conſtrayne thee to be angry?
Sorowe.
I am angrie when I am offended.
Reaſon.
Perhaps he whom thou blameſt for offendyng thee, complayneth that thou haſt offended hym: the offences are not ſo great, as is your inſolencie marueylous.
Sorowe.
I burne with wrath.
Reaſon.
Then art thou mad: And wrath, ſayth Horace, is a ſhort madneſse;
but many (through euyl cuſtome and impatience) doo make it a long madneſſe. For Ennius ſayth, That anger is the beginning of madneſſe, ſeeyng that vnto many that geue them ſelues ouer vnto it, it maketh an ende both of their madneſſe and lyfe alſo. For as the plague (whereof we diſputed before) euen ſo this lykewyſe, although it trouble other, yet doth it moſt torment the poſſeſſer thereof: ſo that I marueyle the more for what cauſe it ſhoulde ſeeme vnto ſome, to be (I knowe not howe) ſweeter then hony: reuenge perhappes may haue in it ſome taſt of cruell and ſauage pleaſure, but ſurely anger hath nothyng in it but bitterneſſe.
Sorow.
I am angrie for iniuries.
Reaſon.
There was neuer any almoſt ſo haſtily diſpoſed, that woulde be angrie for nothyng, vnleſſe perhaps it were Caelius the Senatour, the angrieſt man that euer lyued, who when as his client agreed with hym in all poyntes, & confeſſed whatſoeuer he required of hym, yet cryed he out (being angrie) ſaying, Say ſomewhat contrarie, that we may diſagree. A wylfull man truely: howe woulde he haue borne iniuries, that coulde not beare gentle ſpeeche?
Sorowe.
I am angrie, for that I am prouoked by offence.
Reaſon.
On this ſyde men commonly offende very muche: they picke quarrelles, and ſeeke occaſions, and in thoſe cauſes, for which they may iuſtly be angrie, their wrath exceedeth meaſure. In all offences there is ſome excuſe alleaged, and the excuſe it ſelfe is an offence: but thou, becauſe thou art not obeyed as a God, art wroth, and GOD him ſelfe is euery day prouoked in woordes and deedes, but is not alwayes angrie. As for you, ye drawe euery ouerthwart woorde, be it neuer ſo ſmall, vnto ſome haynous crime of lyfe and death, wherein you ſhewe your ſelues to be an impacient generation.
Sorowe.
I am angrie with them that haue deſerued it.
Reaſon.
If of thee, it is yll doone, yf of the Common wealth, and it be not doone in anger, but for the loue of Iuſtice, it is very well: and
to ſpeake breefely, that ſaying of Tully is preciſely to be kept, to witte, that anger be farre of, with which nothyng can be ryghtly and diſcreetely handled. And therefore the ſaying of Archytas Tarentinus is woorthyly commended, and alſo the deede of his freende Plato, of whom the one, when beyng wholy occupied in the ſtudie of learnyng, he ſawe his goodes deſtroyed and waſted through the negligence of his Baylife, turnyng hym ſelfe towardes hym: truely (quoth he) I woulde punyſhe thee accordyng to thy deſart, vnleſſe I were nowe angrie with thee. The other beyng offended with his ſeruaunt, dyd not let hym goe freely as Archytas dyd, but committed hym vnto one of his freendes to be puniſhed, fearyng leſt that the vehemencie of anger ſhoulde enforce hym farther then reaſon woulde require. Theſe and ſuche lyke examples, ought to moderate mens anger, leſt haply, as commonly it chaunceth, it dryue them headlong into infamie, and deſtruction.
Of Gluttonie. The .Cviij. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I AM moleſted with gluttonie.
Reaſon.
I ſayde erwhyle, that I take thoſe thynges in cure onely, that happen vnto men agaynſt theyr wylles: for who wyll heale them that are wyllyngly ſicke and diſeaſed?
Sorowe▪
I am vexed with gluttonie.
Reaſon.
Properly ſpoken in deede: for there is nothyng ſo vyle, that maketh you ſo carefull. It is woonderfull and ſha
••
efull to thynke, wherevnto the diſpoſition of mankynde, whiche was created vnto hygher matters, doth encline it ſelfe, ſince that forſakyng the coaſtes of the lande, ye goe about to ſearche out the ſee
•
e
•
e tractes of the Sea and Ayre. Ye haue veuiſed Ne
••
es, and Hookes, and Byrdlime, and Snares, and Hawkes alſo
•
e
•
aue
•
aught to come and goe at your commaundement, and to pray for your pleaſure, and for nothyng els, but to ſerue your throtes, whiche you cloy not onely with fyllyng, but alſo with ouerburdenyng, and by ſundrie meanes you oppreſſe your ſlender bellie, by too muche followyng the greedineſſe thereof, for whiche hunger were muche more conuenient,
but ſobrietie moſt profitable aboue of all other thynges: when as ye ought rather to geue ſome reſt vnto that filthie and miſerable paunche of yours, and to leaue ſome quietneſſe vnto the Wooddes, Cloudes, and Riuers. But thus goeth the worlde, and this is the maner, ſpecially among Noblemen, theſe are the arces whiche ſometyme beyng liberall, are nowe become Handicraftes, whiche ye applie: and they that were wont to be Generalles of Armies, and Philoſophers, and Gouerners of Cities, and Fathers of theyr Countrey, are nowe become Hunters, and Faulkoners, that thou mayeſt vnderſtande, howe that there is nowe no hope of ſaluation remainyng. That is aſcribed vnto Nobilitie, whiche is gluttonie, or rather playne vanitie. This miſchiefe is by noneother meanes better beaten downe, then by a certayne noble diſdayne and indignation, and by vpryght conſideration of the thyng it ſelfe, eyther by lytle and lytle, as Cicero lyketh it, or ſuddenly, as Ariſtotle thynketh it good. It auayleth very muche to thynke vpon the ende, which beyng a generall rule in all vices, yet is it moſt effectuall in this vice, and alſo in letcherie.
Of ſluggyſhneſſe of the minde. The .Cjx. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Am ſluggyſhe in doing of buſineſſe.
Reaſon.
What marueile, yf after ſo diligent ſtudie of gluttonie, ſluggyſhneſſe of the minde do followe the heauineſſe and ouerburrdening of the bodye?
Sorowe.
I am greeued with dulneſſe of minde.
Reaſon.
This dulneſſe ſpringeth from an imperfect wyl, but ſo ſoone as thou ſhalt beginne to bende thine endeuour, it wyl growe to an earneſt deſire and courage, which being very yll vnto many thynges, is moſt commendable vnto vertue.
Sorowe.
I am ſlouthful, and ſluggyſh to ryſe vnto any good woorkes.
Reaſon.
There is a certayne dulneſſe in the minde, and alſo a couragious feruencie engraffed in a part of the minde, whiche feruencie wyll be ſet on fyre, and dulneſſe ſhaken of, by conſyderyng the ſwyftneſſe of tyme in paſſyng away, whiche is ſo great, that
there is no minde, be it neuer ſo ſwyfte, that is able to meaſure it: and alſo the ſurpaſſyng beautie of vertue, whiche is ſo louelie, that yf it coulde be ſeene with the bodily eyes, as Plato ſayth, it woulde rauyſhe men woonderfully with the loue thereof. Therefore, let loue on the one ſyde, and feare on the other ſtyrre thee vp, for both of them are very effectuall: for neyther he that loueth, neyther he that hateth, can commonly be dull and ſluggyſhe: and yet notwithſtandyng, ye ryſe in the nyght tyme vnto diuine ſeruice, wherein ye pray that hurtfull ſleepe and ſluggyſhnes oppreſſe you not: there is no place for ſleepe nor ſluggyſhueſſe, when as death frayeth you on the one ſyde, and vertue on the other. For who coulde euer be ſlouthfull and careleſſe in great dangers, or great aduauncementes? Whenſoeuer thou haft reſpect vnto theſe, courage wyll reſort to the minde, and ſleepe wyll flye from the eyes, when ye thynke with your ſelues, howe muche imperfection remayneth within you, and howe muche tyme ye haue ſpent in idleneſſe: whereof when men haue no conſyderation, we ſee howe they ſpende long ages vnprofitably, and heare olde men wonderyng and amazed to ſay: What haue we doone heere theſe many yeeres? We haue eaten, drunken, and ſlept, and nowe at laſt we are awaked too late. The cheefe cauſe whereof is this ſluggyſhneſſe, whereof thou complayneſt, whiche in tyme ought to be dryuen away by the prickes of induſtrie, and the brydle of foreſyght, leaſt that by ouerlong ſtaying, thou be caried away with the multitude, vnto a diſhonourable ende.
Of Letcherie. The .Cx. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I AM ſhaken with the vehemencie of Letcherie.
Reaſon.
Letcherie is begotten by ſlouthfulneſſe, and brought foorth by gluttonie: what maruell is it then, yf the daughter followe her parentes? As for gluttonie and letcherie, they are common vnto you with beaſtes, and that they make your lyfe more beaſtly, then any other thyng, wyſe men haue ſo iudged: and therefore although there be many miſchiefes
more greeuous, yet is there none more vyle.
Sorowe.
I am carryed away with Letcherie.
Reaſon.
Whyther I pray thee, but vnto death, both of the bodye and ſoule, and infamous ignominie, and too late, and perhappes vnprofitable repentance? Goe thy wayes nowe, and followe her that carrieth thee away vnto ſuche endes. Thynke vppon the miſerable and notorious chaunces of innumerable, not onely priuate men, but alſo Cities and Kyngdomes, whiche partly by ſyght, and partly by heareſay, but ſpecially by readyng, ought to be very well knowen, and then I ſuppoſe thou wylt not geue thy hande vnto this vice to followe it. Heare what the beſt learned haue iudged, and written concernyng this matter, Pleaſures, ſayth Cicero, beyng moſt flatteryng Ladyes, doo wreaſt the greater partes of the mynde from vertue. To this ende,
ſayth Seneca, they embrace vs, that they may ſtrangle vs, whiche none otherwyſe then Theeues that lay wayte for traueylers vppon the way, and leade them aſide, to murther them, ought to be auoyded.
Wherein it ſhall muche auayle, yf whoſoeuer ſhall feele hym ſelfe infected with this miſcheefe, doo imagine that moſt excellent ſayeing of Scipio Africane in Liuie, whiche he ſpake vnto king Maſiniſſa, to be ſpoken vnto hym ſelfe: Vanquiſhe thy minde, quoth he, and take heede thou doo not deforme many good giftes with one vice, and corrupt the beautie of ſo many deſartes, with a greater faulte then the cauſe of the faulte is. The whiche ſhalbe doone the more eaſily, yf a man doo thynke earneſtly vppon the vileneſſe, fylthineſſe, ſhortneſſe, and ende of the thyng, and alſo the long reproche, and the ſhort time, and howe perhappes the pleaſure of one breefe moment, ſhalbe puniſhed with the repentaunce of many yeeres, and peraduenture with euerlaſtyng damnation.
Of Pryde. The .Cxj. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I AM lyfted vp with pryde.
Reaſon.
Earth and aſhes, why art thou proude? Canſt thou that art oppreſſed with the burden of ſo many miſchiefes, be lyfted vp with
pride? Who yf thou were free from them al, and were lyfted vp by the wynges of al vertues, yet were al thy good gyftes defiled with this vyce only: For there is nothing more hateful vnto God, then pryde. By this fel he that was created in moſt excellent eſtate, by which thou beyng a ſinner thinkeſt to aryſe. If it hapned ſo vnto hym for this one thing, what doeſt thou thinke wyl befall vnto thee, in whom this wickedneſſe is ioyned with other vices? Thou haſt heaped a naughtie weight vpon thy burden.
Sorow.
I am carried with pryde.
Reaſon.
Why ſhouldeſt thou be ſo, I pray thee? Doeſt thou not remember that thou art mortal, that thou weareſt away euery day, that thou art a ſinner, that thou art ſubiect to a thouſand chaunces, and in danger euery day to vncertayne death, and finally, that thou art in wretched caſe? And haſt thou not alſo heard the moſt famous ſaying of Homer, The earth nouriſheth nothyng more wretched then man?
I woulde fayne knowe whiche of theſe doth moſt cheefely pricke thee foorth vnto pryde, whether the imbecilitie of the body, or the whole armie of ſickeneſſes, or the ſhortneſſe of lyfe, or the blyndeneſſe of the minde, whiche continually wauereth betweene moſt vayne hope and perpetual feare, or the forgetfulneſſe of that whiche is paſt, or the ignorance of that whiche is to come and preſent, or the treacherie of enimies, or the death of freendes, or continuing aduerſitie, or flytting proſperitie? By theſe and none other ladders ye aſcend vnto pryde, by theſe ye ryſe to ruine. All other dangers wherein men do walter, haue ſome excuſe, although it be vniuſt: but pryde and enuie haue no coloure at al.
Sorow.
I am ſorie that I am proud.
Reaſon.
To be ſorie for ſinne, is the firſt degree to ſaluation. And as it is the nature of pryde to lyft vp, ſo is it of humilitie to be ſorie and ſubmit it ſelfe, whiche thou ſhalt do the more eaſye, ſo ſoone as thou turneſt thyne eyes earneſtly vpon thy ſelfe: whiche being ſo, I am not mynded, neyther ought I to heape vp vnto theeaucthorities wrytten in bookes agaynſt vices: This only ſhalbe ſufficient, that thou knowe, that ſo ſoone as euer thou be diſpoſed vnfeignedly, al theſe matters wyl ſurceaſſe immediatly, and whenſoeuer, as they ſay, thou ſhalt blowe the retreate, & retire to thyne enſignes, as touchyng
this preſent miſcheefe. This one thyng I wyl ſay moreouer: that pryde is a ſickeneſſe of wretches, and fooles: for doubtleſſe they be ſuche that be proud, otherwyſe I am ſure they woulde neuer be proud, neyther is it written without cauſe in the booke of Wiſedome: That al that are foolyſh & vnfortunate, are proud about the meaſure of their ſoule. And truely, yf they were wyſe for their ſoules health, their meane were to abaſe their eſtate, knowyng their owne imbecilitie. For ſo thou readeſt it written in the ſame booke: He that is a king to day, ſhal dye to morow. And when a man dyeth, he ſhal haue ſerpentes, and beaſtes, and woormes for his inheritance. The begynning of pryde is to fal from God, for that he forſaketh hym that made hym, and foraſmuche as pryde is the beginnyng of al ſinne. Thou knoweſt al other thynges, which being diligently weighed, thou ſhalt perceyue howe foule a monſter a proude man is.
Of Agues. The .cxii. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Burne with Agues.
Reaſon.
This heat wyl ende in proceſſe of tyme, or els with colde: whiche euer of the twayne it be, it is well.
Sorow.
I am greeued with agues.
Reaſon.
All this motion agaynſt nature, is of more vehemencie then continuance, and of theſe twayne it alwayes doth the one, eyther it clenſeth the body, or ſetteth the ſoule at libertie.
Sorowe.
I am holden with Agues.
Reaſon.
Stay a whyle, thou ſhalt not long be holden: for eyther thou ſhalt ſoone be diſcharged thereof, or ſet at libertie: and eyther of them is very good.
Sorowe.
I am ſicke of an Ague.
Reaſon.
Thou ſhalt be at quiet anon: nature ſtriueth with death, attend the ende of the battayle, for the houre draweth nygh, which ſhal eyther free thee from thy ſickenſſe, or diſcharge thee from al.
Sorow.
I burne with the Ague.
Reaſon.
It is leſſe harme for the bodye to burne then the foule, whereof thou madeſt thy laſt ſeuen complayntes: and howe yf the ſcortching of the one, be medicinable for the other? Finally, how much more better is it by a ſhort caſt of the euyles of this preſent lyfe, to be put in mynde of the euerlaſtyng puniſhment, to the ende that
men may ſtudy to auoyde infinite bitterneſſe, who ſo greeuouſly ſuſteyne the ſharpeneſſe of a fewe houres, and by theſe troubles learne to flye them, from whiche neyther the Phiſition, nor herbes, nor the critical day, nor death can delyuer them?
Sorowe.
I trye with the Feuer.
Reaſon.
The woormes meate is roſted: ſuffer thy ſelfe to be burned for other, for whom other meates haue been ſo often tymes burned, and take aduiſement of the puniſhment. Many euyles haue ſtoode in ſteede of remedies: a ſmal greefe in the preſent tyme hath often geuen men occaſion to prouide for greater to come, and that whiche was paineful becommeth profitable. Happie is that ſhort burnyng, whiche is the cauſe of eternal ioy.
Sorowe.
I am moleſted with the Ague.
Reaſon.
Nowe ſhalt thou be an vpryght iudge of proſperous health. For you men beyng an vnthankeful generation, cannot acknowledg the giftes of God, vnleſſe they be loſt, or ſurceaſſe.
Sorow.
I am ſore vexed with a greiuous ague.
Reaſon.
Ye cannot long continue togither. No man can burne long: For either thou wilt ſhortly forſake thine ague, or elſe thine ague wil leaue thee.
Of the payne of the guttes, and Traunce. The .cxiii Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Suffer the payne of the guttes.
Reaſon.
Begyn to hope, for there can happen now nothing more greeuous vnto thee. For lyke as it is the begynning of ſorowe, to come to the vttermoſt degree of pleaſure, ſo lykewyſe the extremitie of ſorowe muſt needes be the begynning of pleaſure. This is the lawe of contraries, that the one ſpryngeth from the ende of the other.
Sorowe.
I am tormented with the Iliake paſſion.
Reaſon.
It is, I confeſſe, an hard kynde of comfort, that a man can ſuffer nothing more bitter.
Sorowe.
I am vexed with the Iliake paſſion.
Reaſon.
Who ſo is ſorie and feareth, is in wretched caſe: but feare, which is the one halfe of miſerie, is taken from thee on euery ſide: for whereof, I pray thee, neede he to be afeard, who hopeth for death whereof aboue al thynges men ſtande
moſt in dreade?
Sorowe.
I am martyred with the payne in the gu
•
tes.
Reaſon.
Whyle thou lyueſt learne to dye, and that which muſt be done but once, aſſay thou to do often, & then at length thou ſhalt do that more ſafely once, whiche thou haſt aſſayed to do ſo often: for that whiche thou doeſt then, ſhalbe no ſtrange thyng to thee. The payne in the guttes, is muche lyke vnto death, ſauing that death is ſhorter and eaſier, ſo that he that can beare that payne valiantly, vnleſſe ſome other feare come betweene and alter the caſe, ſhal much more valiantly endure death.
Sorowe.
I am torne in peeces by the iliacke paſſion.
Reaſon.
The vehemencie of the payne promiſeth an ende: for there is no man long a dying.
Sorow.
Yea, the very payne driueth me into a ſounde.
Reaſon.
The long paynes of feauers thou paſſeſt ouer with one breathyng.
Sorowe.
I feele howe I am fallen into a traunce.
Reaſon.
A man ſhall ſcarce perceyue when it is comming: for it commeth ſodenly, and when it is come, it preſently depriueth the vnderſtandyng of all force.
Sorowe.
I begynne to faint.
Reaſon.
O, happie art thou, that ſhalt paſſe ouer ſo aſſured and hard a thyng without ſenſe.
Sorowe.
I fall oft tymes into a traunce.
Reaſon.
Thou returneſt often from death to lyfe.
Sorowe.
I fal very often into a deadly traunce.
Reaſon.
Thou canſt not fal into that twyce. For none dyeth more then once: and whiche ſhoulde be the beſt kynde of death, there was ſomtyme diſputation among certayne learned and notable men, at whiche was Iulius Caeſar in preſence, for empire and learnyng a moſt excellent perſonage: who alſo in his latter tyme, as ſome wryte of hym, vſed many tymes to faynt ſuddeynly, which queſtion he in this manner determined, concludyng, that a ſuddeine and vnlooked for death, was of al the moſt commodious. Whiche opinion, although vnto godlyneſſe and true religion it ſeeme very harde, notwithſtandyng euery one that wyſe is, but ſpecially godly, and ſtudious of true religion ought ſo to lyue, that nothyng may befal vnto hym ſoddenly and vnlooked for, and yf any ſuche thyng happen to the minde, that the ſoddenneſſe thereof hurt it not, but profite alſo the body.
Of ſundry paynes and greefes of the whole body. The .cxiiii. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Am greeued in al partes of my body.
Reaſon.
If thy minde, whiche is the gheaſt of the body, be not greeued nor troubled, it is wel: whatſoeuer hapneth vnto the poore cottage thereof, ſhal redownde (I hope) vnto the ſafetie of it.
Sorowe.
I am vexed in al my body, whiche is a greeuous payne.
Reaſon.
The Stoikes ſay, that among al humane thynges, only vertue is good. And although others be of another opinion, yet this is the more true and manly, as ſeemeth vnto me, and many moe: whereof it foloweth, that whatſoeuer is contrarie hereunto, is a vice: whereby it commeth to paſſe, that although the payne of the body be moſt greeuous, yet it is not euyll.
Sorow.
Alas poore wretch how I am tormented, and thou diſputeſt, and al are but philoſophical fables.
Reaſon.
Thou ſheweſt thy ſelfe to be a wretche, if it were but in this poynt only, for that thou calleſt the rules of mans lyfe, fables.
Sorow.
Theſe thynges are plauſible in the ſchooles, and famous in bookes, but they are not able to enter into the racke, or to clymbe vp into the beddes of the ſicke, they be ſpoken and wrytten, more eaſily then practiſed.
Reaſon.
Yes truely, they be profitable agaynſt payne, and ſickneſſe, and death, but not vnto al, for that they cannot ſinke into all mens mindes, and truely vnto thoſe that wyl geue no credite to them, they can do no pleaſure.
Sorowe.
Alas I am tormented, and thou diſputeſt.
Reaſon.
This thy ſorow muſt needes be long, or vehement, and therfore requireth eyther eaſie, or ſhort pacience.
Sorowe.
Alas, alas, I am cruelly vexed.
Reaſon.
If thy payne be extreame, then muſt it needes be ſhort, and therfore lament no more, for it muſt needes eyther goe away from thee, or ſet thee packing: ſet thy doores wyde open for eyther lybertie, and remember in the meane whyle that it is a valiant and manly thing to beare humane chaunces with indifferencie.
Sorowe.
It is a goodly matter, I graunt, in woordes to ſpeake it, but truely I thinke to do it, impoſſible.
Reaſon.
It is not
the impoſſibilitie of the thynges, but the dayntineſſe of men that cauſeth innumerable to forſake vertue, and wyl cauſe many hereafter, whyles euery harde thing is refuſed as impoſſible. Thus vertue peryſheth, whoſe ſubiect is a certayne difficultie, but that whiche is honeſt.
Sorow.
We be men, and no goddes, and poore dying bodyes are not able to abyde the force of payne.
Reaſon.
That mens bodyes are frayle I cannot deny, but yet not ſo frayle but that they haue ſtrength enough to beare al aduerſitie, were it not that the infirmitie of your myndes were muche greater. This is it whiche forceth out of men vnſeemely houlynges, and womaniſh and effeminate voyces: For (I pray thee) why ſhouldeſt thou thinke that impoſſible for a man, to doo, whiche thou ſeeſt that in olde tymes men coulde doo, and dyd alſo?
Sorowe.
Alas, I am nowe called away agaynt vnto hyſtories, and in the very middeſt of the paynes of my greefe, beyng ſcarſe myndeful of my ſelfe, I am reuoked vnto the remembrance of auncient examples.
Reaſon.
Doth not then the remembrance of moſt excellent men, who valiantly ſuſteyned the lyke, bryng great eaſe and comfort in al aduerſitie?
Sorow.
I know it wel, but thou canſt alleage vnto me but fewe whom I may imitate: thy aduiſe is glorious, but to high for man, and aboue his capacitie.
Reaſon.
Why ſayeſt thou aboue mans capacitie? Seeing they are not the reaſons and examples of goddes, but of men, which I lay before thee.
Sorow.
Of men in deede I graunt, mary but of fewe, whoſe rareneſſe is ſuch, as almoſt they are none at al: and I can ſee but ſmal difference betweene the Phenix and Chimera: but I folowe them whiche ſay that Chimera is nothyng, for among ſome it is an hyl in Sicil.
Reaſon.
As though that the Phenix were layde before thee to immitate, and not almoſt an whole armie of men, who the rarer they be founde, ſo muche the more woorthy they are, whom thou ſhouldeſt couet to be lyke: whoſoeuer neglecteth to folowe rare men, ſhal neuer be rare man hym ſelfe.
Sorow.
I perceiue how thou wouldeſt haue me be one of a fewe, but I am one of many.
Reaſon.
I had rather almoſt that thou were no body, then to be one of many: I cannot determine whether it were better not to be at al, then to be a foole: for to be one of the
greateſt number, and to be a foole, is al one.
Sorow.
I knowe that there is nothyng woorſe, then not to be at al.
Reaſon.
Thou knoweſt not howe yll it is to be ſomewhat, nor to be what thou oughteſt to be.
Sorowe.
Thou ſpeakeſt this, although that muſt needes happen to al, which by chaunce befalleth vnto one, which thou wouldeſt haue to be applyed vnto al.
Reaſon.
Thou ſayeſt yll, to happen, for veriue commeth not by happe, but altogeather by deliberation and election, and is gotten, not by chaunce, but by ſtudie. Neyther do I drawe that vnto al which chaunce hath geuen vnto fewe, but that whiche vertue hath geuen to many do I drawe vnto one, being wylling to drawe it to all, but I am weeried euen in one.
Sorowe.
But al men cannot doo all thinges.
Reaſon.
That this is not only a poetical, but alſo a ſhepheardly ſpeech, I knowe very wel: but I woulde that thou ſhouldeſt haue a power or a wyl to do that whiche al cannot do, whiche nowe thou canſt, and I deſyre that thou wouldeſt haue a wyl to doo it.
Sorowe.
Alas, why doeſt thou diſquiet me poore wretch, is it not ſufficient that I am vexed with payne?
Reaſon.
I goe about rather to procure thy quyetneſſe, & to take away this torment from thee, which I ſhalbe neuer able to do alone, vnleſſe thou ſet to thine helping hande.
Sorowe.
Phy, phy, what is that which thou ſayeſt that I am able to doo? Can I otherwyſe chooſe then feele the payne whiche I feele? or deny that to be euyl, which in deede I fynd to be very yll?
Reaſon.
The firſt I wyl not requyre at thy handes, for nature gayneſayeth it: the ſecond, that I may not obteyne, it is not nature, nor trueth, but onely errour yt withſtandeth.
Sorowe.
Out alas, to what purpoſe ſerue theſe foolyſhe diſcourſes which you cal philoſophical? I know certainely, that payne is no infirmitie of the mind, but of the body: I knowe that paine is anotheer thing from falſhood: to be in paine one thyng & to ſteale another: theſe thinges, yt thou maieſt teathe me no new matter, yea though thou adde nothing vnto them, are of thē ſelues I know a great euil, & alſo that paine is of it ſelfe euil, I know wel enough: ye meanes & way how to know which thing to be ſo, I do not want, but rather how to ſuffer, or moſt of al to driue it away. For I know very wel, & I woulde I knewe not ſo much, what payne is.
Reaſon.
And I know alſo that payne is a
bitter thing, cruel, horrible, ſower, ſharpe, contrarie to nature, odious to the ſenſes, but whiche notwithſtandyng may not onely be made ſweete by the aſſiſtance of vertue, as Epicurus ſayde, diſſendyng from hym ſelfe, but alſo be lenified and rebated, and alſo the greater vehemencie thereof, if the minde be armed with true vertue, eyther be fealt more tollerably, or in a manner not be fealt at al.
Sorowe.
Armed or vnarmed, I ſuſtayne moſt cruell payne, and profeſſe that it is a very euyl thyng.
Reaſon.
I woulde wyſhe rather to heare ſome other profeſſion of thee.
Sorow.
If we be agayne called backe vnto plauſible and fayre thynges, magnifical woordes do delyte the eares, but true ſpeeches the mynde: and what yf the bodily greefe be greater then the pacience of the minde?
Reaſon.
What yf there be no delites nor greefes of the body, nor afflictions whatſoeuer ouerth wharting, that are comparable to the ſtrength of the minde? What yf in all conflictes, yf ſo be that it wyllingly gaue not ouer, but with al force and vnfeinedly reſiſted the aduerſarie, it alwayes had the vpper hande, and departed the conquerour?
Sorow.
What yf it happen, that vnto the intollerableneſſe of the payne, there ve added ſome farther greefe, as filthineſſe, loathſomeneſſe, and ſhame of the diſeaſe? What yf the foule leproſie haue inuaded the corrupt and wretched carckaſe? In this caſe what wyl thy talke auayle me?
Reaſon.
Very muche truely, yf thou reiect it not, for it wyl diſcouer thee vnto thy ſelfe, who ſeing al thynges, yet ſeeſt not thy ſelfe: It wyl alſo cauſe thee to remember yt this thy poore carckaſe is made of the earth, & ſo mortal, not ayreal and eternal. Neither oughteſt thou to maruayle, or take in yll part, yf corruption enter vpon her owne earth, and the ſubſtance of man depart vnto it owne natural place, yf alſo the minde, and moſt excellent matter whereof man conſiſteth, vnleſſe they rebell, be diſpoſed and directed vnto felicitie is and euerlaſtyng perpetuitie, and the viler ſubſtance ſubiect to death, and capable of al kinde of miſerie. Therefore, whether it be the leproſſe, or falling ſickeneſſe, or whatſoeuer can happen more loathſome or greeuous then any of theſe, thou muſt thinke aſſuredly, that there is no more fallen vpon this veſſel of miſerie, then that whiche the potter that made it, appoynted vnto it from the begynnyng, agaynſt whom the veſſels
of Clay are warned not to murmur, although he haue made ſome of them to honour, and ſome to diſhonour, but all frayle and mortall.
Sorowe.
Shall I then, by thyne aduice, beare this leaproſie without murmur or complaint?
Reaſon.
Yea truely, by myne aduice and counſell: to whom yf thou canſt proue, that thy murmur and complaintes doo any whyt profite thee, or aſſwage thy greefe, then wyll I change myne opinion, and ſuffer thee, or rather exhort thee to doo them both. But yf repinyng and complaintes be nothyng els, but an encreaſing of the miſchiefe, what ſhall it auayle thee to heape the ſickneſſe of the minde, vpon the infirmitie of the bodye, and by lamentyng to make thy ſelfe more miſerable, and hym more ſharpe agaynſt thee, who beholdeth the trauelles of men from an hygh, and conſydereth theyr patience to requite it with remedie or rewarde? Is it a ſmall comfort agaynſt all plagues and afflictions of the bodye, or becauſe thou bewayleſt this one by name, agaynſt this alſo, to knowe that the leproſie is an infirmitie of the ſkinne and colour, not of the good eſtate or integritie of the ſenſes and limmes, as we knowe S. Auguſtine holdeth opinion, and naturall Philoſophers doo not gayneſay. But admit that it pearce the ſkinne, and tearyng the fleſhe, enter into the verie intrailes, as we read it dyd vnto Plotinus the great Platonike? Truely into the ſoule it can not enter, vnleſſe it ſelfe conſent thereto, whiche beyng in good health, it wyll no more regarde the outwarde ſhape and looke of the bodye, then wyll a ſounde and healthfull gheſt be mooued, to ſee the outwarde walles of his Inne where he lodgeth, to pyll and be rough, by reaſon of winde and weather. Yea, moreouer, the leproſie taketh hym that is infected therewith, from among the common people, and continuall conuerſation with ſuche men, whoſe companie to auoyde, they ought to refuſe no paynes whatſoeuer, nor to craue ayde therevnto of any whoſoeuer: but to be ſhort, in brynging the bodye into great lothſomneſſe, it delyuereth the minde of as muche altogether.
Sorowe.
Alas, howe ſhoulde I beleeue one that prayſeth the vileſt thinges?
Reaſon.
They are not the diſeaſes of the bodye, but the vices of the minde, whiche are the vileſt thynges: neyther doo I therefore prayſe the leproſie, becauſe I commende equanimitie and patience:
and I exhort thee alſo, not to take in ſo yll part and ſo lamentably thy priuate hap in humane affayres, ſeeyng that it is common vnto thee, with the mightie Emperour and great Philoſopher Conſtantinus, and Plotinus, of whom we talked erewhile. And laſt of all, it is conuenient for thee to lay before thyne eyes, howe that the Lorde hateth not the Leproſie, but ſinne, yea the very ſame Lorde that is Iudge both of men and angelles, of whom it is written: The euyll dooer ſhall not dwell neere vnto thee, nor the vnrighteous ſtande before thyne eyes: Yet dyd be not neuertheleſſe abhorre, nor flee from the Leprous, but frequented their houſes, and kept companie with them at feaſtes and banqueties.
Sorowe.
Thou ouercommeſt me with woordes, and payne in deedes, wherein I geue no credite vnto the triflyng of Philoſophers, but to mine owne ſenſes, and what they tell me I knowe wel enough.
Reaſon.
Fyrſt, the grauitie of the whole bodye of Philoſophie is not ouerthrowen, in reſpect of the triflinges, as thou truely tearmeſt them, of certayne Philoſophers, whiche in deede I can not excuſe nor denie: whiche Philoſophie, both in this whereof we now entreate, as alſo in many other thynges, is onely the vndoubted rampire in earth of a troubled minde. And laſtly, there is nothing more abſurd among them that loue me, then for them to ſeeke after the trueth by the deceiuable iudgement of the ſenſes: for the trueth ought not be ſought by the ſenſes, but by wit and ſtudie.
Sorowe.
Alas, why doeſt thou vexe me, and adde weerineſſe vnto my paine? Gene me rather ſome remedie, for neyther thou, not yet Philoſophie her ſelfe, as much as ſhe maketh for thee, ſhal euer conſtraine me to confeſſe that I feele no yt, which I feele in deede.
Reaſon.
The delicate and loothing patient muſt ſome time be obeyed, and now & then he muſt be ſuffered to vſe that, which of it ſelfe being hurtfull, becommeth profitable by meanes of his longing for it. And ſo am I content like wyſe to ſuffer, that if ſicknes, if puniſhment, if offence, if affliction be euylles of the body, which of the Stoikes ſeeme to be called diſcommodities, that the paine which riſeth thereof may appeare to be, and to be ryghtly called euyl, and yf thou wylt haue it ſo a great euyll to: but yet ſuche an euyll as may be ouercome by vertue, and that I may no longer ſtande in contention of the
woorde, our freende Cicero ſhall reconcile vs well together. For I doo not denie, ſayth he, but that paine is paine in deede: for els, why ſhoulde Fortitude be required? but I ſay, that it is ouercome by patience, yf ſo be patience be any thyng at all, but yf it be nothyng, to what ende are we garniſhed with Philoſophie, or why are we made glorious with her name? Thus much ſayth Cicero. Muche more alſo in the ſame place, is by hym diuinely ſet downe agaynſt this inconuenience or miſchiefe, in the ſeconde dayes diſputation of his Tuſculane queſtions, comprehendyng the diſcourſes of fiue dayes in equall number of bookes, whiche place I thought good to poynt out vnto thee, for that it is very effectuall vnto that, whereof thou ſtandeſt now in neede, eſpecially patience, and courage of minde, which beyng empayred and loſt, falſe opinions of the common multitude creepe in, and lamentations vnmeete for men, breake foorth.
Sorow.
Now thou layeſt thine hand neerer my greefe, teaching me where I may finde thoſe thinges, which vnto me, being in this caſe, wyl I truſt, be better and more conuenient, then the brutiſhe and ſtonie opinions of the Stoikes: although alſo in truſtyng, I diſtruſt. For whiles beyng greedy of remedie, I repeate often vnto my ſelfe the ſame place, the better to endure the payne, neuertheleſſe I ſhal be neuer able of my ſelfe, neyther by the helpe of Cicero, nor any other to finde ſufficient abilitie there vnto.
Reaſon.
This diſtruſt I doo not diſcommende, but rather prayſe: let no man truſt muche to hym ſelfe, but in all difficulties, ſeeke helpe not of man, but of GOD: howbeit, not in ſuche ſort, that he beleeue that there ſhall come Angelles downe from heauen armed, to delyuer hym. GOD ſometyme perhappes fauoureth wicked men, but as for the ſlouthfull, he neuer helpeth them. If thou wouldeſt ſeeme woorthie of ſuccour, doo as muche as in thee lyeth, to ſtyrre vp, to aduaunce, and to arme thy mynde, whiche beyng doone, bryng hym foorth into the feelde agaynſt the Enimies.
Sorowe.
The reſidue, I ſuppoſe, I vnderſtand what thou meaneſt: but this one thyng I demaunde, whiche be theſe weapons of the minde, whereof thou ſpeakeſt?
Reaſon.
This is well: Nowe I conceyue ſome hope
of thy welfare. In the ſharpneſſe of matters to weepe, is womanyſhe: but endeuour agaynſt a thyng, to reſiſte it: to ſeeke counſell and helpe, is the part of a man, and effectuall to preuayle. The weapons of the minde, and the ſkyll and policie in fighting, are many and diuers, accordyng to the diuerſitie of the enimies. Neyther is there any duetie in Philoſophie more profitable or holye, then to entreate of theſe, whiche as I ſuppoſe, doo more appertayne vnto you, then to knowe what the Planettes doo, what the aſpect of Iupiter promiſeth in a natiuitie, what Saturne threatneth beyng in coniunction with Mars, what qualities Mercurius the wanderyng interpretour taketh from the father and brethren, what he boroweth of euerie one that he meeteth, what is the cauſe of ſhowers and heate, whereof come earthquakes, by what power and force the deepe Seas doo ſwell: and not to knowe from whence the colde, heate, ſwellyng, quakyng, and weakeneſſe of the minde proceede, and by what meanes the heate may be tempered, the ſwellyng aſſwaged, the quakyng and weakeneſſe ſtrengthned and confirmed. In whiche practice, although Ariſtotle doo laugh and gybe at Socrates, yet perhappes, afterwarde he changed his minde, and followed the ſame ſtudie not a lytle. But theſe matters are commonly to be founde diſpearſed in the writinges of the Philoſophers, wherewith to furnyſhe the ignoraunt were ouer tedious, and too long a matter for this breefe diſcourſe, and vnto the ſkylfull ſuperfluous, who needeth not to be taught, but onely admoniſhed.
Sorowe.
I knowe it is ſo, neyther demaunded I of all thinges, but onely this one, what weapons thou wouldeſt ſpecially miniſter vnto me, wherewith I myght encounter this myne enimie Payne, agaynſt whom I nowe fyght?
Reaſon.
Herevnto can I not anſweare thee better, nor brieflyer, then doth Cicero. For he aſketh the queſtion as thou dooeſt: And what weapons, ſayth he, are theſe? He anſweareth immediatly, Earneſt endeuour, Confyrmation, and Inwarde communication.
Sorowe.
Diſcourſe, I praye thee, vppon euery one of them: for I haue read them many tymes heretofore, howbeit I am afearde, leſt it happen vnto me, as it doth vnto many, who when they reade any thyng to them ſelues, thynk that
they vnderſtand all, but when they come to vtter them ſelues before other, then perceyue they that they vnderſtand nothing. And therefore tel me, yf you pleaſe, what is this earneſt endeuour?
Reaſon.
This appeareth ſufficiently, yf thou proceede a lytle forwarde in Ciceroes owne woordes: but that thou ſhalt not ſeeme to aſke any thyng of me in vayne, I wyl declare the ſame another way. There be many thynges like in the mindes and bodyes, and as there is no force of the bodye ſo great, ſo lykewyſe is there no ſtrength of the minde of ſuch power, which with a ſudden and heauie burden wyl not quayle and bende. See that they be euermore prouided, and readie, leaſt they be both ouerthrowen by their owne greatneſſe, but that when neede ſhal require, they be founde prepared: for many tymes a very valiant man hath been ſore afearde, at the ſudden meetyng of a mightie enimie. Geue thy mind ſpace to refreſh it ſelfe, and to ſhewe foorth it owne ſtrength in the preſent danger, and then ſhall it receiue the aſſault of the enimie with ſecuritie. The Champions that are redie to combat at the exerciſe called Caeſtes, make redie their armes, and ſet their necke and ſhoulders vnto the burden, & by bending their ſtrength, they ſhew the more valure in the fight, & hauing prepared them ſelues, they beare yt weight more eaſily, vnder which if they went ſlouthfully to worke, they might happen to fal more dangerouſly. In like maner, whenſoeuer there appeareth any great difficultie, the minde muſt be bent againſt it, whiche if it be throughly doone, it ſhal become conquerour ouer all extremities: otherwyſe incredible it is to be ſpoken, howe ſoone a ſluggyſhe and vnprouided minde is ouerthrowen by a ſmall occaſion. This is that ſame earneſt endeuour of minde, whereof Cicero ſpeaketh, or whether thou haddeſt rather haue it tearmed an Intention of the minde, for both theſe woordes haue but one ſignification, indifferently, as thou feeſt vſed by him, & deriued both from one woord.
Sorowe.
I perceiue, and heare thee gadly, but what is Confirmation?
Reaſon.
I wyll ſhewe thee: In the mindes that are moſt valiant, there are ſome poyntes of diſtruſt to be ſounde ioyned with other laudable affections, and although they be truely perſwaded, yet falſe matters ſounde about their eares, and ſuche a multitude of populare errours aſſemble them ſelues
to vanquiſhe the caſtle of their minde, that it is an hard matter for it to keepe vpright iudgement. For ſometime there commeth vppon it a certaine dulneſſe, and ſometime a doubting whether thoſe thynges be true or not, which are commonly reported by men of great learnyng and holyneſſe, concerning the vertue of patience, of the cumlineſſe of honeſtie, and the bryghtneſſe of glorie, or rather that whiche is diſputed by others, and liked of the common people: to witte, that the beſt thyng that can be, is to be out of payne, that there is nothing woorſe then payne, and that pleaſure is the ende of all, whatſoeuer is good: alſo, that as for the fyrſt, they are the ſayinges but of fewe, but theſe the ſpeeches welnigh of al men, whereof ſome tymes the noyſe is ſo great, that theſe fewe voyces of thoſe that doo exhort, can not be heard, and the keepers of the Caſtles beyng made afearde, forſake their charge, and prouide for them ſelues by flyght. In this caſe, the minde whiche is doubtful and vncertaine to whiche ſyde to turne, ought to be reſcued with a freſhe force, that it fall not from it auncient perſwaſion, as ſometime dyd Dioniſius Heracleontes, who when on a time being ouercome with payne, he had reiected yt opinion of his Schoolemaiſter Zeno, concerning payne, he deſerued to be mocked of his Schoolefellow Cleantes Let him not, I ſay, forget, but reſiſt, and keepe his feete within the ſteppes which he hath poſſeſſed, vnderſtanding what is a true thing in deede, and what ſhadowed: neither let him be afearde of Bugges, nor moued at outcries, aſſuring him ſelfe, that payne is nothing but daſtardlineſſe, which daſtardlineſſe, as alſo paine, & death, and al difficult thinges may be ouercome by vertue. In this opinion let him continue fixed and vnmoueable, being redy valiantly to ſuffer that for vertue ſake, whiche is terrible vnto many to thynke vpon, which could neuer be doone by any man that had not loued the moſt ſinguler beautie of vertue, aboue the glittering of golde and precious ſtones, aboue the gleming of womens faces, or any other thyng that may be deſired. By this confirmation of the minde, both falſe opinions, and needleſſe feare is weakened, and the ſharpneſſe of payne aſwaged. And many tymes that commeth to paſſe, wherof Cicero ſpeaketh, that lyke as in battayle the Souldiour that is afearde, and throweth his weapon from hym, when he ſeeth his
enimie comming, and by runnyng away, falleth into danger, where, yf he had ſtoode to it, there had been none at al: euen ſo, the very imagination of payne, diſcomforteth a daſtardly minde, which yf it had been armed and furniſhed with vertue, ſhould haue eſcaped in fafetie, & gone away conquerour ouer payne, and haue fealt almoſt no greefe at al. For by patience not only the ſtrength of the minde is encreaſed, but alſo the ſharpneſſe of payne diminiſhed, and almoſt conſumed to nothyng: Whereby it commeth to paſſe, that in moſt horrible paynes, ſome haue borne them ſelues vpryght and vnmoueable, and otherſome haue been meerie, whiche coulde not haue been ſo, vnleſſe the minde being turned from feelyng the payne, had put on the ſame firmitude and conſtancie agaynſt it, whereof we noweſpeake.
Sorowe.
I begin to vnderſtande thee: but proceede to tell me what is the inwarde ſpeeche.
Reaſon.
That alſo wyll I tell thee. It is a valiant minde, whiche indifferently deſpiſeth pleaſure and payne, and wyl not yeelde awhitte vnto eythet: but when it perceyueth it ſelfe to be in danger, and beſette rounde with emmies, then taketh weapon in hand, and goyng forwarde, and animating it ſelfe to the conflict, talketh much with it ſelfe, and with it owne God: although Cicero, eyther knewe not this laſt, or knewe not how to doo it truely, not for lacke of witte, but for want of grace. Verily, then ſuche kinde of talke whereof I ſpeake, there is none more effectuall, eyther to the obſeruyng of comlyneſſe, or enflaming the ſtrength to the enſuing of thoſe thyngs, wherof we haue entreated, or to the brynging of our purpoſe to a wyſhed ende. Neuertheleſſe, there muſt not one ſort of woordes be vſed, both agaynſt the flatteries of pleaſure, and the threates of payne, but diuerſe, as it is an eaſie matter in eyther caſe for the ſkylfull, to diſcerne whiche are thoſe flatteries, and whiche the threates, and howe far inferiour they are vnto vertue. But becauſe we entreated but of the one of them, I wyll alſo alleage one example, but truely a notable one, by meanes whereof, thou mayſt be the more perfect in all the reſidue. And what is then this inwarde ſpeache, which is required in paine? Thou remembreſt what woordes the Poet Lucan maketh Pompeius
the great to vſe, among the ſwoordes of the murderers: but becauſe it is but a ſpeeche faigned by the Poet, according to the qualitie of the perſon, and expreſſed accordyng to the greatneſſe of the man, in ſuche woordes, as myght ſeeme agreable to the valure of his minde, being in that caſe: therefore wyll I let that paſſe, and recite another true and newe example, which many, that are yet alyue in this age, them ſelues haue ſeene. It is of the ſame couragious and inuincible auncient Samnite, who, when at the commaundement of hym, whoſe name it were better to ſuppreſſe in ſilence, he was drawen in a Cart naked about the Citie, ſittyng betweene two Tormentours, who with hotte glowyng tongues teared his fleſhe from the boones on euery ſyde, and the people wept to beholde ſo miſerable and heauie a ſpectacle, he with drye eyes, and graue conſtancie of voyce ſpeaking vnto him ſelfe, ſayde: What doo we, O my ſoule? Be of good comfort, I pray thee, and doo not faint, neyther be angrie, nor afearde: although this be paynefull for a tyme, it ſhall not continue long, but be profitable, doubt not, for our euerlaſtyng ſaluation, and this puniſhment be more greeuous vnto hym that commaunded it, then to thee that ſuffereſt it. Lift vp thy ſelfe, O ſoule, and abandon al feare, put thy truſt in GOD, & anon al ſhalbe at an ende. By which woordes, how great a boldneſſe he gathered to hym ſelfe, and engendred the lyke within the hartes of the hearers, it is incredible to be ſpoken: how great courage with compaſſion, conſtancie, ſecuritie, patience he procured to hymſelfe and others. Although, if it were diligently examined, this whereof we ſpeake, is no inward, but an outward ſpeeche, for that, as I haue ſaid, it was outwardly heard of many, yet this and ſuch lyke woordes may be ſpoken by other in ſilence, & perhaps were ſpoken ſo by him alſo, for ſomtime he held his peace, & ſomtime he brake foorth into theſe wordes which I haue recited. Moreouer, this inward ſpeech may be vnderſtoode another way: when as a man regardeth from whence it commeth, & not whither it is heard, as I ſuppoſe it verified in this man, when he ſpake with him ſelfe: but of one that in his paynes and dangers commoneth with God, there is no example more notable, then firſt of Iob, & ſecondly of Theodoſius: The one being ſtrooken by the hand of God, and full of botches,
with what after a manner chiding libertie doth he cal vpon God, and erect hym ſelfe vnto hym with a feruent and complayning deuotion? The other, with howe ſmal a trayne being beſet rounde with an innumerable armie of Barbarians, with what ardencie and ſighes dyd he cal vpon God as yf he had been preſent? Thou haſt heard the hiſtorie.
Sorowe.
I haue heard in deede, and remember it wyl, and by examples I vnderſtand what thou meaneſt, and I geue Cicero hartie thankes, from whoſe three ſmall graynes I haue reaped three great eares of corne, from whiche by due tillage and huſbandyng there may be gathered a great harueſt.
Reaſon.
True it is in deede, for the woordes of the learned are very fruiteful, and as it were withchylde, they conteine more matter then they ſhew for, inſomuch as thou ſeemedſt vnto me to haue forgotten thy paynes and plaintes as long as I talked with thee. Whereby thou gathereſt, that an earneſt imagination of an honeſt thyng, whereupon the whole mind is bent without with drawyng vnto any other matters, may procure great releife vnto al manner payne and greeuouſneſſe.
Sorowe.
It may be as thou ſayeſt in deede, howbeit I am very far from that health of mynde which thou pretendeſt, and I am greatly in doubt whether payne may be aſwaged, or taken away by them al, or whyther they be woordes that do only fyl the minde, and delite the eares, but nothyng at al appeaſe gr
•
eſe.
Reaſon.
Woordes, I confeſſe, cure not the body, vnleſſe
•
eraduanture enchauntmentes, and olde wyues charmes deſerue any credite, neuertheleſſe they cure the diſeaſes of the mynde, whoſe good health veryly eyther extinguiſheth or appeaſeth al bodily payne. If there were no pacience, learned men woulde neuer haue diſputed ſo muche of it, neyther ſo many argumentes hereof ſhould haue taken ſo firme hold faſt in their mindes, eyes, and eares. How many repreſentations of thinges doeſt thou reteine in memorie, how many examples haſt thou ſeene or read, howe many hiſtories haſt thou peruſed, in which it is not prooued, but manifeſtly declared, that this is ſo as I ſay: and that if al ſenſe of payne be not quenched through patience, which I hold opinion may be ſo, & oftentimes hath been found ſo, yet that the conqueſt is gotten ouer payne, & valure procured thereby to endure it manfully? What had Gneius Marius
in hym more then thou haſt, who was a man altogeather voyde of learnyng, but rych in martial vertues: was not he lykewyſe made of fleſhe, blood, and bones? What more had Mutius, and Pompeius? What Zeno, Theodorus, & Theodatus, Poſſidonius & Anaxarchus with others innumerable, wherof ſome being of a ſeruile degree, but of merueilous nobilitie of mynd, ſuſteyned al kindes of puniſhmente & tortures, not only with courage, but alſo with pleaſure? And yf ye woulde conuert your mindes and memories vnto your owne countrie folkes, ye ſhoulde finde among them very boyes and girles whiche haue ſuffered that with ioy, whiche you being men cannot abide without teares, and complayntes. But nowe I perceyue, how that I haue ſtayed vpon a matter of al other, as ye ſay, moſt difficult and ſharpe, longer then hath been my cuſtome to do, wherefore I thinke it meete to make an ende, ſeeing that yf vertue cannot mitigate payne, it were follie to expect to aſwage it with woordes.
Sorowe.
Alas, thou vrgeſt me at the one ſide, and payne vexeth me on the other, and I knowe not whiche to credite.
Reaſon.
Credite the nobleſt: wherein this wyl alſo muche aueile thee, to thinke vpon that moſt excellent and glorious light of the world, hym I meane, who in hym ſelfe vnited the nature of God and man, who endured ſo many & great tormentes for thy ſake, that thoſe which thou ſufreſt in reſpect thereof are but eaſie, yea ſweete, and to be counted a play. They that folowe this kynde of remedie ſhal perceyue that the Philoſophers knewe nothing.
Of Madneſſe. The .cxv. Dialogue.
FEARE.
I Am afeard leaſt ouermuch payne make me mad.
Reaſon.
Withſtande it by wholeſome and pleaſant thoughtes. Some through manifold paſſions and affections that are not good nor ſounde, do open the way vnto madneſſe, and at length fal into perfect furie, lyke as the Philoſophers holde opinion that contrariwyſe an aſſured habite or cuſtome of vertue is
gayned by often frequentyng the actions thereof.
Sorowe.
I am afeard of a frenzie.
Reaſon.
If it be lyke to come through ſome vice of the minde, arme it with vertue which is the proper armour therof: but yf of the body, thou muſt aſke counſell and ſuccour at the handes of the Phiſitions, whiche are the gouernours of mens bodyes. But yf ſo be that thou haue none neere vnto thee, or yf they that profeſſe that ſcience be vnſkylfull in thy diſeaſe, then wyl I preſcribe thee this one rule, to vſe abſtinence, and flee all exceſſe. It is no leſſe well knowen then auncient, howe that the holy fathers buylde their bodyes with vertue, wherein it muche auayleth both the body and minde to brydle Leacherie and Gluttonie. Many haue been ouerthrowen by leacherie, many oppreſſed by ſurfeite, many conſumed with ſleepe, many drowned in drunkenneſſe, and many through the feruencie and outrage of their lyfe, and the furious lycentiouſneſſe of their mynde, haue fallen into ſtarke madneſſe.
Feare.
I doubt, leaſt naturally I fall into a frenzie.
Reaſon.
That whiche nature bryngeth may be hard, but not miſerable: for why, it wanteth offence, whiche is the roote of miſerie. And ſeeing thou haſt the grace to foreſee it, folowe this aduice, that yf madneſſe cannot be eſchewed, yet at the leaſtwyſe it may finde thee in good and perfect eſtate of ſoule. For yf thou begyn to wax madde beyng an innocent and without ſinne, then ſhalt thou dye an innocent, or recouer an innocent. There is no age, no holineſſe, no wakefulneſſe that ſo wel preſerueth innocencie as madneſſe doth, looke in what caſe it taketh a man, in the ſame it leaueth hym.
Feare.
I am afearde to be mad.
Reaſon.
Art thou a fearde to haue great perſonages, Kinges and Queenes to be thy companions? Doeſt thou diſdayne Hercules and Aiax, Hecuba and Caſſandra: and in another kynde, Lucretia and Empedocles?
Feare.
I am afeard to be diſtraught.
Reaſon.
That diſtraught perſons haue vſed to prophecie of many thynges to come, we haue hearde ſay, in ſuche ſorte
that no wyſe man coulde do the lyke, to ſuche excellencie hath this vagarant and furious frenzie atteined. And this was the cauſe, why the Grecians termed that Mantice in their tongue, that is to ſay, furie, which you in yours cal Diuinatio prophecie.
Feare.
I abhor the force of madneſſe.
Reaſon.
We haue ſeene the ſober ſorowful, and the mad merie, although deceiued in their opinion: yea errour alſo hath it peculiar delites.
Feare.
The feare of beyng mad, moleſteth my minde.
Reaſon.
Some haue ſought after reſt from labour by counterfeit madneſſe, but true furie indeede wyl procure true reſt and quietneſſe.
Of Poyſon. The .cxvi. Dialogue.
FEARE.
I Feare poyſonyng.
Reaſon.
Abſtayne from eating and drynkyng commonly abrode, or thou careſt not with whom, vſe the diligence of thyne aſſured freendes about thee, ſuſpicious perſons expel out of thine houſe, drynke no thicke wynes, nor troubled drinkes, eſchue puddinges, ſauſages, froyſes, and al manner confected and mingled meates, be warie in thy feedyng, vſe temperance, and eate not to haſtily. Flee greedie deuouryng, whiche hath caſt away many both by this way, and by other kyndes of death. Whyle thou ſitteſt at the table let thy hande be ſlowe, thy eye quicke, thy mynde ſwyft, and mindeful of the danger, and let not thyne owne eyes, and mynde onely be attentiue, but vſe alſo the dilligence herein of thy freendes and ſeruantes. Great circumſpection preuenteth great dangers, and he that is careleſſe may ſoone be ouertaken.
Feare.
I ſtand in feare of poyſonyng.
Reaſon.
I haue taught thee a buſie medicine: but wylt thou heare the eaſieſt of al? Be poore, and thou ſhalt not neede to ſtand in heare of poyſonyng. For the meane degree is not in danger to this miſcheefe, but is the mother of ſecuritie, and expulſer of al terrours, and the moſt effectual and preſent remedie, whiche being denyed vnto none, is enforced vpon ſome agaynſt their wylles:
The ſame is of no leſſe vertue, then eaſie to be had, and doubtleſſe very ſafe to be vſed, although in the woorkyng ſomwhat rough and vnpleaſant. The vertues hereof are theſe: It repreſſeth the ſwellyng of the mynd, it clenſeth malice, it purgeth anger, and cureth the vnſatiable dropſie and deſire to drynke and haue, the the more aman hath and drynketh, and the cauſes of al dangers it plucketh vp by the rootes. Your ryches are ful of deceitfulneſſe and feare, they feare cuppes aſwell as ſwoordes, and diſhes no leſſe then dartes: there is neyther your table, nor your houſe, nor your chamber, nor your bed voyd of danger. Al thynges about you are vncertayne and ſuſpitious, and threaten vnto men preſent death: as Virgil ſpeaketh in a tempeſt, and may be verified of you in a calme, and al this is long of your ſweete ryches whiche ye loue ſo entirely. As for pouertie, ſauing that it is ſlaundrouſly reported of by the common people, and for the very name odious vnto them, al thynges are ſafe in it, and yf euer the vayne glorious deſire to be magnified by the multitude ſhoulde fayle, altogeather pleaſant, ſweete, quiet, and be wyſhed. But learne at length, you earthly creatures, to eate and drynke in glaſſen and earthen veſſels, yf ye wyl eate and drynke in ſafetie, for poyſon is mingled in cuppes of gold and precious ſtone. O couetouſneſſe, how farre wylt thou proceede? Yea, poyſon is in loue with gold and precious ſtones, agaynſt whiche moſt wretched plague, neyther the electuarie of Mithridates kyng of Pontus, nor of any other, be he neuer ſo cunnyng, is more effectual then is pouertie.
Sorowe.
I haue drunken poyſon, death ſwymmeth nowe in my entrailes.
Reaſon.
When thou haſt once perſwaded thy ſelfe that thou muſt dye, whiche al men muſt needes determine that remember them ſelues to be mortal, what ſkylleth it whether thou dye by thirſting or drynkyng, or whether imbrued with thine owne blood or with wyne? In this kynde of death thou ſhalt haue great perſonages that haue been drynkyng fellowes with thee of this confection, to wyt, Alexander, Hannibal, Philippomenes, Mithridates, Claudius hym ſelfe, Theramenes, and Socrates.
Of the feare of death. The .cxvii. Dialogue.
FEARE.
I Feare to dye.
Reaſon.
Herein thou oughteſt not to feare, but to muſe: which muſing of thyne, yf it began nowe firſt in thee, then hath it not growen vp with thee from thine infancie. But if it come vpon thee but by fittes, and is not continuall, then haſt thou lyued vnwyſely. For this moſt excellent and profitable aduice of the Poet Horace, ought moſt firmely to be engraffed within the very marrowe of thy bones. Betweene hope and care, and betweene feare & anger, thynke euery day to be the laſt that thou ſhalt lyue: that thou mayſt be ſuch an one as he ſpeaketh of in an other place. He ſhal leade his lyfe merily and vnder his owne gouernement, who is able to ſay euery day, I haue lyued: Let to morowe be fayre or foule whyle I am buſie, I do not care. And this forſooth is that, whiche the Philoſophers do ſo muche commend, to lyue the forepaſſed lyfe, whereof I haue ſpoken in an other place.
Feare.
I feare to dye.
Reaſon.
Thou ſhouldeſt haue feared alſo to be borne, & to lyue. The entrance into lyfe is the begynning of death, and lyfe it ſelfe is the paſſedge to death, or rather more truely a very death in deede. By lyuing eyther thou wenteſt towardes death, or rather, accordyng to the iudgement of the wyſe, thou beganſt euery houre to dye. Why ſhouldeſt thou then be afeard of death, yf death haue eyther dayly accompanied thy lyfe, or of neceſſitie do folowe it? The firſt of theſe the learned only do vnderſtand, the other the common people do perceyue: for what ſoeuer was borne, dyeth, and what ſoeuer dyeth, was borne.
Feare.
I am afearde to dye.
Reaſon.
Feareſt thou to dye, that art a reaſonable mortal creature, as the Philoſophers do diffine thee? But yf thou were veryly the firſt, I ſuppoſe thou wouldeſt not feare the ſecond, for that theſe two natures beyng ioyned in one, do fully accomplyſh the ſubſtance of man, to wyt, reaſon, and death. The one concerneth the ſoule, the other the body, but want of reaſon, hath brought in the feare of death.
Feare.
I feare death.
Reaſon.
Nothyng ought to be feared, which the neceſſitie
of nature importeth. Who ſo hateth or feareth the thinges that are naturall, muſt needes hate or feare nature it ſelfe. Vnleſſe perhaps it be lawful to commend and embrace the one part thereof, and to condemne and deſpiſe the other, then whiche there is nothyng more inſolent, not only in men towardes GOD, but alſo in one man towardes another. And therefore, eyther thou wholy receyueſt or reiecteſt thy freende, leaſt yf thou reape that only whiche is ſweete, thou ſeeme to be a partial iudge and louer of friendſhyp.
Feare.
I abhorre death.
Reaſon.
If there be any euyl in death, the ſame is encreaſed by the feare of death. But yf there be no euyl in death, the feare thereof is a great euyl: and it is a great follie for a man to procure, or encreaſe his owne harme.
Feare.
I deteſt the very name of death.
Reaſon.
The infirmitie of mankynde, hath made the name of death infamous. But yf men had any courage of minde, they would no more feare death, then they woulde al other thynges that come by courſe of nature. And why ſhouldeſt thou more feare to die, then to be borne, to growe vp, to hunger, to thirſt, to wake, to ſleepe. Wherof this laſt is ſo lyke death, that ſome haue termed it the couſin, and ſome the image of death. And that thou mayeſt not cal this manner of ſpeeche eyther a poetical colour, and a Philoſophical quirke, Ieſus Chryſt the truth it ſelfe called the death of his freend, a ſleepe: and art thou afeard to do that once, wherin thou takeſt pleaſure euerie day? This inconſtancie do the learned woonder at, and alſo reprooue.
Feare.
Theſe thinges are common and vſuall among the Philoſophers, and bring delite while they are heard: but when they leaue ſoundyng, feare returneth.
Reaſon.
Nay rather it remayneth: for if it were once gonne, it would not returne agayne: and moreouer there is a certayne feare of death naturally ingraffed within the hartes of the common multitude. But it is a ſhame for a learned man to haue the feelyng but of the vulgare ſort, whom it becommeth, as I ſayd erewhyle, not to folowe the ſteppes of the greater part, but of a fewe. And concernyng that whiche thou ſpeakeſt of Philoſophers, I muche merueyle, that ſince you learne the preceptes of ſaylyng of ſaylers, and of huſbandrie of huſbandmen, and alſo of warfare of warriours, ye refuſe to take aduice how to direct your
lyfe of the Philoſophers? And ſeeing you aſke counſel of Phiſitious for the cure of your bodyes, why do you not reſort alſo to Philoſophers for the ſaluing of your mindes, who if they be true Philoſophers in deede, they are both Phiſitions of your mindes, and the inſtructours of this lyfe? But yf they be counterfeites, and puffed vp onely with the bare name of Philoſophie, they are not only not to be ſought vnto for counſel, but to be auayded, then whom there is nothing more importunate, nothing more abſurde: of whom this age is muche more ful then I coulde wyſhe, and much more deſtitute of men, then I woulde it were. And therefore, ſeeing there is nothing els to be expected at the handes of them that are nowe preſent, but meare toyes and trifles: yet yf there be any thyng alleaged by them, whiche eyther they haue founde out them ſelues, or borowed of the auncient wryters, that may aſwage thy greefe, do not reiect it, nor ſay as do the vnlearned, this thou haddeſt out of the Philoſophers. For then wyl I anſwere thee with Cicero: I thought thou wouldeſt haue ſayde, of whores and bawdes.
And to ſay the trueth, where ſhoulde a man fiſhe or hunt, but where fiſhes and wylde beaſtes are, in the waters and wooddes? Where is golde to be digged, or precious ſtones to be gathered, but where they growe? For they are to be founde in the veines of the earth, and vpon the ſhoares of the ſea. Where are marchandizes to be had, but of merchantes? Where pictures and images, but of paynters and keruers? And laſt of al, where wylt thou expect Philoſophical ſawes, but at the Philoſophers handes? Whiche, although they lye hyd vp by them in their treaſuries and were firſt founde out by them, neuertheleſſe the ſame are ſet open and expounded by other, and that paraduenture more playnely, or more pithily, or more breefely: or laſtly diſpoſed in ſome other order and methode promiſing lyke hope vnto al that heare them, but bringing ſucceſſe vnto fewe. For ſuch is the force of order and good ioyning, as Horace very wel declareth in his Poeticalles, that one matter being diuerſly told repreſenteth a greater grace vnto ye mind of the hearer, yea though it be a common thing that is told, ſuch noueltie may be added vnto that which is old, and ſuch light vnto that whiche is euident, and ſuche beawtie vnto that whiche is fayre:
whiche I haue not nowe vttered, as lackyng ſome other place more conuenient therevnto, but becauſe thou miniſtredſt occaſion at this preſent. For I woulde not haue thee, doo, as it is the maner of blinde and ignorant pryde, to diſdayne vulgare and vſuall thynges whiche thou haſt heard once, and neuer vnderſtoode.
Feare.
I yeelde vnto thee, for I ſee that thou art very redie in theſe admonitions, although far from effect to me wardes: for I feare death yet neuerthelatter.
Reaſon.
There be certayne thynges in name and opinion of men greater then in effect: certayne afarre of, haue ſeemed terrible, whiche at hande haue been ridiculous. It were no wyſedome to beleeue the vnexpert: there is not one of theſe defamers of death that can ſpeake any thyng to the purpoſe, for being vnexpert, he can learne nothing at all, neyther can he be inſtructed in any matter by one that is vnexpert alſo. Aſke a queſtion of a dead man, & he wyl anſwere nothyng, and yet it is he that knoweth the trueth. They wyl babble moſt, that knowe death leaſt, and prophecie moſt vaynely of it, wherein they haue leaſt ſkyll. Whereby it commeth to paſſe, that by ſome, death is made the moſt manifeſt thyng, and of otherſome, the moſt hydden ſecret, and this coniecturall caſe is diuerſly toſſed in ſuſpition. But in doubtfull matters, it is good to cleaue to the beſt opinion, and to holde that, whiche ſhall make the minde rather merrie then dumpyſhe.
Feare.
My ſoule feareth death.
Reaſon.
If in reſpect of it ſelfe, that feare is vayne, for that the ſoule is immortall: But yf in reſpect of the bodye, it is a thankleſſe pittie, to be careful of it enimie. But if it feare to be diſſolued, it is to much in loue with it owne priſon and bondes, whiche were but a verie foolyſhe affection.
Feare.
I am troubled with the feare of death.
Reaſon.
All fooles are afearde to dye: and noe marueyle, for all their felicitie is in theyr bodye, whiche doubtleſſe is by death extinguiſhed. And therefore, not without cauſe, good men are ſorie to heare of theyr ende, and heauie to beholde it. For this is the nature of man, that he can not lyue without deſyre not to be vnhappie. It becommeth a learned man, who maketh no other accompt of his bodye, then of a vyle Drudge and fylthie Carkaſſe, whoſe dilligence, and loue, and hope, and ſtudie, is wholy repoſed
vpon his minde, to eſteeme of the death of this bodye none otherwiſe, then as of his departure in the morning, out of ſome vnpleaſant and noyſome lodging.
Feare.
I can not chooſe but feare death.
Reaſon.
Thou mayeſt refuſe to feare the departure out of this lyfe, yf thou canſt hope or wyſhe for the entrance into an other: For hereof it is that the ſame feare ryſeth. And although there be commonly diuers cauſes alleaged of the feare of this departure, neuertheleſſe they vaniſhe away, when the hope of that other life is laide before the eyes.
Feare.
I dread death.
Reaſon.
The dread thereof is ſpecially engendred by the lacke of meditating thereon, and the ſudden neceſſitie of dying, whiche in a learned and wyſe man is moſt ſhameful, but ſpecially in an olde man, whoſe whole courſe and order of lyfe, yf he be learned and wyſe indeede, ought to be a continuall meditation of death, Whiche if it ſeemed ſo vnto the auntient Philoſophie, what may it nowe appeare vnto your new deuotion, which is the hygh Philoſophie, and the true wiſedome? Conſider the maner of them that are commaunded vpon a ſudden to goe ſome far iourney, how ſadde and careful they are to make vp their carriage, and how they complaine at their departure, and in a maner, repine that they had no longer warning before: ſo that as ſoone as their backes are turned, they thinke vpon neceſſaries, which they haue forgotten, and are diſcontented therewith. Now, there is no way longer, then to dye, none harder as they ſay, none more noyſome for Theeues, none more obſcure, none more ſuſpicious, nor more vncertaine, which though it wanted al theſe, yet is it vnreturneable. By meanes whereof ye ought to be the more diligent, leaſt haply ye forgette any thing, for that when ye are once departed from hence, ye can no longer doo as they that occupie other trades, or vndertake whatſoeuer other iourney, that is to ſay, commit ſuche thynges by their letters or meſſengers vnto their freendes to ſee vnto, as they them ſelues haue left forgotten. For ye are not able to ſende any meſſage backe, nor to ſtay in the place where ye were, nor to returne agayne. Ye muſt needes goe hence, it is not poſſible for you to returne: ye muſt needes goe thyther, Souldiers, from whence it is not needefull that ye come backe agayne. Thus in Seneca ſayde the Romane
Captayne to his men, and thus alſo ſayth your Captayne to you. And therefore ſeeyng ye muſt needes depart and come no more, and that the neceſſitie of your iourney is very certayne, but the houre of death vncertayne, this is your onely remedie, to be alwayes readie in mind, to anſwere when ye are called, and to obey when ye are commaunded, and when all thinges are diſpoſed in good order, at your Captaines fyrſt commaundement, to goe foorth on you iourney couragiouſly, which ye muſt needes take in hand eyther willingly, or in ſpite of your beardes. This mee thinketh, ſhould very muche abate your feare and payne of death, and make you not onely careleſſe, but alſo deſyrous to depart hence. Otherwyſe, yf ye be vnprouided and take no regarde, the ſame may befall vnto you, whiche Cicero once truely in his Epiſtles prophecied vnto his freende Brutus: Ye ſhalbe ſuddenly oppreſsed, beleeue me freende Brutus, quoth he, vnleſse ye foreſee and make prouiſion. And ſo truely it hapneth in deede, I ſay, vnto all that vſe no forecaſt in that which is lyke to happen vnto them hereafter. And ſeeyng prouidence in all thinges is very neceſſarie, yet is it ſpecially to be regarded in thoſe thynges whiche can be done no more but once, wherein one errour ſufficeth: for whereſoeuer the foote ſlyppeth, there is an ende.
Sorowe.
Now doo I verie muche abhorre death.
Reaſon.
Thynges deepely rooted, are not eaſily plucked vp. I knowe well, as I ſayde, that the feare of death is engraffed within the mindes and ſenſes of men, ſpecially of the vulgar ſort. As for the Philoſophers, they account death neyther good nor bad, for that they recken it a thyng of it ſelfe neyther to be wyſhed nor feared, but number it among thynges indifferent, whiche in reſpect of thoſe that enioy them, ſome tyme they tearme good, and ſome tyme euyll. Which thyng I perceyue well to be lyked of one of your religion, who ſayde, that the death of ſinners was euyll, but of the Saintes and vertuous men moſt precious.
Sorowe.
I feare death, I hate death.
Reaſon.
From whence this feare and hatred of death commeth vnto men, verily I ſhoulde muche merueyle, were it not that I knewe the daintineſſe of your mindes, whereby ye nouryſhe and encreaſe this and ſuche lyke degenerate
kindes of feare. Dooeſt thou not perceyue, howe that the greater part of men are afearde of the very name of death? Whiche, what is it other, then to abhorre your owne nature, and to hate that whiche ye are borne to be, then whiche, there is nothyng more vayne among men, nor more vnthankefull towardes GOD. Howe many are there whiche with greefe doo heare that name, whiche ought alwayes to beate vppon the inner eare? Without the whiche, there is no man that can thinke vppon him ſelfe: for what ſhould he thinke him ſelfe to be other then a mortal creature? As often as a man turneth backe into the conſideration of him ſelfe, doth not the name of death preſently come into his minde? But ye abhor that, as though death would force in at the eare, and ye turne away your mindes, & ſtriue to forget that, which wyl by and by compel the moſt vnwilling of you al, to haue it in remembrance. For loe, ye refuſe to thinke vpon death, which not long after, ye muſt of neceſſitie both thinke vpon, & alſo ſuffer, the inſult whereof, would a great deale the more eaſely be borne, yf it were thought vpon before: but now that both of them are brought to a narrowe poynt together, the one of them exaſperateth ye other. For euery thing that is vnthought on & ſudden, ſhaketh the ſoule. It is as much follie to couet a thing in vaine, as to be deſirous to auoyde that which thou canſt not, & they are both of them the more fooliſh, by how much it had ben the more hurtful that thou haddeſt obteyned that, which thou deſireſt. But there is nothing more hurtful amongſt al the miſchiefes of this worlde, then to forget GOD, a mans owne ſelfe, and death, which three thynges are ſo vnited and knytte together, that they may hardly be plucked aſunder: but ye wyll ſeeme to be mindfull of your ſelues, and vnmindfull both of your begynnyng and ending. Thou mayeſt marke them, that vpon ſome occaſion ſet all thinges in order in theyr houſes, howe there is ſcarce any that dare ſay, when I am dead, but yf I dye, as though that were in doubt, then the which there is nothyng more certayne. Neyther is this ſaying, If I dye, plainely pronounced, but rather yf any thyng happen vnto me otherwyſe then well: whiche what I pray thee can it other be, then the ſelfe ſame thyng that hath hapned vnto all men, or ſhall happen both vnto them that are nowe alyue, or that ſhall be borne
hereafter? Vnto whom as there hath hapned ſundrie kindes of lyfe, ſo ſhall there lykwyſe befall diuers kindes of death, but one neceſſitie of dying. The ſame doeſt thou couet to eſcape, whiche neyther thy Fathers, neyther the Kinges of nations coulde euer eſcape, nor euer ſhal. Deceiue your ſelues as much as ye lyſt, euen ſo ſhall it happen vnto you, as it doth vnto them that winke againſt the ſtroke of their enimies weapon, as though they ſhould not feele the danger which they ſee not: ye ſhal be ſtroken, ye ſhal dye, ye ſhall feele it: but whether it ſhal happen vnto you eyther blinde, or ſeeing, it lyeth in your handes. Therefore deſire to dye well, which thing alſo, vnleſſe ye doo lyue well, is in vaine. Wyſh therefore, I ſay, and endeuour your ſelues, and doo what lyeth in you: commit that whiche remayneth vnto him, who vnto thoſe whom he brought into this lyfe of his owne accorde, not being therevnto required, wyll not ſtretch foorth his handes when they depart out of it agayne, vnleſſe he be called on and deſyred. Wyſhe not, not to dye: for it is not onely an impudent and an arrogant, but alſo an vnfruitfull and a vayne deſyre. Accuſtome your ſelues, O ye mortall men, vnto the lawes of nature, and yeelde your neckes to that yoke which can not be auoyded. And yf ye loue your ſelues, loue that whiche ye are borne, not becauſe ye woulde that ye had not been borne: for it is not meete that Nature ſhoulde obey you, but you her.
Feare.
I haue long aſſayed in vayne, to caſt away the feare of death.
Reaſon.
I muſe thou ſhouldeſt ſo long aſſay a matter, wherevnto thyne owne voluntarie thinking ought to bring thee. To thinke ſo much vpon ſo ſmall a danger, is a great ſhame, if ſo be it may be called a danger, or not rather an ende of all dangers, to dye: a great ſhame, I ſay, it is, for a man ſo long to continue in the feare of ſo ſmall and peeuiſhe a peryll, and ſo many yeeres to lyue in feare and ſuſpenſe, for the euent of breathing one poore houre. But wouldeſt thou haue the moſt preſent remedie agaynſt this euyll, and be delyuered from the perpetuall feare of death? Then lyue well: a vertuous lyfe deſpiſeth death, and many tymes deſireth it: and to be ſhort, it is the ende of all terrible thynges. For labour, payne, ſorowe, aduerſitie, infamie, impriſonment, exile, loſſe, warre, bondage, lacke of chyldren, pouertie, oldeage, ſickneſſe,
death, all theſe vnto men of valure, are nothyng els, then the ſchoole of Experience, and the feelde of Repentaunce, and the exerciſe place of Glorie.
Of Voluntarie murthering a mans owne ſelfe. The .Cxviij. Dialogue.
FEARE.
I AM determined to doo violence vnto my ſelfe.
Reaſon.
At one tyme to feare a thyng, and at another to wyſhe for it, this is al the conſtancie that you haue. Erwhyle, womaniſhly thou fearedſt death, and now vnmanly thou ſeekeſt the ſame: tel me, I pray thee, what ſudden chaunce hath chainged thy mind?
Feare.
I am enforced to do violence vnto my ſelfe.
Reaſon.
If thou be enforced, then is it not voluntarie violence, although it be ſayd, that a conſtrained wyll, is a wyll: yet truely it is no free wyl, neither that wyl which properly taketh the name à volendo, of willing. But I would fayne know, by whom thou art enforced. Whoſo is vnwilling, may haue violent handes layde vpon hym, but thou canſt doo thy ſelfe no violence, vnleſſe thou were willing thereunto.
Feare.
There are great cauſes that enforce me to be willing to die.
Reaſon.
They be great in deede, I coufeſſe, yf they enforce thee, but they coulde not enforce thee, yf thou were a man. But there is nothyng ſo weake, that it can not ouerthrowe the delicacie of your mindes: and hearken now whether I can not directly gheaſſe theſe cauſes: anger, diſdaine, impatiencie, a certayne kynde of furie agaynſt a mans owne ſelfe, and the forgetfulneſſe of his owne eſtate. For yf thou dyddeſt remember that thou were a man, thou wouldeſt alſo knowe that thou oughteſt to take all worldly chaunces in good part, and not for the hatred of one ſmall euyll, or rather no euyll at all, to be willyng to fal into the greateſt euyll of all.
Feare.
By reaſon of extreame miſerie, I am conſtrayned, to lay violent handes vpon my ſelfe.
Reaſon.
It is not extreame miſerie, neither are they the greateſt euylles that oppreſſe thee, but this is the moſt extreame of al other which now enrageth thee, to wit, deſperation: agaynſt which onely, when as all other euylles haue their peculiar
remedies, there is no medicine that can preuayle. And which be theſe that thou calleſt ex
•
reame euylles, but onely labour perhaps, and trouble, and pouer
•
ie? For theſe are they, whereof the Poet Virgil intreateth, ſaying: Theſe without cauſe procured their owne death, and hating this lyght, powred out their owne ſoules. Of whoſe too late repentance, he addeth immediatly: Howe glad woulde they now be, returnyng into this worlde agayne, to abyde pouertie, and ſuffer all troubles and aduerſitie? Are theſe ſo great euyls, whereof the fyrſt all good and vertuous men endured with a valiant and indifferent minde, and ſome more ouer dyd wyllingly chooſe it, and thereby became glorious and riche in the euerlaſtyng riches? That the worlde is meete for men, we reade in Saluſt, and that man was made for that intent, we finde it written in the holy and afflicted good old man. But you, beyng of al creatures the moſt vnquiet, yf thinges fal not out according to your couetous deſyre, or letcherous luſt, ye thynke that ye haue iuſt cauſe to kyll your ſelues? So delicate and haſtie headlong is your laſciuiouſneſſe, that vpon the leaſt cauſe that may be, ye are not onely angrie with Fortune, but alſo with your ſelues; & farther
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icking againſt GOD hymſelfe, ye ſcoure your blaſphemouſ
•
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ithes agaynſt him, as though euery thing wherein your Lord and God fulfylleth not your minde, were an haynous iniurie agaynſt you.
Feare.
I am ſo oppreſſed, with great euylles, that to chooſe A woulde dye.
Reaſon.
For the loathſomneſſe of thy lyfe, perhaps, which is a familiar fault among all fooles For vnto the wyſe, euery kynde of lyfe is pleaſant: the happie lyfe they accept willingly, the miſerable lyfe they indure patiently, and although in the thinges themſelues they take final comfor
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, yet are they delyghted in the exerciſe of patience: for there is nothing more acceptable, nor more ſ
••
e
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e, then veritie. The ſame is that which aſſwageth greefes) amendeth what is anuſſe, mo
••
fieth that whiche is harde, mit
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igateth th
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ir whiche is ſharpe, ſi
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otheth that whiche is rough, and l
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uellech that whiche is vne
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en. In conſyderation hereof complainte or
〈◊〉
, and haſtie headlongneſſe hath an ende, and to be breefe, there is nothing more glorious nor quiet, then a wyſe mans lyfe. As for theſe teares, and greefes of the minde, theſe cloudes and troubleſome
ſtormes whiche driue the barke of this lyfe vpon the rockes, they ſpryng from follie onely.
Feare.
Impaciencie of ſicknes maketh me deſirous to dye.
Reaſon.
Thy deſyre is fond and proude. Let the Lorde alone, to diſpoſe of thy bodye, accordyng to his owne determination and good pleaſure. Wylt thou looke to haue more aucthoritie ouer thine owne buyldyng, whereof thou haſt made neyther Timber nor Stone, and wherein there is nothing thine, but only ye buylding, and wylt thou not geue lykewyſe ſembleable libertie vnto the Lorde and maker of all the worlde, who in the ſame hath not onely created the ſpirite, the fleſhe, the blood, and the bones, but alſo heauen, the earth, the ſeas, and all thynges that are therein, of nothyng? Say not within thy ſelfe, My bodye is greeuouſly tormented with payne. For thou haſt receyued no dominion euer thy bodye, but onely a vſe thereof for a certayne ſhort tyme. Thynkeſt thou thy ſelfe to be Lorde and Maiſter ouer this thyne houſe of Clay? Verily, thou art but a ſtranger, he that made all, is Lorde of all.
Sorowe.
With exceeding payne I am conſtrayned to be deſyrous to die.
Reaſon.
Perhaps this payne is layde vpon thee for thine experience, whiche yf it be troubleſome and greeuous vnto thee, then may it be profitable: but yf intollerable, then can it not long continue. Attende the commaimdement of the Lorde that detayneth thee, and anſweare when thou art called, and not before. Thy daye is appoynted, whiche poſſibly thou canſt not preuent, nor yet prolong. Howheit, many haue preuented it in deede, and goyng about to auoyde a ſmal & ſhort greefe haue caſt them ſelues headlong intoirreuocable & euerlaſting tormentes. This opinion hath had great defenders. Fyrſt Anneus Seneca, who ſo conſtantly and often falleth into the mentionyng thereof, inſomuche that it ſeemeth vnto me that he feared, leaſt it ſhoulde not appeare to be his
••
b
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e, and maketh me ſometyme to wonder, bowe ſo cruell a
•
opinion coulde enter into the hart of ſo woorthie a man. And to
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et that paſſe, whiche it were too long to recite, in a certayne Epiſtle vnto Lucilius: If,
ſayth he, the bodye be vnfytte for the ordinarie and conuenient actions▪ why ſhoulde not a man ſet the greened ſoule at libertie? And immedialy after a fewe woordes betweene: I wyl leape, quoth he,
out of this rotten and ruinous buyldyng. But O Seneca, thou ſayeſt not wel, and with one euyl ſaying haſt diſgraced a great many good ſayinges. For thou oughteſt to abyde, and not to depart: let thy buyldyng fal downe, that thou be driuen out of doores before thou depart.
Sorowe.
I cannot ſuffer the thynges that are lyke to happen vnto me, I had rather dye.
Reaſon.
Perhaps for ſome death whiche ſhalbe inflicted vpon thee by an enimie, whiche beyng valiantly vndertaken can not be ſhameful, but voluntarily procured by thine owne hand, cannot but be reprochful and ignominious, for that it is contrarie to the commaundement of the moſt hygh Lorde, agaynſt whiche nothyng can be wel done.
Sorowe.
I had rather dye, then to ſee the thynges that are lyke to happen ſhortly.
Reaſon.
It is not the part of a man, not to be able with open eyes to behold both faces of fortune: it is the part of a woman, to turne away the eyes in feare. What is the thyng that troubleth thee ſo muche, that nothyng can helpe thee but death only? Is it thine owne, or thy freendes, or perhaps the aduerſitie of thine afflicted countrye? As for the firſt two, they are but gentle: for fortune is not ſo ſtrong, but vertue is able to withſtand it the thirde is godly, but the loue thereof is fainte and ſlouthful. For the bondage and captiuitie of a mans countrey, and the gouernement thereof in manner of a Tirannie, is rather to be repelled by death, then auoyded by ſteppyng a ſide. For the firſt is the part of a man, but this taſteſt of womanyſhe imbecillitie. Whiche thyng notwithſtandyng the ſame Seneca doth woonderfully extol in the death of Cato in that ſame his peculiar opinion, whereof I ſpake erewhyle. But Cicero thinkyng it ſufficient to excuſe him only, abſtaineth from commending him. For he ſayth, that vnto Cato that was a man of ſuch wonderful grauitie, and perpetual conſtancie of nature, it was better to dye then to looke the Tyrant in the face: whom Brutus notwithſtandyng behelde, and thought it better to make hym away by kyllyng hym, then by kyllyng hym ſelfe. Whiche how wel or ill it was done, I do not now diſpute. But ſo in deede he did. As for Cicero, whyle he excuſeth Cato, he forgetteth his owne more commendable opinion, whiche long before he had ſet downe in his ſixth booke De republica, of a commonwealth,
whiche is after this manner folowyng: whiles that he bringeth in Publius Scipio Affricanus the younger dreaming, howe that he talked in heauen with his father and graundfather, and hearyng them ſpeake of the immortalitie of the ſoule, and the felicitie of the other lyfe, made hym deſirous to dye, and brought in his father by and by reprouing the ſame his fonde and vnprofitable deſyre, in theſe woordes. It may not be ſo, quoth he: for vnleſſe God, whoſe churche al this is which thou beholdeſt, doo looſe thee out of theſe bondes of thy bodye, thou canſt haue none entrance hyther. For men were created for this cauſe, that they ſhoulde beholde the globe whiche thou ſeeſt in the middeſt of this temple, whiche is called the earth. Wherefore, good ſonne Publius, both thou, and alſo al vertuous men, ought to keepe your ſelues within the cuſtodie of this your bodye, and not to depart out of the lyfe of man contrarie vnto his commaundement, by whom that lyfe was geuen vnto you, leaſt happely ye ſeeme to forſake the vocation whereunto God hath called you. Doo not theſe woordes of Cicero ſufficiently reprooue Cato. that is excuſed? And truely, yf thou were appoynted by ſome earthly Prynce or Captayne to keepe a place by defence of armes, thou wouldeſt not dare to depart from thy charge without his lycence, whiche yf thou ſhouldeſt doo, doubtleſſe he woulde take it in ill part. Howe then woulde the heauenly Emperour take it, thynkeſt thou, vnto whom ſo muche the more obedience ought to be geuen, by howe muche God is greater then man? There was of late dayes one Stephanus Columnenſis, a gentleman of auncient vertue, who yf lie had lyued had not onely been famous in this age, but alſo in remembrance of al poſteritie. The ſame Stephanus beyng beſieged by a mightie enimie of his, vnto whom he was in power far vnequal, committed the defence of one turret, wherein there ſeemed to be moſt danger, vnto one of his captaynes, of whoſe truſt he was aſſured. This turret being vndermined and ſecretly ſhaken by the enimies, ſo that it was in danger of fallyng, when as the reſidue of the gariſon perceyuing ſo much forſooke it, and perſwaded hym alſo to come downe and prouide for his ſafety, ſince it was booteleſſe to tarrie, but vnto him ſelfe very dangerous or rather preſent
death: I wyl not come downe, (ſayde he) vnleſſe he cal me away who ſet me here. Which being reported vnto Stephanus, who alſo was very careful for the gentleman, & came running in baſt to cal hym away, the turret beyng ſhaken at the very foundation, fel downe immediatly with great noyſe. Thus that truſtie defendant was miſerably ſlayne, whom his lord and maiſter beyng ſcarcely able to finde out among the rubbiſhe and ruynes of the turret, buryed hym with great ſorowe and lamentation, and whyle he lyued had a dutiful care ouer hym, and in his common ſpeeche alwayes aduaunced his fayth with worthy commendation. What I meane by theſe wordes, I thinke thou knoweſt. Suche a keeper oughteſt thou to be of thy body, whiche is committed vnto thy keepyng by God, as he was of his turret, which was commended to his charge by his lorde and maiſter. Notwithſtandyng, I am not ignorant, howe that the death of Cato was muche commended by many of that age wherein he lyued, and very glorious in the common opinion of men. And that ſaying of Iulius Caeſar is wel knowen, who beyng conquerour and making haſt vnto Vtica, where Cato had ſlayne hym ſelfe, and hearyng report of his death: Cato, quoth he, enuyed my glory, and I enuie his death. Doubtleſſe it ſeemed ſome excellent thyng, whiche ſo great and glorious a perſonage enuied at.
Sorow.
Then what ſhoulde let me to folow the death of a wyſe man that was enuied at by ſo great a perſon, and excuſed, and commended of the wyſe, and to eſchewe the innumerable diſtreſſes of lyfe by a voluntarie death? Truely I had rather dye.
Reaſon.
Beware that thou be not caryed away with the vayne hope of hynges. For there be ſome inferiour in eloquence but ſuperiour in ſenſe, whiche neyther commend nor excuſe this death of Cato, but ſharpely reprehende it. Among whom Sainct Auguſtine, a moſt ſharpe ſearcher after the truth, diſputeth, that this was not the cauſe of the haſtenyng of his owne death becauſe he woulde not lyne vnder the empire of Caeſar, togeather with his ſonne: foraſmuche as he hym ſelfe was the cauſe that his ſonne fledde to Caeſar, and in hope of ſafetie ſubmitted hymſelfe to his mercy, wherein he was not deceyued. Whiche yf he had thought to
haue been a ſhameful thyng, would he not haue delyuered his ſonne from it as wel as hym ſelfe, eyther by poyſon, or by ſword, or by ſome other kynde of death whatſoeuer? Seeing that Manlius Torquatus is commended for killyng his owne ſonne, for that he had geuen battel to his enimies and vanquiſhed them, but contrarie to his fathers commaundement. Neyther can it be ſayde, that it is a more ſhameful thing to be conquerour ouer a proude enimie, then to be ſubiect to an arrogant conquerour. Why then dyd he thinke Caeſar woorthy to graunt lyfe to his ſonne, who thought hym vnworthie and enuied at hym that he ſhould graunt lyfe vnto hymſelfe? And to conclude, he findeth that only enuie was the cauſe of his death, whiche Caeſar hym ſelfe did not diſſemble, as we ſayde erewhyle. For what coulde he other feare, or why could he not abyde hym to be his prince, by whom not long before he was banyſhed the ſenate, and committed to pryſon? So that he that ſlue not hym ſelfe in ſo great and preſent an iniurie, why ſhoulde he nowe ſlaye hym ſelfe for a vayne feare, or falſe opinion of pryde, or crueltie? What terror was there expreſſed in Caeſars face, that he ſhoulde ſeeke to auoyde the ſame by death, who not only of all men, but of al Tirantes and Prynces was the moſt gently and mercifull? For although Cato had neuer ſeene any more myghtie, yet truely in that age had he ſeene many more cruel, but truely neuer ſawe he any more merciful. And therefore ryghtly ſayeth another excellent wryter, famous both for credite and eloquence: It ſeemeth vnto me, ſayth he, that Cato ſought an occaſion to dye, not ſo muche to eſcape Caeſars handes, as to folowe the decrees of the Stoykes whom he immitated, and by ſome notable deede to leaue his name famous vnto poſterytie. What harme woulde haue happened vnto him if he had lyued, I do not perceyue, For ſuche was the clemencie of Caius Caeſar, that in the greateſt heate of the ciuile warres, he would ſeeme to do nothing els but to deſerue wel of the common wealth, prouiding alwayes for the ſafetie of Cicero, and Cato.
Loe, behold another cauſe of his death beſide enuie, to wit, a vayne follie, both which were farre vnwoorthy of the perſon of Cato, and yet neyther of them ſufficient to preuent
a mans owne death.
Sorowe.
I had rather dye, then lyue thus.
Reaſon.
Howe knoweſt thou, whether this lyfe whiche ſeemeth greeuous vnto thee, be deſired of many, or enuied of the moſt? But your impatiencye maketh all thynges more greeuous.
Sorow.
I deſire to dye.
Reaſon.
As from the feareful to force the feare of death, ſo to wreaſt from the deſperate the hatred of lyfe, is a hard matter. Neuertheleſſe this is the effect of our remedie, to beare this lyfe with indifferencie, and to looke for death valiantly.
Of Death. The .cxix. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Dye.
Reaſon.
Now thou art come to the laſt caſt: nowe canſt thou neyther feare death nor wyſhe for it, of both whiche thou haſt alredie wearied me in many diſcourſes next before written. Hereafter thou ſhalt neyther be in ſorowe nor in paine, neyther be ſubiect to the defaultes of the body, nor minde: neyther ſhalt thou be wearied with the tediouſneſſe of any thing, nor with ſickeneſſe, nor with olde age, nor with deceites of men, nor with the varietie of fortune, al whiche yf they be euyl, then is the ende of euyl, good. Not long ſince thou complaynedſt of al theſe, and nowe thou findeſt fault with the ende of them: beware that thou ſeeme not iniurious, for beyng ſory for the begynning of a thing, and the endyng of the ſame.
Sorowe.
I dye.
Reaſon.
Thou ſhalt walke the way of thy fathers, or rather the broade and worne way of thy prediceſſors: haddeſt thou rather that there ſhoulde happen vnto thee ſome peculiar accident, I wote not what? Goe forward on thy way, thou needeſt not be a frayde of goyng amiſſe, thou haſt ſo many leaders and companions of thy iourney.
Sorowe.
Alas I dye.
Reaſon.
If there be any that hath cauſe to weepe when he dyeth, he ought to be aſhamed to haue laughed when he lyued, knowyng that he had cauſe at hand and alwayes hanging ouer his head ful ſoone to make hym weepe, whoſe laughter, doubtleſſe, was not farre diſioyned from weeping.
Sorowe.
I dye.
Reaſon.
He is not to be ſuffred,
that be waileth the eſtate of his owne kynde. Thou ſhouldeſt not dye vnleſſe thou were mortal. But if thou be ſorie becauſe thou art mortal, thou haſt no cauſe to complayne, when thou ſurceaſeſt to be that which thou waſt agaynſt thy wyl. Thou ſhouldeſt haue lamented at the begynnyng when thou beganſt to be that whiche thou wouldeſt not: but now thou oughteſt to reioyce, for that thou begynneſt to be immortal.
Sorowe.
I dye.
Reaſon.
Al theſe that lately ſtoode about thy bed, and moreouer al that euer thou haſt ſeene, or heard or read of, and as many as euer thou waſt able to knowe ſince thou waſt borne, as many as euer heretofore haue ſeene this lyght, or ſhal hereafter be borne in al the worlde, and to the worldes ende, either haue or ſhal paſſe through this iorney. Beholde in thy minde as wel as thou canſt, the long troupes of them that are gone before, or of thoſe that ſhal folowe hereafter, and alſo the number not ſmall of thy companions and coequales in yeeres, who dye with thee euen at this preſente: and then I thinke thou wylt be aſhamed to bewayle a common caſe with thy pryuate complayntes, when as among ſo many thou ſhalt not finde one whom thou mayeſt enuie at.
Sorowe.
I dye.
Reaſon.
This is to be impaſſible, and to goe about to ſhake of the yoake both of fortune, and death: a double great good, whiche no proſperitie can geue vnto any lyuing creature. Thinke with thy ſelfe, howe many and howe great cares, howe many paynefull traueyles there were remayning yet vnto thee yf thou lyuedſt I ſay not an infinite lyfe, but the ſpace of a thouſand yeeres, when as there is alotted vnto thee a lyfe but onely of one dayes ſpace: wherein yf thou make an indifferent eſtimation, thou ſhalt perceyue the toyles and weariſomeneſſe of this ſhort, tranſitorie, and vncertayne lyfe, and alſo thine owne greefes and vexations whiche thou haſt ſuſteyned.
Sorow.
I dye.
Reaſon.
In ſuche forte ye bewayle death, as though lyfe were ſome great matter, whiche yf it were, then were the flyes, and emmotes, and ſpyders, partakers of the ſame. If lyfe were alwayes a commoditie, then were death euermore a diſcommoditie, whiche ſometyme is founde to be a great benefite when as it delyuereth the ſoule from intollerable
euyles, or diſchargeth or els preſerueth the ſoule from ſinne that is to come, whiche is the greateſt euyl of all. But as vertue is onely a great thyng among you, ſo yf this lyfe be conſidered by it ſelfe as it is, it is the ſtoare houſe of innumerable miſeries: for the ſhuttyng vp whereof whoſo is ſorowfull, the ſame taketh it not well that euyles doo ſurceaſe, and hateth quyetneſſe: and he that coueteth the ſame, it muſt needes be that he couet the ende of a payneful and troubleſome lyfe. Then yf there be noneother ende of toyles and euyles, why doeſt thou weepe for it? That day is nowe at hande, which yf it were prolongued, thou wouldeſt wyſhe for it, and perhaps ſuche is the worlde, the power of fortune ſo great and her chaunces ſo variable, that thou haſt oftentymes alredie wiſhed for it.
Sorowe.
I dye.
Reaſon.
Nay rather thou departeſt out of an earthly and tranſitorie houſe, vnto the heauenly and euerlaſtyng habitation, and thy foote beyng vpon the very threſholde thou art ſorowfully and vnwyllyngly plucked away, and carefully thou lookeſt behynde thee, I wot not wherefore, whether forgettyng thy fylthyneſſe which thou leaueſt behynde thee, or not beleeuyng the great good vnto whiche thou art goyng. And truely, yf as I ſayde before, whiche notable men haue alſo auerred, this whiche you cal lyfe be death, then it foloweth that the ende thereof whiche is death, be lyfe.
Sorow.
I dye.
Reaſon.
Thy kyng ſetteth thee at libertie, nowe the bandes and fetters are broken, whiche it pleaſed your louyng father to make mortal and tranſitorie. Whiche I knowing to be ſpecially apperteyning vnto his mercie, as Plotinus holdeth opinion, and it is confirmed by your wryters, I ſee not whereof thou haſt cauſe to complayne.
Sorowe.
I dye.
Reaſon.
Thy kyng calleth thee: an happie meſſenger. But thus it is, it commeth vnlooked for, and vnluckely, that happeneth vnto men agaynſt their wylles. Conſent thereunto, and then ſhalt thou begyn to perceyue howe wel thou art dealt withall. Then ſhalt thou, reputyng with thy ſelfe thy departure out of this priſon, & the other euyles of this lyfe which thou feareſt, & prophecying
of the commodities whiche death bringeth, after the manner of Socrates ſwan that coulde diuine of heauenly thynges to come, and was therefore conſecrated to Apollo, die ſinging, though not with thy voyce, yet in thy minde. And vnleſſe, whiche God forbid, ye heauie weight of thy ſinnes not clenſed nor forgiuen do ouermuch preſſe thee downe, do thou that in thy minde, which it is read that the emperour Veſpaſian did in bodie, riſe vp when thou art a dying, and thinke it vnmeete to dye lying, neither in this reſpect aſcribe thou leſſe vnto thee then he did to himſelfe, although thou be not a prince as he was. For death reſpecteth no auctorytie, it knoweth not princes from other men, and is a notable meane to make al eſtates of one calling after this life. There was nothing that Veſpaſian might doo, but it is lawful for thee to do the lyke, yea and I truſt thou haſt ſomewhat more of the grace of God then he had if thou do not refuſe it: not for that thou art better then he, but becauſe thou art more happie in reſpect of ye free goodwyl & loue of God, who hath graunted to the litle ones, and reuealed to the vnlearned, thoſe thynges whiche he denied to the mightie, and hyd from the wyſe. Adde moreouer, that it is more profitable and eaſie for thee to aryſe. For his endeuour requyred bodily ſtrength, which ſickneſſe weakeneth and death quite extinguiſheth: but thou haſt neede of noneother then the ſtrength of the minde, which oftentymes encreaſeth the neerer that death is at hand.
Sorow.
I dye.
Reaſon.
Why doeſt thou tremble in ſafetie, and ſtumble in the playne, and ſtay vpon the ſide of a ſheluing downefall? I wyl not here bryng into thy remembrance what the Philoſophers do diſpute in this poynt. For there be many thynges which the troubleſomneſſe of hym that lyeth a dying, and the ſhortneſſe of the tyme wyl not ſuffer to be done, and therefore it ought deepely to be engraffed and rooted in thy mynde whatſoeuer the auncient Philoſophers haue diſputed concernyng this matter. For as they hold opinion, rare proſperitie ſpecially towardes a mans ende, is able to make al remedies agaynſt aduerſitie and hard fortune, voyde & to no purpoſe: but as touchyng thoſe thynges whiche are alleaged agaynſt death, they be alwayes profitable and neceſſarie, whiche no caſual but the natural and inuincible neceſſitie of dying maketh
to ſtande in ful force and effect. Among diuers other, truely Cicero gathereth together many ſounde reaſons and perſwaſions, in the fyrſt dayes diſputation of his Tuſculan queſtions, whereof I made mention a litle before: whiche vnleſſe thou haſt alreadie learned in times paſt, I haue no leaſure now to teach thee, wherein he concludeth, that whether he that dieth, ſeeme to be in proſperitie or aduerſitie: neuertheleſſe, foraſmuche as generally the whole ſtate of mankynde is equally ſubiect to the dartes and inſultes of Fortune, it is to be ſuppoſed, that by death he is not delyuered from good thynges, whiche doubtleſſe he ſhall fynde to be true, whoſoeuer ſhall geue hym ſelfe to the deepe conſideration of worldly affayres. Wherefore, by death he findeth him ſelfe aduauntaged and not hyndered, and thynking continually thereon, when it commeth he maketh account thereof, as of the meſſenger and ſeruant of his delyuerer: and when he is once paſt it, and looketh backe vpon it, he beholdeth, as it were out of a Windowe, how he hath eſcaped the deceites of the worlde, and the priſon of this fleſhe. The very ſame ſenſe doth Cicero followe in his diſputation, that whether the ſoule dye with the body, or be tranſlated to ſome other habitation, that either there is no euyll at al, or very much good in death. Sharply truely among his owne Countreifolke at that time, but among your Philoſophers now adayes, yea and your common people, a thing nothing doubted of: and truly I beleeue, neither vnperſwaded vnto Cicero himſelfe, of whom we haue ſo much ſpoken: which opinion moſt frankly he hath declared in many and ſundry places, although he applied him ſelfe vnto the want of fayth in him, with whom he communed, or the diſtruſtineſſe of the time in which he liued. But in few wordes, thus perſwade thy ſelfe, that thy ſoule is immortal, which not only the whole conſent of your na
•
ion, but alſo the moſt excellent of al the Philoſophers do, & haue defended. Repoſe no truſt in the death of the ſoule, whoſe nature is ſuch, that it cannot die, and thinke not that there remaineth no euyl after death, becauſe there ſhalbe no ſoule to ſuffer it. But foraſmuch as the creatour of the ſoule is gentle, and louing, and merciful, he wyl not deſpiſe the woorke of his owne handes, but wyl be neere vnto them that cal vpon him faithfully. Vnto hym let your prayers, vnto hym let your vowes be
directed: let the vttermoſt of your hope depend vpō him, & let your laſt gaſpe ende, in callyng vpon his name. Depart quickly, feare nothing, dame Nature that is the moſt louing mother of al other mothers, hath made no horrible thing, it is the errour of men, and not the nature of the thing, that ought to be prouided for, that cauſeth death to ſeeme dreadful. If thou harbour any great attempt in thine hart, or go about any excellent & high matter, deſpiſe the baſe and low ſpeeches & deedes of the raſkal multitude, but haue them in admiration, whom to imitate is the perfect path vnto true glorie. Among our Countreymen truly, of ſuch as haue dyed merely and happily, there are innumerable examples. But yf we ſearche rather after ſuch as are of more antiquitie, we ſhal finde many that haue not onely taken their death valiantly, but alſo haſtened it: which deede in Marcus Cato, Marcus Cicero blameth, & Seneca commendeth, as we ſayd erewhile. As for you, ye lyke wel of neither, but woorſt of the ſeconde, for that it is more tollerable to excuſe an errour, then to commende it. But I reiecte them both, becauſe, as for to anſwere when a man is called, & to obey with reuerence, is prayſe woorthie: euen ſo, without licence of the General, to depart from the watch & keeping of the body, is to be counted hygh treaſon, & woorthie to be puniſhed, eyther with cruel baniſhment, or with extreame torment. Of purpoſe I repeate ſome thynges againe and agayne, to the ende they may take the deeper roote: for all theſe matters, as I ſuppoſe, are ſufficiently diſcourſed in our communication going immediatly before.
Sorowe.
I dye.
Reaſon.
Rather thou payeſt tribute of thy fleſhe, and yeeldeſt thy duetie vnto Nature, and anon thou ſhalt be a free man: and therefore, doo that willingly, which of force thou art conſtrayned to doo, and as one that is a verie good exhorter vnto death ſayth: Haue a deſire to doo that, which thou muſt needes doo. There is no counſayle more profitable, yea, there is none other counſayle at all in tyme of neceſſitie: Whatſoeuer a man doeth wyllyngly, is made the more eaſie and tollerable, and yf a wyll be adioyned, it ſurceaſſeth longer to be a neceſſitie.
Sorowe.
Loe, I dye.
Reaſon.
Loe, the Lorde tarrieth for thee. Make haſt vnto hym, doo neyther ſtumble nor ſtay, lay away all dread & ſuſpition, thou art not more deere to thy ſelfe, then thou art to him: and who wyl
diſtruſt when he is called by his freende and louer? Perhappes hereafter thou wylt merueyle, why thou feareſt that, whiche rather thou oughteſt to haue wyſhed for. Now when thou art at libertie, thou ſhalt knowe many thynges, which when thou waſt in priſon, thou couldeſt learne by no ſtudie. Inſomuche, that vnto them that are deſirous to knowe the ſecretes and miſteries of thynges whereunto your eyeſyght can not pearce, by meanes of the mortall vayle wherewith you are compaſſed round about (for ſuch verily is the naturall deſyre of man, but woorking moſt feruently in the ſtudious and learned ſort) there is nothing, as I iudge, better then death, nor that bryngeth a man more compendiouſly vnto his wyſhed purpoſe.
Sorowe.
I dye.
Reaſon.
Nay rather thou ſleepeſt, and beyng wearie of this lyfe, as I ſuppoſe, thou takeſt now thy reſt.
Sorow.
I dye.
Reaſon.
Depart into euerlaſting reſt, for now thou beginneſt to lyue. A good death is the beginning of lyfe.
Of Death before a mans tyme. The .Cxx. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
BUT what ſayeſt thou vnto it, that I dye before my tyme?
Reaſon.
None dyeth before his tyme: but all haue not one tyme limitted them alyke, but rather as the noble Poet writeth: Eche mans day ſtands prefixt: vnto which when he is come, then hath he attayned to the ende. And becauſe men can neither returne agayne, nor ſtay where they are, they muſt needes paſſe away.
Sorow.
I dye before my time.
Reaſon.
That myght be true, yf thou dyddeſt owe a death agaynſt a certayne day, but the good and pure detter oweth it euery day: and therefore let hym looke euery day for his creditours callyng vpon hym, and alwayes haue that in a redineſſe which he oweth. For he is continually in det as long as he hath a mortal bodye, he neede not to borowe, nor to take vpon vſurie, he hath that at home whiche he muſt pay. Yea whyther ſo euer he goeth, he carrieth with hym, and hath that as it were in his hande, wherwith to diſcharge hym ſelfe, whiche when he hath payde, he is then no longer indetted to Nature, nor to any of the heauenly bodyes, as the Poet Virgil ſayeth. Therefore leaue of this complaynte: that can not be required before the
day, which is due euery day: but rather geue thankes, for that for the payment of this det thou needeſt neyther intreating, nor yet to haue great riches of thine owne, nor pawne, nor vſurie, which were the laſt woordes that euer that valiant vnknowen Spartane is reported to haue ſpoken, moſt woorthie in deede to haue been knowen, euen at that time when he was led to execution, wherevnto he went without feare, and couragiouſly, by the loſſe of his lyfe to ſatiſfie Lycurgus lawes.
Sorowe.
I dye before my tyme.
Reaſon.
I vnderſtand not what it is to dye before your time, vnleſſe it be ment, as the common ſpeech is, before it be lyght, or before the day breake, which is a time moſt fit for the exerciſes of the minde & ſoule, which now thou art geuing ouer. But in any other ſignification, who is he that dyeth before his time, when as in deede that is euery mans day wherein he dyeth, and none other?
Sorowe.
I dye before my tyme.
Reaſon.
Neyther before thy tyme, nor after thy tyme, but euen in thy very tyme ſhalt thou dye: vnleſſe thou take that for thy tyme which thou thy ſelfe, not Nature nor Fortune, hath preſcribed. But in trueth, as thou canſt not dye before thy tyme, ſo canſt thou not lyue after it.
Sorowe.
I dye before my tyme.
Reaſon.
Who is he, vnleſſe he were madde, that wyll complayne that he is looſed from his fetters, and diſcharged out of priſon, before his tyme? Truely he had more cauſe to reioyce, in mine opinion, yf this hapned ſooner then his expectation, but certaynely it hapneth not, nor it can not happen ſo, for euery thyng hath it owne tyme. This was the appoynted tyme of thyne ende, there dyd he conſtitute thy boundes, who brought thee into the race of this lyfe: If thou complayne of this ende, thou mayeſt lykewyſe as well complayne of any other.
Sorowe.
I dye ſoone.
Reaſon.
Thou waſt ſoone borne: he dyeth not ſoone, that hath lyued tyll he is olde. And yf thou haddeſt not lyued vntyll thou waſt olde, then remayned there another part of complaint. Howbeit, yf olde age be the laſt portion of a mans lyfe, he muſt needes be fyrſt olde whoſoeuer dyeth. But when I ſpeake of olde age, I meane it as the common people vſually take it, for an heapyng vp of many yeeres together, whiche, not as other ages, hath no ende but death onely. Concernyng the beginnyng
whereof there is great varietie of opinions, but in conſideration of the ſtrength of thoſe that growe olde, and in reſpect of their bodyly health, and the abilitie of their mindes, eaſie enough to be reconciled. To be ſhort, this is the concluſion of all, that eyther thou ſurceaſſe to fynde fault with the haſtineſſe of death, or to miſlyke the troubles of a long lyfe, whiche come by the deferryng of death. But you beyng at contention within your ſelues, are neyther willing to dye, nor to waxe olde, when as ye muſt needes doo both of them, or at the leaſtwyſe one of them.
Sorowe.
I myght haue lyued longer.
Reaſon.
Nay truely, thou couldeſt not: for yf thou myghteſt, verily thou haddeſt lyued longer: but thou wouldeſt ſay, I woulde fayne, or I hoped to haue lyued longer: for the mindes of mortall men are ſo deſirous of lyfe, and ſo readie to hope, that in eyther I eaſily agree with thee. But if thou wylt ſay, I ſhoulde or ought to haue lyued longer, for that perhappes thou ſeeſt ſome that haue lyued longer in deede, as though of duetie thou myghteſt claime longer continuance alſo, I can not yeelde vnto thee. For ſome dye late, and many moe ſoone, but none at all that dye neuer: betweene theſe there is no meane appoynted, but all men are generally ſubiect vnto one lawe, and all owe obeyſaunce to the ſoueraingtie of death, albeit ſome are taken away by one meanes, and ſome by another, and that at diuerſe tymes and ages: thus of one thyng, there are manyfolde meanes, and ſundrie tymes. And therefore, let euery one with indifferencie attende his owne kinde of death and dying day, and not through the greedineſſe or lothſomneſſe of lyfe, doo as the vnſkylfull and ingratefull ſort are woont, complayne and be diſquieted about the lawes of Nature.
Sorowe.
I haue lyued but a ſmal time.
Reaſon.
There was neuer any lyued ſo long, that thought not that he lyued but a ſmall tyme, and truely it is but a ſhort tyme in deede that men lyue heere. And therefore, yf ye be deſirous to lyue long, ſeeke after that lyfe, wherein ye may lyue for euer, which although it be not heere, yet is it purchaſed heere.
Sorowe.
I haue lyued but a ſhort tyme.
Reaſon.
Admit thou haddeſt lyued longer, haddeſt thou then lyued any more then a ſhort tyme? The tearmes of this lyfe are vnequall and vncertaine, but this
one thyng is common to them all, that they be al ſhort. Put caſe a man haue lyued eyghtie yeeres, what hath he more, I pray thee, then he that hath liued but eyght yeeres? Examme thy ſelfe diligently, and looke into thine owne eſtate, and let not the madneſſe of the common multitude deceiue thee: what more, I ſay hath he that hath lyued longer, vnleſſe perhappes ye account cares, and troubles, & paynes, and ſorowes, & weeriſomneſſe for a vantage? Or what more ſhould he haue, yf he lyued eyght hundred yeeres? There is ſomewhat more in deede, I confeſſe, in hope and expectation: but when both tymes are expited, beleeue mee, thou ſhalt fynde nothyng, whereby thou mighteſt make account that thou haſt lyued more happily.
Sorowe.
I dye, when as I thought to haue done good.
Reaſon.
What, dydſt thou thinke to haue done ſomethyng, which thou haſt not done? So perhappes thou wouldeſt alwayes haue thought, haddeſt thou liued neuer ſo long. There be ſome that alwayes thinke to doo well, but they neuer begin. But yf thou haue begun once to doo well, doubt not to goe forward, although death preuent thy woorke before it be brought to a wiſhed ende: which although peraduenture in the blinde iudgement of men, it may ſeeme to be ſome preiudice vnto thee, neuertheleſſe it is to be deſpiſed, for that in the ſyght of the vnfallible ſurueyer of all thynges thou looſeſt nothyng, but thy reward ſhalbe full and whole, as well of thy deedes, as of thy thoughtes.
Sorowe.
In the middes of all my preparation, I dye.
Reaſon.
This fault is not in death, but in them that dye, who then begyn to weaue the moſt ſhort web of their lyfe, when it is a cutting of: which vnleſſe it were ſo, men ſhould not ſo often be preuented by death, not hauing fyrſt accompliſhed the dueties of lyfe, but rather when they had fulfylled and accompliſhed them, woulde then begin to liue, than which truely there were no lyfe more ſweete. Which ſweeteneſſe notwithſtanding, not ſo much the ſhortneſſe of lyfe, as the ſlouthfulneſſe of them that lyue, taketh away from men: who therefore count no lyfe long, becauſe how long ſoeuer the tyme be, they neuer lyue, but are euermore about to lyue. And when they be once come to be olde men, wauering among newe deuices how to lyue, with a ſwift ende they preuent their ſlow beginning.
Sorowe.
I dye, euen whyle I am preparing great
matters.
Reaſon.
This hapned vnto many greatmen, and almoſt to all. Men are deceyued in many thinges, ſpecially in death, which there is none but knoweth that it wyll come, but they hope of the deferring of it, and imagine that to be farre of, which, God knoweth, is hard by them: which both the ſhortneſſe of lyfe, and ſwyftneſſe of tyme, and the power of fortune, and the varietie of humane chaunces wherewith they are beſet round about, needily conſtrayneth to be ſo. And O moſt woonderfull blindneſſe, for that what ye ought to hope of your ſelues, at leaſtwyſe ye learne at length by others. But thus the caſe ſtandeth, your mindes hardly can enter into bitter cogitations: and therefore while euery one promiſeth him ſelfe very long lyfe, and either the age of Neſtor or as Cicero ſayth, the fortune of Metellus. and finally whyle euery one ſuppoſeth him ſelfe to be dame Natures whyte ſonne, whyle they be buſie about the beginning, the end commeth vpon them, and while they are in conſultation of many thinges, death ſetteth vpon them at vnwares, and cutteth them of in the middes of their endeuours.
Sorowe.
I dye in my greene age.
Reaſon.
If there be none other commoditie herein, at leaſtwiſe there is prouiſion made hereby, yt thou ſhalt not languiſh in thine old yeeres. For although that old age be not greeuous, as Lelius ſayth in Cicero, and we alſo haue diſputed before, neuertheleſſe it taketh away that greeneſſe, wherein he ſayth, that Scipio flouriſhed at that time, and thou likewiſe reporteſt now the like of thy ſelfe. Hereafter perhaps many ſhal wiſh for thee, but none ſhal be weery of thee: which thing in a long life although it be gouerned by vertue, is an hard matter to be found.
Sorowe.
I die a young man.
Reaſon.
Thou knoweſt what thou haſt ſuffred alredy in thy life time, but what thou were like to ſuffer hereafter, thou knoweſt not: and beleeue me, whoſo in this ſo variable and rough kingdome of Fortune dyeth firſt, deceiueth his companion.
Sorow.
I am hyndered by death, ſo that I can not ende the thynges that I beganne.
Reaſon.
And tuſtly in deede. For ye be euermore a dooyng the thynges that ye ought to haue doone, and yet there is nothyng finiſhed: this is the cheefeſt thyng that maketh your death greeuous and miſerable vnto you: but yf the thynges that thou beganneſt were ſuche, that without any
negligence in thee thou couldeſt not finiſhe them, it ſuffiſeth thee that thou hadeſt a good wylt hervnto. But if through ſlouthfulnes thou haſt put them of from time to time, let it diſpleaſe thee that thou haſt neglected them. If this peraduenture be the pretended cauſe of thy lamentation, yet in trueth there is nothyng but a vayne lengthening of lyfe, and a deferryng of death wyſhed for thereby, although it wyll not be long, but at length, though late, thou wylt be aſhamed of this vulgare wyſhe. But, O ye mortall men, how greedie ſoeuer ye be of lyfe, hearken vnto mee: I demaunde of you, the exerciſe of Vertue beyng layde aſyde, what is this lyfe other, then a ſlack and vnprofitable tariance, which how long ſo euer it is, can not be other then very ſhort? Wherefore I lyke wel of the ſaying of a certaine good fellowe, of whom S. Auguſtine maketh mention: whom beyng in extremitie of ſichneſſe, when as his freendes comforted hym, ſaying that he ſhould not dye of that diſeaſe, he anſwered: Though I ſhal neuer dye wel. yet becauſe I muſt dye once, why ſhoulde I not dye nowe?
Sorowe.
I dye, my buſineſſe beyng vnperfected.
Reaſon.
If thou cal to minde thoſe that haue been moſt famous for wiſedome, or other notable exploites, the moſt part of them haue dyed, leauyng theyr woorkes vnfiniſhed: vnto verie fewe it hath hapned in this lyfe, to bryng to perfect ende theyr conceyued and vndertaken attemptes. But thou, ſince that after the common manner of men, thou haſt throwen thy ſelfe into theſe difficulties, and that which is paſt can not be called agayne, take holde of this onely way and meane, eftſoones to aduaunce thy ſelfe: not lamentably and vaynely to looke backe vpon many imperfecte thynges, but manly to goe through with that onely which remayneth, that is to ſay, to dye well.
Of a Violent death. The .Cxxj. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
BUT I dye a violent death.
Reaſon.
Euery death is violent vnto thee, yf thou dye vnwillyngly, but yf thou dye wyllyngly, there is no death violent.
Sorowe.
I dye a
violent death.
Reaſon.
If the ſtrength of life be taken away, what ſkylleth it whether it be by an ague, or by the ſwoord? And ſo that thou depart freely, what maketh it matter whether the doores of thy bodily dungeon do open alone, or be broken open?
Sorow.
I dye violently.
Reaſon.
There are many kyndes of deathes, and but one death only, whiche whether it be violent or not, it lyeth in his handes that dyeth: the greater force ouercommeth the leſſer, and conſent quite extinguiſheth it. A wyſe man commeth thus inſtructed, that looke what he cannot withſtande, he conſenteth vnto it. But perhaps thou wylt ſay: doeſt thou counſel me then to conſent vnto hym that kylleth me? Verily, ſome haue not onely conſented vnto them, but alſo geuen them thankes: yea, there was ſuche an one founde, as wyllingly excuſed the ignorance of his murtherers, and at the very giuing vp of the ghoſt, prayed for them. But I am not ſhe that commaund thee to agree vnto the fact of the bloudie butcher or cruel executioner, but only vnto the inuincible neceſſitie of deſtinie, whiche who ſo obeyeth not willyngly, ſhalbe brought thereunto by force.
Sorowe.
I dye by myne enimies hande.
Reaſon.
What, dideſt thou ſuppoſe then that thou couldeſt dye by thy freendes hande, whiche cannot poſſibly happen, but vnwittingly?
Sorowe.
I dye by mine enimies hande.
Reaſon.
So ſhalt thou eſcape thine enimies handes. For whyle he purſueth his wrath, he prouideth for thy libertie, and abateth his owne power, and hath aucthoritie ouer thee no longer.
Sorowe.
I peryſh by the hande of myne enimie.
Reaſon.
It is better to peryſhe vnder an vniuſt enimie, then vnder a iuſt Prince. For in the one the murtherer is culpable, and in the other the murthered is not gyltleſſe.
Sorow.
I am ſlayne by the hand of myne enimie.
Reaſon.
What, doth it touche thee more with what hande, then with what ſwoorde thou art diſpatched? We ſpeake not of the hande, but of the wounde. Howbeit, Pompeius in Lucane ſeemeth to wyſhe that he might be ſlayne by Caeſars owne hande, as a comfort in his death: and alſo in Statius Capaneus comforteth Ipſeus, and in Virgil Aeneas Lauſus. and Camilla Ornithus. for that they wer ſlayne by their handes.
Sorow.
I dye by the ſwoord.
Reaſon.
This fortune is common vnto thee with
the greateſt men, foraſmuch as moſt part of the worthieſt men that eyther haue lyued in moſt bleſſed eſtate in this world, or are nowe moſt holy fainctes in the euerlaſtyng kyngdome, haue dyed by the ſworde: whom al yf I would vndertake to rehearſe, I ſhould play the part rather of a long hiſtorician, then of a ſhort admoniſher.
Sorowe.
I peryſhe by the ſwoord.
Reaſon.
Dyuers diuerſly haue come to their ende: ſome by the halter, ſome by a fal, ſome by the Lyons clawes, ſome by the wilde boares teeth: many haue wanted a ſwoord, beyng deſirous to haue ended their lyues with a weapon.
Sorowe.
I am ſlayne with a ſwoord.
Reaſon.
Howe knoweſt thou whether thou ſhouldeſt eſcape to fal into greater deſtruction, and that this death whiche thou thinkeſt to be moſt miſerable, be the eſchuyng of a greater miſerie? I tolde thee before, howe that Plotinus, who next vnto Plato was the ſeconde glory of Philoſophie, was ſtrooken with a peſtilent leproſie. But I recited not vnto thee, hoowe that Euripides, who immediatly after Homer was the ſeconde light of Greece for poetrie, was torne in peeces by dogges. Lucretius, who among your countrey Poetes was next to the chiefe, of whom Virgil was not aſhamed to borowe ſo muche as he dyd, drinking of a ſlabberſauce confectioned amorous cup, fel into a ſickeneſſe and extreame madneſſe, and in the ende was enforced in diſpatche hymſelfe with a ſwoord for remedie. Herod kyng of Iudea, dyed beyng beſet with an armie of foule and loathſome diſeaſes, ſo that the more compendious and ſhort way of diyng might be by hym enuied at, as doubtleſſe I thinke it was. Hadrian that was Emperour of Rome, beyng ouercome with the payne and tediouſneſſe of his ſickeneſſe, was wylling, if it had been lawful, to ſhorten the extremitie of his greefe, by dynt of ſwoord. It is reported, howe that in our age there was a great perſonage conſumed by woormes, that iſſued out of al the partes of his body, and another in lyke manuer deuoured by myſe. Among ſo many mockeries and infirmities of mans body, who is ſo weake, that yf he might haue his choyce, woulde not rather deſire to dye by the ſwoorde?
Sorowe.
I peryſhe by fire.
Reaſon.
Some that ſuppoſed the ſoule to be of a firie force and
•
atur
•
, haue thought that to be the moſt eaſieſt kinde of death.
Sorowe.
I am conſumed with fire.
Reaſon.
Thy body by this meanes beyng delyuered from the wormes, wil not putrifie.
Sorowe.
I am euer whelmed in water.
Reaſon.
A feaſt for the fiſhes, and for thy ſelfe a place of burial, large, cleere, and notable. And what maketh it matter, whether thou render vp thine earthen carcaſe to the earth, or to the ſea?
Sorow.
I dye in the ſea.
Reaſon.
Not where, but howe a man dyeth, maketh to the purpoſe: euery where a man may dye wel, and euerywhere yll. It is not in the place, but in the minde that maketh the death happie or wretched.
Sorowe.
I peryſhe in the ſea.
Reaſon.
I knowe that many are perſwaded that it is miſerable to be drowned in water, for that the ethereal and burnyng ſpirite ſeemeth to be ouercome by his contrarie: but as I ſayde before, the place maketh nothyng, but it is the minde that maketh all vnto the miſerie. And therefore I lyke very wel of the anſwere of a certayne ſayler I wot not what he was: of whom when on a tyme one demaunded, where his father dyed: he anſweared, vpon the ſea. Then demaundyng farther the lyke of his graundfather, and great graundfather, & great great graundfather: receiuing the ſame anſwere concernyng them al, at length he inferred, and art not thou afearde then, quoth he, to goe to ſea? The ſayler anſweared diſſemblingly: I pray thee, quoth he, tell me alſo where thy father dyed? In his bed, anſweared the other. And where lykewyſe thy graundfather? Euen he, ſayde the ocher, and my great grandfather, and great great grandfather, and al my auncetours dyed in their beddes. The ſayler anſweared: art not thou then afeard, quoth he, to goe into thy bed? Trimly anſweared truely, and ſomewhat more then ſaylerlyke. Concernyng the death therefore, let nature looke to that whiche made men mortal, and as touchyng the kynde of death, the place, and tyme, let fortune vſe her diſcretion.
Sorow.
I dye by poyſon.
Reaſon.
I tolde thee whilere, what notable companions thou haſt herein, whereas I entreated of this matter onely. The ſwoord is a princely death, but moſt of al, poyſon. And to conclude: it is a very ridiculus matter, when thou haſt determined of the death, to be carefull of the inſtrumentes.
Of a ſhameful death. The .cxxii. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
BUt my death is ſhameful.
Reaſon.
It is not the kynde, nor qualitie of the death, but the cauſe of the puniſhment that maketh it ſhameful.
Sorow.
I dye reprochefully.
Reaſon.
No good man dyeth yll, no euyl man, well. It is not the pompe of buryal, nor the attendance and waiting of ſeruantes and officers, nor the ryche garmentes, nor the ſpoyles of the enimies, nor the ſhieldes and ſwoordes turned downe and dragged after, nor the whole family mournyng for their maiſter, nor the howlynges and outcryes of the common people, nor the wyfe drenched in teares, nor the chyldren with duetiful compaſſion reſolued in ſorowe, nor the cheefe mourner, who ſoeuer he be, holdyng downe his head, and walkyng before the corpes attired in blacke, and wofully be dewing his face with ſtoare of bitter teares, nor laſtly the oratour or preacher in commendation of hym that is to be buryed, nor the golden images and pictures wherewith to furnyſhe the ſepulcher, nor the titles and ſtiles of hym that is dead, whiche beyng engrauen in marble ſhal lyue vntyl ſuche tyme, as though it be long firſt, death alſo conſume the ſtones themſelues: but it is vertue and the famous report of hym that hath deſerued well, and needeth not the brute of the common multitude, but whiche ſheweth it ſelfe in it owne maieſtie, and not whiche the headelong and blynde fauour of men, but rather a long continuance in doing wel, and an innocent lyfe hath procured, and alſo the defence of trueth and iuſtice vndertaken euen to the death, and moreouer a valiant minde and notable bouldneſſe euen in the middes and thickeſt of deathes ſharpeſt threatninges, that maketh the death honeſt and honourable. Agaynſt which moſt honourable death, what place remayneth there for reproch? Or howe can he die ſhamefully that dyeth in ſuch manner: yea, though there be prepared agaynſt the body in ſlauiſh ſore whippes & roddes, & tormentes, & halters, & axes, yea, high gallowetrees & wheeles ſet vpon the toppes of poſtes, & cartes with wild horſes to teare the limmes of the body inſunder: adde
moreouer, fire & fagot, & gridirons ſet vpon glowyng coales, and caudrons ſweatyng with hot ſcaldyng oyle, & the ſharpe teeth of cruel wylde beaſtes whetted with hunger: and laſtly hookes and other engins to drag withal the mangled carcaſes about the ſtreetes, or whatſoeuer other villanie or reproche may be deuiſed, or the lyuing or deade body be put vnto: the death, I ſay, may happely ſeeme cruel, but ſhameful it cannot be: but rather many tymes the crueller it is, the more glorious it is. And therefore neyther the outward preparance for execution, nor the thronging of the people, nor the trumpets, nor the terrible lookes of the hangmen and tormentours, nor the wrathful voyce of the Tirant, are any thing to the purpoſe. But turne thee into thy ſelfe, there ſeeke and awake thy ſelfe, and with al the force of thy mynde that remayneth, arme thy ſelfe agaynſt the preſent extremitie: withdrawe thyne eares from the odious noyſe, turne away thine eyes from the pompe and preparation for the execution, and ſecretly gather togeather thy ſpirites and comfort thy ſoule within thee, and examine the thinges themſelues and not their ſhadowes. And yf thou be able with ful ſight to beholde death in the face, I ſuppoſe thou ſhalt feare neyther ſwoord, nor axe, nor halter, nor poyſoned cuppes, nor the hangmen dropping with goare blood: for why, it is a vayne thyng when thou contemneſt thine enimie, to be afeard of his furniture or enſignes.
Sorowe.
I am condemned to a ſhameful death.
Reaſon.
It hapneth manytymes that the accuſer is infamous, and the wytneſſes diſhoneſt, and the iudge obſcure, and the partie accuſed very noble: and often the death is commonly accounted reprochful, and he that dyeth, honourable and glorious. And to ſpeake nothyng of any other, for that there haue been to many ſuche alreadie and to much vnwoorthy of that ende, what death was there euer more ſhameful then the death of the croſſe? Vpon whiche the moſt excellent and glorious lyght both of heauen and earth was hanged, to the ende that thenceforth no ſtate or condition of men whatſoeuer, ſhoulde iudge it to be reprocheful. And foraſmuche as there is nothyng higher then the higheſt, in this example onely I make an ende. Vertue alone is able to make any kinde of death honeſt, and there is no death that can blemiſhe vertue.
Of a ſuddayne death. The .cxxiii. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
BVt I dye to ſuddeynly.
Reaſon.
It is not long ſince, yf I forget not my ſelfe, that thou ſayeſt thou waſt olde: I meruayle then howe there can be any death ſuddayne to an olde man, who vnleſſe he doate or be mad, hath death euermore before his eyes. For, ſince there is this wholſome counſel geuen to al ages, that they perſwade themſelues that euery day is the laſt that they ſhall lyue, it is moſt ſpecially conuenient for olde age to thynke euery houre the laſt of their lyfe. And not only not to hearken vnto that which is wrytten by Cicero: There is no man ſo olde, that thinketh not to lyue one yeere longer:
but not ſo muche vnto that which Seneca ſayeth, one day longer.
Sorow.
I dye ſuddaynly.
Reaſon.
In this caſe what ſhal I anſwere thee other, then repeate that, which that moſt mightie perſonage, no leſſe in wyt then great in fortune, anſweared, ſcarſe one whole day, when he diſputed thereof, before his death, as prophecying of the trueth thereof by reaſon of the neereneſſe of the experience. Who pronounced, that a ſuddayne and vnprouided death was moſt to be wyſhed. Whiche iudgement ſeemeth to be diſſonant from that religion whiche teacheth to pray with bowed knees vnto GOD euery day, to be delyuered from this kynde of death. Neyther do I lyke of this opinion, where there is otherwyſe choyſe and libertie: but thou muſt in other manner perſwade thyſelfe, for I ſay not that it is ſuch a death, as thou oughteſt to wyſhe for, but ſuche an one as thou mayeſt wel endure. For this is a cleare caſe, that vnto a wyſe man and one that foreſeeth a far of al thynges that are lyke to enſue, there can nothyng happen vnlooked for. Whereupon it foloweth, that death cannot come vnto hym vnprouided for, whoſe lyfe was alwayes prouident: for how ſhould he be negligent in the greateſt thinges, that was wount to demurre in ſmall, yea, the leaſt thynges? And in al worldly thynges, what canſt thou ſhewe me that is greater then death, or comparable vnto it?
Sorowe.
I dye moſt ſpeedily.
Reaſon.
So that the death be not vnthought
vpon, the ſpeedier, the eaſier it is: and yf there be any payne in it, it is very ſhort, and the ſpeedineſſe thereof preuenteth the feelyng of it, and ſo that is taken away from death, whiche is moſt greeuous in death, to wyt, the feare of death.
Of one that is ſicke out of his owne countrey. The .cxxiiii. Dialogue.
SOROW.
I Am ſicke in a ſtrainge countrey.
Reaſon.
What ſkylleth it whoſe countrey it be, the ſickeneſſe thou art ſure is thine owne.
Sorowe.
Thou mockeſt me, I am ſicke out of mine owne countrey.
Reaſon.
He that is out of his owne countrey, is ſurely in ſome other: for none can be ſicke or whole out of al countreyes.
Sorow.
Thou ſeekeſt delayes in wordes, but I am ſicke out of my countrey.
Reaſon.
In this miſerie thou gaineſt this one commoditie, that thou haſt none to trouble thee, nor to lye vpon thy bed, not thine importunate wyfe, nor thy ſonne, who woulde both be careful for them ſelues, and careleſſe of thee. Howe often thinkeſt thou, hath the wyfe to her huſband, and the ſonne to the father, and one brother to another, when they haue lien in extremitie of death throwne a pillowe ouer their mouthes, and holpen to ſet them packyng, whiche a ſtranger would not haue done, nor haue ſuffered to be done by others? Many tymes there is moſt loue where it is leſſe looked for: and there none that are about thee wylbe glad of thy ſickeneſſe, or wyſhe for thy death. And ſhall I tel thee the cauſe why? There is none there that looketh for thine inheritance: none commit any wickedneſſe, but they are moued thereunto by hope or deſire, which quietneſſe wherein thou art nowe, would not haue hapned vnto thee in thine owne countrey. For many vnder the colour of goodwyl woulde flocke about thee, and gape after thy burial: whiche conceit, vnleſſe I be much deceiued, is a ſeconde ſickeneſſe to him that is ſicke alreadie, when he ſhal perceiue himſelfe beſet rounde about, at the one ſide with woolfes, and at the other with rauens
whiche in their mindes come to pray on the carcaſe.
Sorowe.
I am ſicke out of my countrey.
Reaſon.
Howe knoweſt thou that? Perhaps thou returneſt nowe into thy countrey: for the readieſt and ſhorteſt way for a man to returne into his countrey, is to dye.
Sorowe.
I am ſicke out of my countrey.
Reaſon.
O the needeleſſe alwayes and vayne cares of men, and fond complayntes: as though out of a mans owne countrey his ague were fiercer, or his gout more intollerable? Al this whiche ſeemeth euyl, conſiſteth in your owne wyl, and lyeth in your owne power, lyke as other plagues and miſcheefes do, whatſoeuer a falſe opinion hath engendred in your mindes.
Of one that dyeth out of his owne cuntrey. The .cxxv. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Dye out of my natiue countrey.
Reaſon.
Doth this happen vnto thee, beyng a traueiler, or a baniſhed man? For whether thou madeſt thine aboade in this countrey for ſtudie ſake, or for religion, thou haſt cauſe to reioyce that death hath taken thee in an honeſt deede, or in a iuſt condemnation, and thou oughteſt to take it not onely valiantly, but alſo willingly. For the wyckedneſſe of an vnryghteous perſon is by no meanes better purged, then by wyllyng and patient ſuffryng of puniſhment. But yf it be long of the iniurie of ſome mightie enimie, neuertheleſſe thou muſt not be ſorie for it: and as for baniſhment, I ſuppoſe, we haue diſputed ſufficiently of it alreadie.
Sorowe.
I dye out of my countrey.
Reaſon.
This I ſayd euen nowe, is to returne into thy cuntrey, there is no ſtreighter path, nor readier way. Haſt thou forgotten hudemus of Cyprus that was familiar with Ariſtotle, of whom Ariſtotle hymſelfe and alſo Cicero wryteth? Who, on a tyme beyng very ſicke in Theſſalia, dreamed that he ſhould recouer very ſhortly, and after fiue yeeres expired, returne into his countrey, & that the Tyrant of the ſame citie, where at that tyme he ſoiourned, whoſe name was Alexander Phaereus, ſhoulde dye ſhortly. But when after a fewe
dayes, beyng reſtored vnto his deſpaired health, and the Tyrant ſlayne by his owne kinſfolke, thinking his dreame to be true in al poyntes, at the tyme limitted he looked alſo to returne into his Countrey, at the ende of the fyfth yeere he was ſlayne in fyght at Syracuſe: and this ſayd the Interpretours of dreames, was the meanes of the returnyng into his Countrey, that there myght be no part of the dreame falſe. What myne opinion is concernyng dreames, I haue declared elſewhere alreadie, and nowe I haue vttered what came into my mynde of this returnyng into a mans Countrey.
Sorowe.
I am compelled to dye out of my Countrey.
Reaſon.
When I entreated of exile, then ſayd I, which nowe I repeate agayne, that eyther none or all dye out of theyr Countrey. The learned holde opinion, that euery part of the worlde is a mans Countrey, ſpecially to hym that hath a valiant minde, whom any priuate affection hath not tyed to the liking of this place or that: and otherſome call that a mans Countrey where he is wel, and lyueth in good caſe. And contrariwyſe, ſome ſay, that a man hath heere no ſpeciall Countrey at all. The fyrſt is a common doctrine, but this laſt a poynt of hygher Philoſophie.
Sorowe.
I dye farre from my Countrey in which I was borne.
Reaſon.
But that is more truely thy Countrey, where thou dyeſt. The ſame ſhall poſſeſſe thee longer, and not ſuffer thee to wander abroade, but keepe thee within it for a perpetuall inhabitaunt for euer. Learne to lyke of this Countrey, that wyll enfranchize thee into it ſelfe, whereſoeuer otherwyſe thou were borne.
Sorowe.
I muſt dye, and be buried farre out of myne owne Countrey.
Reaſon.
Thoſe heauenly and diuine men lykewyſe, whom one age, and the ſelfe ſame middle part of the worlde brought foorth, are diſperſed ouer all partes of the worlde, as well in theyr deathes as burialles. Epheſus keepeth one, and Syria another, and Perſis another, and Armenia another, and Aethiopia another, and India another, and Achaia another, and Rome otherſome, and the fartheſt part of Spayne another: neuertheleſſe it is reported, that ſome of them after theyr death, were carried away and tranſlated from the places where they dyed, vnto certayne Cities of Italy: I ſpeake of the earthly part of them, but as for theyr
ſpirituall part, doubtleſſe it is long ſince that they poſſeſſed the kyngdome of heauen.
Sorowe.
I muſt needes dye out of my Countrey.
Reaſon.
What ſhall I ſpeake of men of a meaner degree? One that was remooued fyrſt from Stridon, Bethleem and afterwarde Rome receyued, Fraunce another from Pannonia, and Parris another from Athens, and Rome another from Greece and Spayne, and Millaine another from Rome lyuing, and the ſame when he was dead Sardinia from Africa, and ſhortly after Ticinum from Sardinia: two moſt bryght ſhining ſtreames of the Eaſt, march in merites, and ioyned in minde, and neere in bodye. Who they be that I ſpeake of thou knoweſt, and therefore in makyng haſt, I ouerpaſſe many thynges. But that thou mayeſt not want alſo an example of the thyrde ſorte: Cyprus receyued one from the land of Paleſtine, and Campania another from Nurſia: Spaine this one, and Italie that other, and Bononie one, and Padua another.
Sorowe.
I vnderſtande well all that euer thon meaneſt, notwithſtandyng vnwillingly doo I dye farre from my Countrey.
Reaſon.
And truely I vnderſtande the very cauſe hereof: to wit, for that the moſt ſacred ſpirites and mindes which alwayes haue their affections fixed in heauen, haue no care at all of their earthly Countrey, which care thou haſt not yet layd aſide, but truely beleeue mee, yf thou hope after heauen, thou muſt needes lay it aſyde indeede. Neuertheleſſe, I wyll entreate of others that were louers of vertue, and mindfull of heauen, and yet not through their loue of heauen, altogether forgetful of the earth. The boanes of Pythagoras of Samos, Metapontus dyd couer. Cicero, whom Arpine brought foorth, and Rome dyd nouryſh, the bay of Caieta ſawe dead. Plinie, whom the riuer Atheſis waſhed when he was an infant, the aſhes of the mount Veſeuus couered when he was olde. Mantua brought Virgil into the worlde, Brunduſium, or as other ſome write Tarentum plucked hym away, and now Naples holdeth hym. Sulmo framed the Poet Ouid, but his exile in Pontus diſolued him. Carthage, as it is reported, brought forth Terence the Comike Poet, but Rome taught him, and Arcadia buried him. Apulia ſent foorth Horace the Poet, and Calabria Ennius, and the Prouince of Narbona
Statius, and Vaſconia Auſonius, & Corduba the three Annei, or as ſome ſay, foure, to wit, the two Senecaes, and Gallio, and the Poet Lucan. And al theſe, & ouer & beſides Plautus of Arpine, and Lucillus of Arunca, and Pacuuius of Brunduſium, & Iuuenal of Aquinum, and Propertius of Vmbria, & Valerius of Antium, and Catullus of Verona, and Varrus of Cremona, and Gallus of Forli, and Actius of Piſaurum, & Caſſius of Parma, & Claudianus of Florence, & Perſius of Volaterrae, & a thouſand moe hath Rome receiued, and for the moſt part buried, only Titus Liuius of Padua, with muche adoo was reſtored vnto his Countrey to be enterred: and ſo contrariwiſe, Rome hath bread many that haue dyed, and ben buried in other places. The whole world is in manner of a narrow houſe foureſquare, wherein men paſſe from one extremitie to another, and in the one is life, and in the other death. Men of valiant courage eſteeme of it for none other cauſe, then for the varietie of the vſe thereof, as it were to goe out of a cold bath into a ſtone, or to chaing out of a winter chamber into a ſummer lodging. This chaing and varietie, namely, to be borne in one place, and buried in another, is common among al men, ſpecially the more noble fort.
Sorowe.
I knowe it is ſo, yet I dye ſorowfully out of myne owne Countrey.
Reaſon.
Thou ſhouldeſt dye no more merily in that Countrey, which thou calleſt thyne: but ye geue your ſelues ouer to teares, and ſeeke cauſes to lament and be ſorie, as yf ye tooke pleaſure in them. But yf the examples of holy, learned, and diſcrete pouertie can not diſcharge thy minde hereof, which is infected with the errours of the vulgare multitude, I wyll alleage them that haue been more fortunate, in proouing that this which troubleth thee hath hapned to the moſt famous Captaynes, Dukes, Kynges, and Emperours, ſo that I wyll ſee whether thou wylt refuſe that fortune which may befal to a man.
Sorowe.
Whom thou wylt ſpeake of and alleage, I knowe well enough: but what neede many woordes? I am ſorie to dye out of my Countrey, & the place encreaſeth the greefe of my death.
Reaſon.
I perceiue thou refuſeſt to be cured, yet wyll I proceede, but with how good effect, that looke thou vnto: as for me, it ſhall ſuffice to vtter the trueth, and geue thee faythfull warnyng. Alexander
was borne at Pella, ſlayne at Babylon, and his aſhes buried at Alexandria, a Citie called after the name of the founder. The other Alexander was brought vp in the Princes Palace of Epirus, and drowned in the Riuer Lucanus. Kyng Cyrus was borne in his Kyngdome of Perſis, and ſlayine and mangled in Scythia. Rome, and the whole Romane Empire had in admiracion Marcus Craſſus, and Pompeius the great: which as it was able to beare the greatneſſe of them whyle they lyued: ſo yf Fortune had ſo ſuffered, it had been ſufficient to haue receyued theyr aſhes: but the one was couered with earth in Aſſyria beyonde Euphrates, the other ouerwhelmed in the Channell of the Aegyptian ſtreame. Vnto the latter Cato, the Citie of Rome gaue both begynnyng and name, but Vtica brought both ende and ſurname. The Cornelii Scipioes, Rome procreated, moſt noble and profitable members of the Commonwealth, by whom it had been often ſaued and adorned: whom notwithſtanding their deſtinies ſo diſperſed, that thoſe two which are called the great, were entombed both in Spaniſh moulde, and the elder Africane at Linternum, and Naſica at Pergamus, and Lentulus within Scicil, dwelling al in ſeuerall and diſioyned graues. Of all this number, only Aſiaticus and Africanus the younger lye buried at Rome, who perhaps had lyen better in any baniſhment whatſoeuer: for the fyrſt was punyſhed by impriſonment, the other by death. And thus many tymes it happeneth, that a man may lyue better, and dye better, in any other place, then in his owne Countrey, and lye nowhere harder then at home. The three Deci, although the common report make mention but of twayne, dyed valiantly out of theyr owne Countrey, the Father fyghting with the Latines, the Sonne with the Hetrurians and the Nephew, as Cicero addeth, with Pyrrhus; To what purpoſe ſhoulde I nowe rehearſe in order as they come to my minde, woorthie Captaynes and Princes, whiche were all borne at Rome, and dyed elſewhere? Africa behelde Attilius Regulus howe muche the more cruelly, ſo muche the more gloriouſly dying, both for the preſeruyng of his Countrey, and alſo of his fayth and credite with his enimie: and in the next war followyng, Cortona ſawe Caius Flaminius, and Cumae Paulus
Aemilius, and Venuſia, Claudius Marcellus, and Lucania, Tiberius Gracchus lying dead: it was the fortune of none of theſe to dye at Rome. Two noble Gentlemen of great hope and expectation in the Romane Commonwealth, were cut of in the very floure of their youth, Druſus and Marcellinus: who although they returned both into their Countrey, yet dyed they both farre from their Countrey, Druſus in Germanie, and Marcellinus in Baion. And tell me nowe, are thou prouder then Tarquinius, or myghtier then Sylla? Yet the fyrſt of theſe dyed a banniſhed man at Cumae, the other beyng a great Lorde, gaue vp the ghoſt at Puteoli. What ſhall I ſpeake of men of meaner degree? Auguſtus Caeſar, who was called Father of his Countrey, dyed out of his Countrey at Nola in Campania. Tyberius, that was vnlyke in Manners, but equall in Empire, deceaſſed at Miſenum in Campania. Veſpaſian and Titus, two moſt excellent Princes, as it well became the father and the ſonne, dyed in one Village, yet without of the Citie of Rome▪
though not farre. But
•
raian, being borne in the Weſt part of the worlde, dyed in the Eaſt. Septimus Seuerus came but of a baſe parentage in Africa, and had a proude Empire at Rome▪
and was buried at Yorke in Englande. Theodoſius that was borne in Spayne, and dyed at Millain, Conſtantinople receyued: whiche Citie alſo had in it before, the founder thereof beyng of the ſame name, but borne in another place. What ſhall I neede to recite others? Lycurgus, who fledde from Sparta, Creta receyued, which long before had ſeene Kyng Saturne banniſhed out of his Kyngdome, and flying from his ſonne, and hearde howe he hyd hym ſelfe in the confines of Italie, and was there buried. A poore graue of Bithynia, couereth Hannibal the lyght of all Africa. Theſeus, Themiſtocles, and Solon, the three Diamondes of all Athens, were ſo ſcattered by Fortune, that the fyrſt was buried in Syria, the ſeconde in Perſis, and the thyrde in Cyprus, in farre vnfitte Graues for ſo woorthie Carcaſſes. The day woulde ſooner fayle mee then matter, yf I ſhoulde ſtande to reporte euery example. But my purpoſe was not to weerie thee with Hiſtories, but onely to inſtructe thee.
Sorowe.
I vnderſtande thy meanyng: and
I confeſſe, that all theſe, and as many moe as thou canſt recken, dyed out of theyr Countreyes in deede: but I denie that it was with their wylles, but rather I ſuppoſe to theyr great greefe.
Reaſon.
Whereby ſpeakeſt thou this, but onely for that all fooles iudge other lyke them ſelues, and thynke that to be impoſſible for others to doo, which they them ſelues can not attayne to. And perhappes thou haſt hearkened to the olde prouerbe: It is good to lyue abrode in ſtrange Countries, but yll to dye there: when as in deede they are both good, ſo that they be orderly doone, with patient forbearyng, and comlineſſe: but both euyl, yf they be yll handled, lamentably, and without diſcretion. I wyll tell thee that which thou wylt marueyll at, and is quite repugnant to the olde prouerbe: If there be any iuſt occaſion to complayne of the cauſe, I had rather impute the ſame to the lyuyng, whom perhaps in ſome reſpect it may concerne, then hym that lyeth a dying, who hath now no regarde of any place, ſeeyng that he is vpon departyng from all places.
Sorowe.
Somewhat thou mooueſt my minde, neuertheleſſe I am yet deſirous to dye in my Countrey.
Reaſon.
The wyll of man, vnleſſe it be bridled by vertue and wyſedome, of it ſelfe is wylde and vnreclaymed. And yf thou conſider of the matter deepely, thou wylt confeſſe, that none of all this appertayneth vnto thee, ſeeyng that thou thy ſelfe canſt remayne heere no longer, nor thy boanes retayne any ſenſe after thy deceaſſe to diſcerne where thou myghteſt haue lyen harder or ſofter, and alſo vnto that place whyther thou departeſt, which had been the ſhorter or eaſier way. When Anaxagoras lay a dying in a farre forraine Countrey, and his freendes demaunded of hym whether after his death he woulde be carried home into his owne natiue ſoyle, he anſweared very finely, ſaying, that it ſhoulde not neede: and he added the cauſe why: for that the way to Heauen is of lyke diſtaunce from all places. Whiche anſweare ſerueth as well for them that goe downe to Hell, as for thoſe that goe vp to Heauen.
Sorowe.
I woulde GOD I myght dye at home.
Reaſon.
If thou were there, perhappes thou wouldeſt wyſhe thy ſelfe in another place: perſwade thy ſelfe ſo. Learne to doo that
dying, whiche thou oughteſt to haue doone lyuyng. An hard matter it is for you, O ye mortall men, to beare your ſelues vpryghtly, ye are ſo dayntie and faultfyndyng, euermore makyng none account of that whiche ye haue, and alwayes iudging beſt of that whiche ye want.
Sorowe.
O, that I myght dye at home?
Reaſon.
Peraduenture thou ſhouldeſt ſee many thynges there, that woulde make thy death more greeuous vnto thee: for whiche cauſe thynke that thou art remooued, to the intent that all other cares beyng ſet apart, thou myghteſt onely thynke vpon GOD, and thyne owne ſoule.
Of one that dyeth in Sinne. The .Cxxvj. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Oye in ſinne.
Reaſon.
This is neyther Natures, nor Fortunes, but thyne owne fault.
Sorowe.
I dye in ſinne.
Reaſon.
Fyrſt, who enforced thee to commit ſinne? And next, who forbydde thee to bewayle it when it was committed? And laſt of all, who letteth thee from repentyng, though it be late fyrſt? For vnto the laſt gaſpe the ſpirite and minde is free.
Sorowe.
Whyles I am dying, I carrie my ſinnes with mee.
Reaſon.
Beware thou doo not ſo: lay downe that venemous and deadly carriage, whyle thou haſt tyme, and there is one that wyll take it away and blotte it out, accordyng as it is written, and wyll caſt it behynde his backe into the bottome of the Sea, and wyll abandon it as farre from thee, as the Eaſt is diſtant from the Weſt. If thou neglect this houre, when it is once paſt it wyll neuer returne agayne. Whith qualitie, although it be common to all houres, that alwayes they paſſe away and neuer returne, yet many tymes that which hath been omitted in one houre, may be perhappes recouered in another: but yet the neglectyng of the laſt houre of a mans lyfe
is irrecurable. And therefore, as ſome report it to be found in the ſecret diſputations of the ſoule, the errours of this lyfe, are as it were ſofte falles vpon the playne grounde, after which, a man may ſoone ryſe vp agayne: but the ſinne vnto death, is compared vnto a greeuous fall from ſome hygh and craggie place, after which, it is not poſſible to aryſe any more, the hurt therein taken is ſo great, that it can not be ſalued. Wherefore, helpe thy ſelfe nowe whyle thou mayeſt, and call to remembraunce, not onely what your owne writers ſay, but alſo what Cicero counſelleth, who in his woorke de Diuinatione, of Diuination, diſputing of thoſe that are dying: Doo thou cheefely, quod he, ſtudie to winne commendation, and thynke that they which haue lyued otherwyſe then they ought, doo moſt bitterly repent them of their ſinnes. What, I pray thee, coulde be vttered by any man more religiouſly or profitably, yf ſo be that be followed which is commaunded, and thou repent thee, though it be late fyrſt? A difficult and dangerous matter it is truely to deferre the tyme, which hath deceyued very many, who wittingly and willingly put of the clenſing of their ſoules, which can not be doone too ſpeedily, from day to day, and alwayes adiourne it vnto their latter tyme, in which beyng ſuddenly taken ſhort, and amazed with the neereneſſe of death, they leaue all vndoone whatſoeuer they determined. Concernyng which matter, foraſmuche as your writers haue ſayde very muche, it ſhall not be impertinent to heare what the Poet Virgil ſayeth, who is an externall witneſſe, with what woordes he reprooueth this ſlouthfulneſſe and negligence in repentance, which to come foorth of his mouth is woonderfull, whereas among the infernal Spirites he bryngeth in hym to be a Iudge, whoſe vpryghtneſſe and equitie is verie famous. Who, as he ſayeth, Examineth the Ghoſtes, and puniſheth them, and conſtrayneth them to confeſſe their deceiptes: and alſo if there be any ſuch, that whyle they lyued vpon the earth, reioyced in vaine thefte, & differred to repent them thereof vntil they dyed, which was too late. And albeit this be ſo dangerous as I haue declared, notwithſtanding there is nothing more perilous then Deſpaire, neither hath ye enimie of your ſaluation founde out any thing more hurtfull to your
good eſtate. For al other miſcheefes are aſſwaged by their peculiar remedies, but of al eulles this is the greateſt and laſt of all, whiche yf it take holde of the ſoule when it is departyng, then is there no place left for recouerie. The ſame therefore alwayes, but ſpecially in the ende, ought moſt earneſtly be reſiſted, for that then it vſeth to vrge moſt ſharpely. And nowe there is no tyme left for thee, wherein by ſtaggeryng or trifling thou reiect wholeſome counſel concernyng thy ſaluation. From this let no feare dryue thee, nor the ſhame and ſorowe of differringe withholde thee: it is better to awake late at nyght, then not at al, and what ſoeuer is ill differed, is woorſe omitted.
Sorowe.
I dye without al hope.
Reaſon.
Thou ſayeſt yll: rather plucke vp hope agayne, and lay it to thy hart, and embrace it, coll it, and keepe it with the armes of thy ſoule.
Sorowe.
My ſinne is exceedyng great.
Reaſon.
N
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mans ſinne can be ſo great, but Gods mercie is muche greater.
Sorow.
Who is able to forgeue ſo many ſinnes?
Reaſon.
Who thinkeſt thou, but he onely, at whom his enimies woonderyng, contended among themſelues and demaunded: Who is this that forgeueth ſinnes alſo?
Sorow.
Who is able to merite forgeueneſſe of ſo great ſinnes?
Reaſon.
None truely can deſerue, nor neuer deſerued: neuertheleſſe it hath freely been geuen to many, and ſhalbe geuen hereafter, ſo that it be craued by fayth and reuerence. There were ſome that went about to perſwade Conſtantinus the Emperour, that there was no forgiueneſſe of great ſinnes. But that this doctrine is falſe, it appeareth not onely by your wryters, among whom the remiſſion of ſinnes by baptiſme and repentance is wel knowen. but alſo the lyke report, though falſe, was amonge the Pagans: towardes the curyng of whoſe diſeaſes that medicine was then without effect, for that the heauenly Phiſition was not yet come. And therefore, vnleſſe the ſoule coulde haue been clenſed from ſinne, and the iniquitie thereof waſhed away, that ſame moſt greeuous ſinner at the firſt, and afterward moſt gooly man, had prayed ful oft in vayne.
Sorow.
The remembrance of my ſinne, cutteth of my hope.
Reaſon.
The remembrance of ſinne ought to bryng ſorowe and repentance into the mynde, but not take away hope. But ye are to muche in extremities
on al ſides: In ſinne burnyng, after ſinne key colde: In ſinning ye reioyce, and in remembryng ſinne ye deſpayre. Many euerywhere offend in hope of pardon, and on the otherſide, not fewe when they haue ſinned deſpayre of forgiueneſſe, and both fortes are deceiued. And I woulde geue them counſel, for the firſt ſort at the begynnyng to abandon that hurtful hope, and for the ſecond to reteine fruitefull aſſuredneſſe.
Sorowe.
Death dryueth me foorth headlong that am laden with ſinnes: what ſhal I do?
Reaſon.
What other then that whiche thou ſhouldeſt haue done ere this? That is to ſay, with ſpeede laye downe thine vnhappie burden, whereof beyng lyghtened thou ſhalt goe playnely, and not runne headlong. Thou ſhalt goe, I ſay, not ſtouping nor ſtumblyng, but with vpryght and ſteadie ſteppes, and a good hope. Goe to then, deferre no longer tyme, nor diſtruſt not: for there is one yf thou do hartily entreathym, that wyl take it from thy ſhoulders, and hath taken away heauier then this, vnto whom there is nothyng heauie nor difficult. And although that long delay do want excuſe, yet late amendement deſerueth commendation, for that it is better to amend late then neuer. Be of good cheare, and plucke vp thy hart: a fewe godly and feruent teares haue called many backe euen from hel gates. He ſtandeth freendly at thy beddes heade, who not onely anſweared the infected that he would clenſe hym, but alſo commaunded hym that had been buried foure dayes, to ryſe out of his graue. And nowe lykewyſe he attendeth to ſee, yf thou wylt be cleered and rayſed vp agayne, beyng as louing and mercyfull at this preſent as he was then, and alſo as myghtie as euer he was. It lyeth yet in thy power in what ſtate thou wylt dye, thou mayeſt yet depart without ſinne, not that thou haddeſt none, but that henceforward it ſhal not be imputed vnto thee. And although that Plinius the younger holde opinion, that ouer ſinnes that are paſt, God hath no power at all, but onely to make them be forgotten: neuertheleſſe he hath alſo the myght to take them a way, whiche that moſt curious man dyd not perceyue. And therefore, although that whiche is done cannot be vndone agayne, neuertheleſſe the ſinne that ſprang by the doyng may be in ſuche ſort taken away, that it remayne no longer, ſo that it come
to paſſe accordyng as it is wrytten: Sinne ſhalbe ſought for. and not be founde. Not that the power of man is ſuche, that he can loſe hymſelfe from the bandes of ſinne, but in that vnto the godly, and wel diſpoſed wyl of man, and his coutrite heart, the preſent aſiſtance of God is neuer wanting.
Of one dying, that is careful what ſhalbecome of his inheritance and children. The .Cxxvii. Dialogue.
FEARE.
WHat ſhal I hope of mine inheritance, and chyldren?
Reaſon.
Thyne inheritance ſhal haue owners, and thy chyldren their fortune.
Feare.
What ſhal become of my great ryches?
Reaſon.
Thynke not that thine heire wyl thynke them to great. There were neuer any ryches ſo great, but they ſeemed to lytle in ſome reſpect. But concernyng theſe let her looke vnto them, who tumbleth and toſſeth your goodes whiche ye eſteeme ſo deerly, hyther and thyther moſt vncertaynely.
Feare.
What wyl my chyldren doo?
Reaſon.
When their earthly father hath forſaken them, the heauenly father wil receyue then into his protection, who wyl not leaue them as thou doeſt, nor make them Orphanes and fatherleſſe chyldren. But he wyl nouryſhe, and inſtruct them from their youth ſo that they ſhewe themſelues willing to learne, and not forſake them vnto their olde yeeres and crooked age, no not to their death and graue. God is the hope vnto man when he is borne, and not his father, though he were a king. It is not good buylding vpon the ſand, but vpon the rocke: for al hope in man is ſhort and tranſitorie. And therefore thy children being deceiued by the hope which they repoſed in thee, wil put their truſt in God only, & ſing with the Prophet Dauid: My father & my mother haue forſaken me, but the Lord hath taken me vp.
The ſeedes & ſparkes of good nature & vertue that haue appeared in many children, haue been quite extinguiſhed by their parentes to muche cockling: lyke as on the contrary ſide, loſſe of parentes, and pouertie, haue oftentimes driuen away the childrens deintineſſe.
Feare.
What wyl become of my ryches?
Reaſon.
They wyl returne from whence they came, (that is to ſay,) vnto fortunes handes: and from thence they ſhalbe diſperſed from one to another, and neuer tarrie long with any. For they are of a flitting nature, and cannot abyde in one place: And that not without a myſterie. For ſome haue thought, that mony cannot tarrie in a place becauſe of the roundenſſe & the rollyng forme of the coyne, whiche ſome merily haue ſayd, to be a token of the ſlipperineſſe thereof, whiche partly I cannot deny. But I am of opinion, that if it were three or foure ſquare, it woulde tunne away as faſt, I meane concernyng the continuall paſſing of ryches, whoſe nature is alwayes to ſlyp and flye away, to hate coffers that haue but one locke, to be delited with ſundry and often poſſeſſours, eyther to the intent to auoyd ruſt, or els by their currantneſſe and runnyng about to circumuent very many, or laſtly to contend with their owners in vnconſtancie. Seeyng therefore tha: thou lyeſt nowe a dying, caſt of that care whiche vnto the lyuing is ſuperfluous. But rather yf thou dye ryche, acknowledge howe that there is ſeldome any ruſt founde in fortune, and nowe that thou art departyng out of this lyfe, flye ryches whiche are not profitable for thee, nor neceſſarie for any. But yf thou be poore, depart foorth vpon thy iourney lyght & without burden: whether thy ryches be very great, or indifferent, or very ſmall, or none at al, heretofore they belonged very litle vnto thee, but hencefoorth they ſhall apperteine vnto thee nothyng at al, but this much onely, that thou mayeſt perceyue, that he that was poorer then thou, lyued in more quietneſſe then thou, ſeeing that theſe troubleſome and paynefull helpes of lyfe, or whether thou liſt rather to terme them tormentes, doo make thy death more carefull.
Feare.
What ſhal become of my children?
Reaſon.
Thy name ſhall lyue in them, if they be good, and if that be any comfort in death, thou ſhalt not ſeeme wholy to be dead. For in their countenances, & actions, & geſture thy freendes wyl thinke and alſo reioyce that thou art reſtoared vnto them. But if they be euyl, thou haſt cauſe willingly to forſake them, & thoſe whom thou thyſelfe couldeſt not correct nor tame, thou ſhalt deliuer them ouer vnto the worlde and fortune, to be corrected
and tamed. And do not thou nowe dying lament for them, that wyl nothyng at al be grieued at thy death, and perhaps are ſorie that thou diedſt not ſooner.
Sorowe.
But what ſhal become of my goodes?
Reaſon.
Feareſt thou, that when thou haſt left them, they ſhal fynde no owner? They are looked for, they are wyſhed for, they are valewed alreadie: neyther oughteſt thou to be afeard ſo muche for the neglecting of them, as for the ſtriuing for them. But this is one thyng, they ſhal nowe ſurceaſſe to be thy goodes any longer, but whoſe they ſhalbe next, why doeſt thou looke vpon thy chyldren? It cannot poſſibly be knowen, nor it muſt not: it ſuffiſeth thee to knowe that they were once thine, yf euer they were thyne indeede, and not rather hers, that is the lady and miſtreſſe of goodes that paſſe away, and generally of al wordly thynges, whoſe name is Fortune. But hauing been thine ſo long, that is to ſay, beyng but a ſhort tyme in thy diſpoſition, it is nowe hygh tyme for thee to depart, and to leaue them to others. Let them nowe learne to be at others commaundement awhile, and to keepe their accuſtomed chainge, vnleſſe thou wylt dye ſo ambitiouſly, as ſome fooles haue alſo done the lyke, and haue thy monie buried with thee in thy graue, whiche may one day redownd to the commoditie of them that dig graues hereafter. But rather nowe at length caſt from thee al care of the earth and metalles, and repoſe thy cogitations vpon heauen, and thine owne eſtate.
Feare.
My goodes flye from me.
Reaſon.
Diddeſt thou thinke that they woulde tarie, when thy lyfe paſſed away, and when thou thyſelfe waſt continually carried hence?
Feare.
What ſhal become of my goodes, when they leaue of to be myne?
Reaſon.
What dyd they before they were thyne?
Feare.
Leauing behynde me ſo great ryches as I doo, I depart naked.
Reaſon.
Naked thou cameſt into the worlde, and naked thou muſt depart agayne, whereof thou haſt no cauſe to complayne, but rather to geue thankes. In the meane tyme, thou haſt had the vſe and occupiyng of an others goodes: there is nothyng taken from thee that was thine owne, but only the goodes of another required agayne at thy handes when thou mayeſt occupie them no longer. For honeſt gueſtes when they are departyng away, doe willingly reſtoare
the veſſel and ſtuffe whiche they borowed of their hoſt.
Feare.
Alas, of al my ryches I carie not thus muche away with me.
Reaſon.
Carie away as much as thou broughteſt, or yf thou luſt, as muche as any kyng doth.
Feare.
What wyl my young chyldren do?
Reaſon.
If they lyue, they wyl growe vp and wax olde, and walke their owne wayes, and trye their owne fortune, and paſſe through their owne troubles: in the meane tyme they ſhal abide in Gods protection: and perhaps when thou waſt young thou liuedſt lykewyſe without a father.
Of one dying, that is careful what his wyfe wil do when he is dead. The .cxxviii. Dialogue.
FEARE.
WHat wyl my welbeloued wyfe do, when I am dead?
Reaſon.
Perhaps ſhe wyl marrie agayne: what is that to thee?
Feare.
What wyl my deere wife do?
Reaſon.
Beyng diſcharged from thy yoake, eyther ſhe wyl yeelde her necke to another, or liue at large, or els reſt herſelfe after her wearineſſe, & ſeeke only how to paſſe foorth her lyfe quietly.
Feare.
What wyl my moſt louing wyfe do?
Reaſon.
Doeſt thou aſke what ſhe wyl do when ſhe hath eſcaped from thee, and knoweſt not what ſhe dyd when ſhe was vnder thy ſubiection? The greater ſort of mortal men, beyng ignorant what is done at home in their owne houſes, hearken what is a dooing in heauen, and the fartheſt partes of the world. Truely, what ſhall become of thy wyfe after thy departure, let her ſelfe or her next huſbande looke to that, ſince that care appertayneth no longer to thee hereafter.
Feare.
I am afeard, leſt after my deceaſe my wyfe marrie agayne.
Reaſon.
Some there be that marrie, their olde huſbandes lyuing. Thus dyd Herodias among the Hebrewes, Sophroniſba among the Africanes, and Martia and Liuia among the Romanes, although their huſbandes conſent & commaundement doo excuſe theſe two laſt recited: & wylt thou onely binde thy wyfe from marriage? Yea, there are but few that lyue faythfully towardes their huſbandes, & wilt thou require that thy wife continue her truth to thy cold & ſenſeleſſe aſhes? If ſhe haue liued faythful to thee vnto the laſt day of thy lyfe, then
hath ſhe accomplyſhed the duetie of a true and truſtie ſpouſe.
Feare.
I am afeard that my wyfe wyl marrie agayne.
Reaſon.
That ſhe firſt married perhaps thou ſhouldeſt haue feared more: that belonged to thee, but her ſecond marrying ſhal apperteyne to another. But this is your common trade, ye contemne the things that ye ought to feare, and feare the thynges that ye ought to contemne, eſteeming of nothyng iuſtly as ye ought. Thou en
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redſt the combat of the married bed without feare, not forethinkyng what danger thou paſſedſt into, and art thou afeard now leaſt another ſhould do the like?
Feare.
I would not, I confeſſe, haue my wyfe marrie agayne.
Reaſon.
For a woman of exact & perfecte chaſtitie, I graunt, although ſhe be permitted by lawe to marrie agayne, yet were it better to abſtayne: but moſt of al to eſchue perilous widowhood. There is moreouer ſome ſuch tyme & occaſion, that a woman is not onely excuſed, but alſo enforced to marrie agayne. For it is an hard matter for a fayre woman to lyue alone chaſtly.
Feare.
My ſweete wyfe wyl marrie another huſband.
Reaſon.
There are but fewe women found, yea among them that are counted honeſt, that euen whyle their preſent huſbande is lyuing, do not determine in their minde who ſhal be their next. My huſband, ſay they, is a mortal man, and yf he chaunce to dye, ſhal I marrie next for vertue, or nobilitie, or loue, or eloquence, or bewtie, or perſon ſake?
Feare.
My wife wyl marrie againe.
Reaſon.
Not thy wyfe verily: for death wyl make that ſhe ſhal not be thine. And no merueile though it part man and wyfe, whiche diſſolueth the bandes whereby the body and ſoule are knyt togeather.
Feare.
My wyfe wyl marrie agayne.
Reaſon.
The wyues of the Romane Captaines, and Dukes and Emperours haue alſo married agayne, and therefore take in good part this fortune whiche is common to thee with thine auncetours.
Feare.
My wyfe wyl marrie agayne.
Reaſon.
The Romane Captaynes and Prynces did marrie wyddowes alſo, & ſo did the moſt godly kyng Dauid take to wife two wyddowes, that had been the wyues but of meane perſons: and it may ſo happen that one greater then thou may marrie thy wyfe, vnto whom reſigne this carefulneſſe, ſeeing thou goeſt thyther where there is no marrying at all.
Feare.
My ſweete wyfe wyl marrie another man.
Reaſon.
If ſhe marrie a better, reioyce at her proſperity whom thou louedſt. But if to a woorſe, be glad yet, for that ſhe wyl thinke more often vpon thee, and holde thee more deere. For there be many that haue learned to knowe and loue their firſt huſbandes, onely by their ſecond marriages.
Of one dying, that is careful what wyl become of his countrey after his deceaſſe. The
.cxxix. Dialogue.
FEARE.
WHat ſhal become of my countrey after my death?
Reaſon.
All good men haue but one countrey, and all euyl men another: take heede nowe into whiche of theſe two countries thou wilt be admitted a countreyman. As for a third countrey there is none, but onely an Inne and a place of paſſage, a thoroughfare.
Feare.
What wyll become of my countrey?
Reaſon.
That countrey which thou goeſt vnto, continueth alwayes in one eſtate: and this whiche thou now forſakeſt, as I haue oftentymes ſayde before, is not thy countrey, but hath rather been thy place of baniſhment.
Feare.
What wyl my countrey do after my deceaſſe?
Reaſon.
This is the peculiar care of kynges, to thynke what wil become of their kyngdomes & dominions after their death: the lyke whereof thou readeſt there reſted in the heart of the great king of Aſſyria, or of the moſt mightie emperour of the Romans. This care exceedeth the calling of a priuate perſon. But ſince nowe euen at thy very ende thou art ſo affected, that thou luſt to terme that ſtoarehouſe of miſerie, and hoſpital of payne and ſorow, wherein thou haſt paſſed foorth the ſwyft tyme of thy lyfe, in great trouble, aduerſitie, and heauineſſe, by the name of thy countrey, and art deſirous to knowe what it wyl doo, I wyl tell thee: it wyl do as it dyd, and as other countreyes do. What is that, thou wylt ſay? It wyl be troubleſome, diſquiet, diſſentious, and ſtudious of innouations: it wyl followe factions, chainge lordes and gouernours,
alter lawes, and both theſe many tymes for the woorſe, ſeldome for the better, ſpurne agaynſt the beſt and moſt noble ſubiectes, aduaunce the vnwoorthie, baniſhe the well deſeruing, eſteeme of the pillers & poullers of the treaſurie, loue flatterers, hate them that ſpeake the trueth, contemne the good, honour the myghtie, woorſhyp the enimies of it libertie, perſecute the defenders of the Commonwealth, weepe ſometyme and laugh without cauſe, eſteeme of golde and precious ſtones, reiect vertue, and embrace pleaſures: theſe are the manners and ſtate of your Cities and Countreys. There is none but may moſt aſſuredly prophecie vnto thee of theſe matters, vnleſſe he be ſuch an one as hath alwaies led a rurall lyfe, or entred into Townes with deafe eares, and dimme eyes.
Feare.
What wyll befall vnto my Countrey after my deceaſſe?
Reaſon.
Why art thou carefull, and troubled herewith? Whatſoeuer hapneth to thy Countrey, thy houſe ſhal be free from burnyng, theeues, and ouerthrowing. Whether the yeere fall out to be peſtilent, or els to be deare or plentiful, hot or drye, haylie, ſnowie, or raynie, froſtie, or otherwyſe moyſt & rotten: yea, the byrdes of the ayre, & wild beaſtes of the wooddes, the Caterpiller and Chaffer: finally, earthquakes, and raginges of the lea, dearth of victualles, inuaſions of enimies, or ciuile warres, none of all theſe are able to touche, or concerne thee hereafter.
Feare.
O, what ſhalbe the eſtate of my Countrey, or to what ende ſhal it come?
Reaſon.
To what other, thinkeſt thou, then that the greateſt citie and ſtate that euer was or ſhalbe is come vnto? to wit, duſt, aſhes, rubbyſh, ſcattered ſtones, and a name only rem
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yning? I could prooue this to be true by innumerable argumentes, but thou knoweſt the matter ſufficiently. To be ſhort, there is nothing apperteining vnto man that is euerlaſting, no worldly thyng permanent, but only the ſoule of man, which is immortal. Encloſures ſhal fayle, ſowed landes ſhal decay, buildinges ſhall fall downe, all thynges ſhall come to naught, and why art thou greeued and vexed in the minde? If thou be in heauen, thou wylt both diſpiſe this, and all other worldly thynges. But as for them that goe downe into hel, caſting of al charitie, it is to be entended that they hate both God and men, and alſo al the workes of God and man.
Of one that at his death is carefull of his fame and good report. The .Cxxx. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
WHAT wyll men ſpeake of me when I am dead?
Reaſon.
An vnſeaſonable care: thou ſhouldeſt haue prouided for this in thy youth: for looke what a mans life is, ſuche is his fame.
Sorowe.
What wyll they ſay of me?
Reaſon.
What ſhall I anſweare thee, other then that which the moſt learned and eloquent Marcus Cicero ſayeth? What other men ſhall ſpeake of thee, let them ſee to that them ſelues, but they wyl ſpeake notwithſtanding: howbeit, all their talke is comprehended within the narrowe boundes of theſe regions which thou ſeeſt: neyther was it euer continual of any, but is extinguiſhed by the death of men, and forgetfulneſse of poſteritie.
Sorow.
What wil they ſpeake of me, that ſhalbe borne herafter?
Reaſon.
I would tel thee otherwyſe then Cicero doeth, yf I thought that any thing could be better vttered then is by him. And what ſkilleth it, ſayth he, if thou be ſpoken of by them that ſhalbe borne hereafter, ſeeing there nowe remayneth no fame of them that were borne before thee? One thing he addeth moreouer, which perhaps at that time was doubtful, peraduenture falſe, but now very ſure, & moſt true without doubt: Who, ſayth he, were as many in number as you are now, and truely better men to. For who is he that doubteth, but that there wyl neuer come ſo good men, as there haue ben? Thus al thinges waxe woorſe & woorſe, and tend euery day toward their final ruine. A merueilous care then it is which thou haſt, to ſtande in feare of the ſpeeches of thoſe whom thou knoweſt not, & are thy youngers, as not liuing in ye ſame age with thee, ſeeing thou now contemneſt the iudgement and woordes of excellent men of thine owne time, and acquaintance.
Sorow.
What fame ſhal there be of me when I am dead?
Reaſon.
Far better then while thou liueſt, when enuie once holdeth her peace. For enuie and malice ſeldome laſt longer then a mans life: and as vertue is the roote of glorie, ſo is enuie the cutter downe of it: and as the enuious hand being preſent, hindreth the growth of it, ſo when it is taken away, it reſtoreth the encreaſe of true commendation. And therfore vnto
many, as the entrance into their graues hath been a bar vnto enuie, ſo hath it ben the beginning of great glorie.
Sorow.
Howe long wyl my fame continue?
Reaſon.
A long time perhaps, as you call long. But that all thinges may not only be long, but alſo euerlaſting, vertue alone is able to bring that to paſſe, and ſpecially Iuſtice, of which it is written: The iuſt man ſhalbe had in euerlaſting memorie: Which meaning alſo your countrey Poet expreſſed as wel as he could, where he ſayth: But by mens deedes their fame to ſtretch, that priuiledge vertue geues.
Sorow.
What fame ſhal I haue after my deceaſſe?
Reaſon.
What ſkilleth it what it be, which ſhortly ſhalbe forgotten or contemned? What ſhall the breath of men apperteyne vnto thee, when thou thy ſelfe ſhalt be without breath? For one that breatheth to be nouriſhed and delyghted with the winde and ayre, it is no meruaill: but for a dead man to be ſo, it is a woonder.
Sorowe.
What ſhalbe ſayde of me when I am dead?
Reaſon.
No goodneſſe, be ſure, vnleſſe thou haue deſerued it, but muche euyl peraduenture not merited: and perhappes lytle, or nothyng at all. For in many thynges fame is a lyer, but in the moſt a true reporter, otherwyſe it could not long continue. For trueth is the foundation of continuance, and as for a lye, it is weake and tranſitorie.
Sorowe.
What fame ſhall I haue after my death?
Reaſon.
Suche as thy lyfe was before and at thy death. Concernyng this matter therefore, let the tyme to come, but ſpecially the tyme preſent looke to that. And thus perſwade thy ſelfe aſſuredly, that what report and fame a man is woorthy to haue after his death, it is no way better diſcerned then at his death: when as in deede, which is a ſtrainge thyng to be ſpoken, many that haue lyued all theyr tyme obſcurely and without glorie, death onely hath made famous.
Of one that dyeth without Children. The .Cxxxj. Dialogue.
SOROWE.
I Die without children.
Reaſon.
For that cauſe thou oughteſt to die the more willingly, and with the more expedition to goe
foorth on thy iourney, for that thou haſt nothyng behinde thee, to ſtay thee or cal thee backe. The greateſt greefe which they that lie a dying haue, ſurceaſeth in thee, whiche riſeth vpon the ſorowe and compaſſion of leauing their children, ſpecially when they be young & neede the aſiſtance and counſel of their parentes, being at thoſe yeeres deſtitute of aduice, & ſubiect vnto iniuries, & many other caſualties.
Sorow.
My children, whom I wiſhed & hoped ſhould haue liued after me, are gone before me.
Reaſon.
Then haſt thou ſome, to whom thou art deſirous to goe, & from whom thou art not willing to depart, which is no ſmal comfort vnto thee.
Sorowe.
Bitter death conſtraineth me to dye without chyldren.
Reaſon.
If thou thinke this to be ſo miſerable a matter, what cauſe haſt thou either to die now, or heretofore to haue liued without children, ſeeing there is ſuch choiſe of young Gentlemen, & towardly youthes, among whom thou maieſt chooſe and adopt thee ſonnes, who perhaps wyl be more louing and obedient vnto thee then thine owne natural children, deſcended of thy fleſh & blood: for they come vnto thee by chaunce, but theſe are elected out of many by exquiſite iudgment? The other were thy children before thou kneweſt them, but theſe thou kneweſt, choſeſt, and louedſt before thou madeſt them thy children. And therefore, the one ſort of them wil wholy impute it to nature, that they are thy children, but the other to thy ſpecial good liking. Whereby it hath hapned many times, that the ſucceſſion by adoption hath ben very fortunate vnto the heyres, in which kind not only meane inheritances, but alſo whole Empires haue ben committed in truſt. Thou knoweſt howe Iulius Caeſar wanting iſſue, adopted Auguſtus to be his ſonne, & Auguſtus againe adopted Tyberius almoſt againſt his wyl. And likewiſe afterward, how Nerua adopted Vlp
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us Traianus, and he Elius Hadrianus, & be againe Antonius pius, & he likewiſe toke vnto him Marcus Aurelius to be his ſonne: which Marcus, I would to God he had more happily adopted any other, then vnluckely begotten his ſonne Commodus, commodious to none, but diſcommodiouss to the whole world, the only diſgracing of ſo good a father, & one among a few of them that were no ſmall ſhame & reproch to the Romane Empire, & alſo a moſt apparent argument how much adoption is more fortunate then procreatiō.
For whereas the firſt princes had in order one after another raigned long time & in happie eſtate, this man forſaking the ſleppes of ſo many his auncetours & predeceſſours, hauing defiled the Commonwealth with his ſhort and filthy gouernment, or rather tyrannie, at laſt came to a miſerable, but for his deſartes a woorthy end, the whole contempt & mockerie of the common people being turned vpon him. But long before al theſe, Scipio that was the ſonne of Scipio Africanus the great, adopted vnto him ſelfe to the honour of his familie, the ſecond thunderbolt of the Punike war, and hammer of the citie of Carthage, by ſpecial ordinance appointed to that purpoſe, that ye ſame citie which the grandfather had ſhaken, the nephew ſhould ouerthrow, as Florus the Hiſtorician ſayeth, being tranſlated from the ſtock of Aemilia, into the familie of Cornelia, no ſmall glory, & confeſſe, and yet the laſt of them both. Hereby thou ſeeſt, that neither thou, nor any Prince can lacke a ſonne, or rather that which is beſt of al, they that are good can not lacke a good choiſe: which if it pleaſe thee to make, perhaps it wil geue thee ſuch an one as thy wife wyl not bring thee the like, & being loſed from the bandes of marriage ſhalt poſſeſſe the deſired effect and end of matrimonie: In ſuch ſort doth the law prouide for the defectes of Nature.
Sorow.
How ſhal I now diſpoſe of my houſe, ſince that I die without children?
Reaſon.
Do not refuſe this great occaſion of wel deſeruing and commendation, which is now, as it were throwen into thy lap: and that which thou determineſt to beſtowe vpon thy children, who peraduenture would be vnthankful for it, or wickedly hoorde it vp, or els as it is the cuſtome of either ſort of theſe, to conuert it to vngodly vſes, or rather in very ſhort tyme or waſte & conſume al moſt prodigally, employ thou more cōmendably, more profitably, & more durably. Attalus that was king of Pergamus, by his teſtament made the people of Rome his heire, not being poore nor needefull of it, who alſo were sſhortly after corrupted with the wanton wealth of Aſia. But I wyl tel thee of another people, to whom thou mayeſt leaue thy goodes. On the one ſide of thee ſtandeth a route of thy freendes & kinſfolke, at the other a rabble of poore people, out of both which thou art permitted to adopt chyldren. The one ſort of theſe, when thou art gone, wyll deteyne the ſweete remembraunce of thee in
theyr mindes, the other preuent thee with their godly prayers vnto the place whyther thou art nowe paſſing: inſomuch as, looke what thou beſtoweſt vpon them here, thou ſhalt receiue an hundred fold there, which is a large intereſt, & a moſt aſſured prouiſion for them that are vpon the poynt to paſſe that way.
Sorow.
I die without a ſonne.
Reaſon.
What if thou haddeſt many: wouldeſt thou then choſe one of them to be the keeper of thy houſe and money, which ſhal be thine no longer? Or wouldeſt thou appoint one of them to be thy Champion in the conflict & pangues of death, beyng hym ſelfe alſo mortall? or els to wayte vpon thee to thy graue? for farther none of all thy freendes wyl folowe thee, more then Metellus freendes followed hym. The way is but ſhort from the death bed to the graue: and what ſkilleth it whether thou lye alone here, or there? Theſe are but friuolous and vaine cauſes truely, to wyſh for ſonnes: and yf in them moreouer, as the vulgare ſpeeche is, thou hopedſt to haue thy name preſerued and continued, thou waſt alſo vulgarly deceiued. For doubtleſſe, for the moſt part ſuche is the obſcureneſſe of the children generally to be found, that they are not able to beautifie nor to keepe vp their fathers name. But the rare nobilite of the ſonnes, as alwayes it maketh the ſonnes them ſelues honourable, ſo for neereneſſe ſake ſometyme it couereth and obſcureth the parentes, euen as the Sunne doth the leſſer Starres: which is in none ſeene more euidently then in Iulius Caeſars father, whom his ſonnes bryghtneſſe made almoſt vnknowen. And to be ſhort, whoſoeuer repoſeth the truſt of his name in his ſonne, he putteth a ſlender and ſlipperie ſubſtance into a rotten and cracked earthen veſſell, and which is more foolyſh, that is none of his owne: a thyng truely more accounted of among the common multitude, then of the learned, and yet contemned of neyther: Howbeit this hope were more commendably and aſſuredly layde vp in their ſounde and vncorruptible veſſels, to wit, in their owne vertue, notable deedes, and learning.
Sorowe.
I dye without chyldren.
Reaſon.
Thou haſt none to diuide thy care vpon, thyne attendaunce is fixed only on thy ſelfe, ſo that thou maieſt depart with more readineſſe and libertie, reſpectyng thy ſelfe, and conſideryng thine owne eſtate, how miſerable or happie thou ſhalt die. And further,
thou dieſt not in an vncertayntie whether thy miſerie be augmented, or felicitie abated by the diſhonour or vertue of another. Although ſome others be of another opinion, to accord with whom I finde my ſelfe more wyllyng: notwithſtandyng it hath ſeemed true for the moſt part vnto Philoſophers of great ſkil that the fathers eſtate concernyng miſerie or happineſſe, is varied by the euent of the chyldren. Truely it is a weake good thyng that ſtreatcheth vnto fortune that ſhal befal hereafter, and dependeth vpon anothers eſtate. Whiche opinion if we do admit, what may be concluded thereon thou knoweſt: for it is out of al doubt, that many had departed in more happie eſtate, if they had dyed without chyldren.
Of one dying, that feareth to be throwne foorth vnburied. The .Cxxxii. Dialogue.
FEARE.
I Shalbe throwen foorth vnburyed.
Reaſon.
Enuieſt thou the birdes, or the beaſtes, or the fiſhes? And yf thou be afearde of them, take order that thou mayeſt haue one appoynted to keepe thee, or a ſtaffe layde by thee to dryue them away from thy carcaſſe.
Feare.
Thou doeſt ieſt at my miſerie, for truely I ſhal feele nothyng.
Reaſon.
Why then doeſt thou feare that which thou ſhalt not feele? If thou couldeſt feele it thou wouldeſt lyke wel of it: for to burie one that feeleth, is to kyl him.
Feare.
I ſhal lye vnburied.
Reaſon.
If the earth preſſe not thee, thou ſhalt preſſe the earth: & if the earth couer thee not, heauen wyll. Thou knoweſt the olde ſaying: Him heauen hides, that hath none other graue. And very wel knowen is this other moſt common ſpeech alſo: To lacke a graue is but a ſlender loſſe: ſo ſlender a loſſe indeede, that there is none more ſlender.
Feare.
I ſhal lye vnburied, which is a woful thyng to be ſpoken.
Reaſon.
I know not what to be ſpoken, but truely in effect a very trifle: & beleeue me, it is muche more tollerable for a man to be throwne out of his graue, then to be turned out of his bed, or apparrel.
Feare.
I I ſhal lye vnburied, whiche is a filthie ſight.
Reaſon.
Filthie perhaps vnto others, but nothing at al vnto thee. It is the general opinion of al learned men, and experience alſo confirmeth no
leſſe, that all manner of buriall was deuiſed not ſo muche for the dead ſake, as for the lyuing. Which to be true, the outward ſhewe and repreſentation of Tumbes & graues doth euidently declare, whiche within ſide beyng euyl fauoured and horrible, do encloſe their tenaunt within rough and rude rubbiſh, but on the outſide are wrought with great cunning and coſt, where the workemen for the moſt part decke them foorth to the viewe with carued pictures of marble, and ſtatues of golde, and armes beawtifully depainted.
Feare.
I ſhal lye vnburied, which is a loathſome thyng to behold.
Reaſon.
Haſt thou ſo litle buſineſſe to doo of thine owne, that thou muſt meddle with other folkes matters? Let them looke to that whom the matter concerneth, as for this loathſomeneſſe, thou ſhalt not ſee it.
Feare.
I ſhalbe left vnburyed, whiche is a miſerable caſe.
Reaſon.
Yea, Pompeius the great as woorthie a perſonage as he was, lay vnburied: or rather lay not ſtil, but was ouerwhelmed & toſſed with ye ſurging waues. Neyther do I thinke thee to be ſo mad or foolyſh, that in thine opinion he ſhould haue been made the more happie if he had been buried: as his companion Marcus Craſſus was neuer awhit the more vnfortunate, in that there was none preſent to cauſe hym to be enterred. In al other thinges they were almoſt equal, ſauing that Craſſus head, as it was moſt meete for hym yt was of al men the moſt rych & couetous, beyng more heauie then gold, was preſerued, but neuertheleſſe both of them to be contemned & reprochfully dealt withal. Vnleſſe perhaps their third fellowe be more happie, for that he was ſet vp to be ſeene vpon the heade of a moſt loftie and bewtifull Coloſſus, ouerlookyng there the toppes of the higheſt churches and ſteeples: whom perhaps I may confeſſe to haue been in warre more fortunate, but in buriall I muſt needes denye it. So that I may ſay, that the ſame ſtone is bewtified by hym, but made nothyng the happier. For what happineſſe can this be in hym that hath no feelyng, or as a man woulde ſay, in one ſtone not couered with another? For yf it were otherwyſe, that a graue or Tumbe made a man fortunate, who were more happie then Mauſolus?
Feare.
I ſhal lye vnburyed.
Reaſon.
Both Paulus Aemilius, and Claudius Marcellus had
lyen vnburied, had not their moſt deadly enimie dained them of a graue, the rather, as I ſuppoſe, in admiration of their vertue, & in reſpect of his owne honeſtie, then mooued with any remorſe of duetie or conſcience, wherof there reſted no one iote within that mans hart. In ſomuche, that I thinke they hated their graues when they were enterred, & yf they might haue had their libertie, would rather haue choſen to haue lyen vnburyed. Cyrus alſo that was kyng of Perſia lay vnburied, & neither that, nor yet his Scythian bottle were any reproch vnto hym at all, but rather their cruel and ſauage manners, by meanes of which he ſuſteyned that moſt foule ignominie, & ſhameful iniurie. But why do I now gather togeather ſo many ſeueral naked corpſes, with Romane emperours, and forreine kinges, that were bereaued not onely of the laſt and wiſhed ſolemnitie of their graues, but alſo of the vayne honour belonging thereunto: & farther, which more is, that were torne & plucked in peeces, & throwen about in mammockes, that a man woulde iudge it an enuious matter to haue lyen with an whole carcas: ſeeing that there are cōuerſant in our mindes & memories the miſerable maſſacres of whole nations dead, and as a man may ſay, the whole worlde vnburyed? For why, with kyng Cyrus of whom I ſpake erewhile, there were two hundred thouſād Perſians ſlayne: and alſo with Craſſus, ſixteene moſt valiant & flouriſhing legions: & at the ouerthrowe at Cannas, aboue foureſcore & fiue thouſand citizens of Rome & their confederates: and ſixe & fiftie thouſand Carthagiens, Spaniardes, Ligurians, and Frenchmen at the ryuer Metaurus, togeather with their Captayne: and againe at Aquas Sextias, which is the proper name of the place, two hundred thouſand Germanes not farre from the Alpes, Marius beyng General in both places, which were but an hundred & fiftie thouſand as ſome wryters do report, but they that ſay leaſt of al, not aboue threeſcore thouſand Cimbrians, whiche lay there vnburied. Moreouer, at Philippi the aides of al confederate kinges & nations, and the floure and ſtrength of the Italian youth, as it pleaſed the maieſtie of the goddes ſo to deale, wanting the honour of burial, made fat the Aemonian fieldes, & filled the paunches of the wylde beaſtes and carren crowes. What ſhal I ſay of the Carthagien fleete that was vtterly deſtroyed at the
Ilandes Egates? Or of the Maſſilian nauie that was diſcomfited at their owne very hauens mouth, and within the ſight of their faythful countrey? And (that I may not euermore dwel in diſcourſe of the Italian toyles and miſeries) when the whole Athenian power by ſea was drowned before the citie of Syracuſe, what graue or burial had they? I paſſeouer in ſilence Salamina and Marathon, with three hundred thouſand Perſians whith many. I let paſſe the conflictes of the Hebrewes, of the Scythians, and Amazons, the battayles of the Arabians, Parthians and Medes. I ouerſlyp the conqueſtes & ſlaughters that Alexander king of Macedonie made in the Eaſt among the naked & vnarmed people there. I ſpeake nothyng of al ſuch kindes of plagues, whereby it is a woful caſe to here, how many woorthie & deerelie beloued carcaſes haue been moſt pitifully defiled, ſpoyled, and made away. Neyther ouer and beſides this, of the incurſion of ſerpentes and wylde beaſtes, by whoſe ſuddeyne inuaſion Dicaearchus teacheth, as Cicero reporteth, how that certeyne whole kindreds and nations of people haue been deſtroyed. Nor of tempeſtes, and dayly ſhypwrackes: for as for thoſe that peryſhe by fire, there is no man wyl ſay that they neede any graue. I omit ciuil furies and outrages, and domeſtical broyles and contentions, of whiche it is ſayde: That cyuile warre can ſcarſe graunt a graue to the captaynes: whiche may be muche more truely veryfied of forreine battayles. Neyther ſtande I vpon the ruines of cities and townes, as namely, Troy, Hieruſalem, Carthage, Corinth, Numantia, Saguntum, with many other moe, wherein the moſt part of the citizens being ouerthrowne by the fall of the walles and buildinges, were buryed with their cuntry. Laſt of all, I ouerſlip earthquakes, by meanes wherof many men that were ouerwhelmed, had the whole wombe of their mother the earth to receiue them in ſteede of a ſepulture. Which being in old tyme, as alſo of late dayes an ordinarie miſchiefe in diuerſe places, yet neuer raged any where more notoriouſly then in Aſia, whereas it is reported, that there were twelue cities by horrible gapynges of the earth deuoured in one day. Theſe many and great matters haue I to this end
•
recited, that I myght take away from thee this ridiculous feare, who dreadeſt the loſſe of a graue nore then death is ſelfe: and takeſt greeuouſly that this thy poore carcas ſhoulde want that, whiche it is maniféſt ſo many thouſand woorthie men and valiant warriours, and which is a more haynous matter, holy Sainctes, haue lacked.
Feare.
The earth is denyed me when I am dead, whiche is a very hard matter.
Reaſon.
This is not harde, but thou art tender that canſt be hurt, and yet feeleſt nothyng.
Feare.
The earth is denyed me when I am dead, whiche is an vnwoorthie thing.
Reaſon.
Howe ſo? Art thou then due to the earth, or the earth to thee? Perhaps the earth may be denyed thee, but not thou the earth. Some chaunce peraduenture, or iniurie of the enimie may depriue thee of thy graue: but thou that cameſt from the earth muſt needes returne thyther agayne: whiche thing ſince the Lorde thy God hath forewarned thee of by his owne mouth, cannot be falſe.
Feare.
The earth ſhal not couer me in her boſome.
Reaſon.
But thou ſhalt couer her with thy nakes body: and what ſhal this apperteyne more vnto thee after thy death, then it doth at this preſent, what is become of the paringes of thy nayles, and clypping of thy haire, and the blood that was let out for ſome feauer or other diſeaſe, and alſo of the pieces of thy chyldrens coates, and infantes mantles, and ſwadlebandes when thou waſt in thy tender yeeres? Haſt thou forgotten the gallant anſwere of Theodorus Cyrenaeus in Tullie: whom when Lyſimachus the kyng threatned to hang vp, vpon the galous, as I take it: Theſe terrible thynges, quoth he, threaten vnto thy gorgious courtyers: as for Theodorus, he careth not whether he rotte aloft or vpon the ground. And if the earth receiue thee not into her boſome, yet ſhal ſhe entertayne thee vpon her face, wheras the graſſe ſhall cloath thee, & the flowers decke thee being glad of ſuche a gueſt, and the raine moiſten thee, and the ſunne burne thee, and the froſt freeſe thee, and the winde mooue thee: and perhaps this is a more natural meane, wherby the body whiche is framed of the foure elementes, may be reſoued into ſo many agayne.
Feare.
I am left vnburyed, whiche is horrible to be heard.
Reaſon.
This horrour conſiſteth in opinion, and not in trueth, foraſmuch as ſome haue thought it an horrible matter to be couered with earth, & very faire to be conſumed with fire, as we know your a
•
nce
•
ours were perſwaded. Among ſ
•
me it was counted an honourable death, to be torne in peeces by dogges and wylde beaſtes. Concernyng this poynt there are innumerable cuſtomes & manners among nations, which being curiouſly gathered togeather by Criſpus, Cicero hath abridged. Thou ſhalt lye vpon the bare ground: but another ſhalbe preſſed with a great rough ſtone, another couered with rotten cloddes, another flit weliring dead in the water, another as he hangeth be driuen with the wind, beaten with the haile, torne by the rauens and crowes: & to be ſhort, they that haue been perfumed with odours, & cloathed with purple the woormes ſhal conſume them. And that more hath he that is couered with marble and gold, ouer him who weeping in the Poet, ſayeth: And now the ſurges drench me, and the windes beate me agaynſt the ſhoare? Although he alſo, folowing the ſway of the common errour, abhorreth to be couered with earth. Vnleſſe perhaps thou do likewyſe condeſcend to fables & olde wiues tales, thinking that the ſoules of them that lye vnburied do wander an hundred yeeres about the bankes of the helliſh lake: which toyes truely a ſound & religious minde vtterly reiecteth.
Feare.
I am denied a graue in my natiue ſoyle.
Reaſon.
If thou haue a turfe left thee in thy natural countrey, thou art in caſe, that Phocion, as great a man as he was, may enuie at thee: whom being a citizen of Athenes, & hauing otherwyſe deſerued thereof then I doubt me thou haſt of thy countrey, the vnthankeful citie banniſhed out of their confines when he was dead: a ſtrainge kinde of crueltie.
Feare.
I ſhalbe caſt foorth vnburied.
Reaſon.
Se to thyne owne buſineſſe, and leaue this care vnto the lyuing.
FINIS.
Imprinted at London in Paules Churchyarde, by Rychard VVatkins. 1579.
A Table of the matters conteined in the fyrſt booke of this woorke.
OF Flooriſhyng yeeres. Folio. 1.
Of the goodly Beautie of the Body. Folio. 2.
Of Bodyly health. Folio. 4.
Of Reſtored health. Eod.
Of Bodyly ſtrength. Folio. 5.
Of Swyftneſſe of bodye. Folio. 6.
Of Wytte. Eod.
Of Memorie. Folio. 7.
Of Eloquence. Folio. 8.
Of Vertue. Folio. 10.
Of the opinion of Vertue. Folio. 11.
Of Wyſedome. Folio. 12.
Of Religion. Folio. 14.
Of Freedome. Eod.
Of a glorious Countrey. Folio. 15.
Of an honourable Familie. Folio. 18.
Of a fortunate Begynning. Folio. 20.
Of Sumptuous fare. Folio. 21.
Of Feaſtes. Folio. 23.
Of Apparrell and trimming of the Bodye. Folio. 26.
Of Reſt and quietneſſe. Folio. 27.
Of pleaſaunt Smelles. Folio. 29.
Of the ſweeteneſſe of Muſicke. Folio. 30.
Of Daunſing. Folio. 32.
Of playing with the Ball. Folio. 34.
Of playing at Dice and Lottes. Eod.
Of proſperous playing at Tables. Folio. 35.
Of Ieſters. Folio. 37.
Of the games of Wreſtlyng. Folio. 38.
Of ſundry Spectacles and Shewes. Folio. 40.
Of Horſes. Folio. 42.
Of Hunting and Haukyng. Folio. 44.
Of great retinue of Seruauntes. Folio. 45.
Of the magnificence and beautifulneſſe of Houſes. Folio. 47.
Of ſtrong defenced Caſtles, Eod.
Of precious houſholde ſtuffe. Folio. 48.
Of Precious ſtones and Pearles. Folio. 49.
Of Cuppes made of Precious ſtones. Folio. 53.
Of Engrauinges, and Seales in Precious ſtones. Folio. 56.
Of Pictures and paynted Tables. Folio. 57.
Of Statues and Images. Folio. 58.
Of Veſſelles of Corinth. Folio. 60.
Of ſtore of Bookes. Folio. 61.
Of the fame of Wryters. Folio. 64.
Of Maiſterſhyppe. Folio. 66.
Of ſundrie tytles of Studies. Folio. 67.
Of Tytles of Buſineſſe and Affayres. Folio. 69.
Of Tytles of Warres W
•••
cuyre, and Chiefetayneſhyp, Folio. 70.
Of the Fr
•••
dſhyp of Kinges. Folio. 71.
Of the abundance of Freendes. Folio. 72.
Of Freendes not knowen, but by report. Folio. 74.
Of one onely Faythfull Freende. Folio. 75.
Of Plenty of Rycheſſe. Folio. 77.
Of fyndyng of a Golde mine. Eod.
Of the fynding of Treaſure. Folio. 78.
Of Vſurie. Eod.
Of Fruitefull and wel tylled Lande. Folio. 80.
Of Pleaſant greene walkes. Folio. 81.
Of Flockes and heardes of Cattell. Folio. 83.
Of Elephantes and Cammelles. Eod.
Of Apes, and other beaſtes of Pleaſure. Folio. 84.
Of Peacockes, Chickins, Hennes, Bees, and Pigions. Eod.
Of Fyſhe pondes. Folio. 85.
Of Cages of Byrdes, and of Speaking, and Singing Byrdes. Folio. 87.
Of the worthineſſe of Mariage. Folio. 89.
Of a fayre Wyfe. Folio. 90.
Of a fruitefull and eloquent Wyfe▪ Folio. 91.
Of a great Dowrie. Eod.
Of Pleaſant Loue. Folio. 92.
Of the Byrth of Chyldren. Folio. 96.
Of a Pleaſant young Chylde. Eod.
Of the excellent Fauour of Chyldren. Folio. 97.
Of the valiencie and magnificencie of a Sonne. Folio. 98.
Of the Daughters chaſtitie. Folio. 99.
Of a good Sonne in Lawe. Eod.
Of Seconde Mariage. Folio. 100.
Of the Mariage of Chyldren. Folio. 101.
Of Nephues. Folio. 102.
Of Adopted Chyldren. Folio. 103.
Of an excellent Schoolemaiſter. Eod.
Of a notable Scholler. Folio. 104.
Of a good Father. Folio. 105.
Of a moſt Louing Mother. Eod.
Of Good Brethren, and Louing and Fayre Syſters. Folio. 106.
Of a good Lorde. Folio. 107.
Of the Cleareneſſe of the Ayre. Folio. 109.
Of Fortunate Saylyng. Eod.
Of wyſhed Arriuing at the Haune. Folio. 110.
Of commyng foorth of Pryſon. Eod.
Of a quiet State. Folio. 111.
Of Power. Folio. 113.
Of Glorie. Folio. 114.
Of Benefites beſtowed vpon many. Folio. 115.
Of Loue of the people. Folio. 116.
Of Inuadyng a Tyrannie. Folio. 117.
Of a Kyngdome and Empire. Folio. 119.
Of a furniſhed Armie. Folio. 123.
Of a wel apppoynted Nauie. Folio. 124.
Of engyns and Artillarie. Folio. 125.
Of Treaſure layde vp in ſtore. Folio. 126.
Of Reuenge. Eod.
Of hope to Wynne. Folio. 129.
Of Victorie. Eod.
Of the death of an Enemie. Folio. 130.
Of hope of Peace. Folio. 131.
Of peace and Truce. Folio. 132.
Of the Popedome. Folio. 133.
Of Happyneſſe. Folio. 134.
Of good Hope. Folio. 136.
Of expectation of Inheritance. Folio. 138.
Of Alchimie. Follo. 139.
Of the promiſes of wyſe men and Soothſayers. Folio. 140.
Of Glad tydynges. Folio. 143.
Of Expectyng a mans ſonne, or farmer, or wyfe. Eod.
Of Lookyng for better tymes. Folio. 145.
Of the hoped comming of a Prynce. Folio. 146.
Of hope of fame after Death. Folio. 147.
Of Glory hoped for by buyldyng. Folio. 148.
Of Glory hoped for by keepyng company. 149.
Of Manyfold hope. Folio. 150.
Of hoped quietneſſe of Mynde. Eod.
Of the hope of lyfe Euerlaſtyng. Folio. 151.
The Table of the matters conteyned in the ſecond Booke of this woorke.
OF the deformitie of the Bodye. Folio. 162.
Of Weakeneſſe. Folio. 164.
Of Syckneſſe. Folio. 165.
Of a baſe Countrey. Eod.
Of Baſeneſſe of Stocke. Folio. 166.
Of a ſhamefull Byrth. Folio. 169.
Of Bondage. Folio. 171.
Of Pouertie. Folio. 174.
Of Damage ſuſteyned. Folio. 175.
Of Thynne fare. Folio. 178.
Of Originall pouertie. Folio. 180.
Of the heauie burden of many Chyldren. Eod.
Of Money loſt. Folio. 183.
Of Suertiſhyppe. Folio. 187.
Of Loſſe of tyme. Folio. 188.
Of Vnfortunate p
•
a
•
ing at Tables. Folio. 190.
Of Her vnto whom one was aſſured, iudged vnto another. Eod.
Of the loſſe of a mans Wyfe. Folio. 191.
Of a Shrewyſhe Wyfe. Folio. 193.
Of the ſtealyng away of a mans Wyfe. Folio. 194.
Of an vnchaſte Wyfe. Eod.
Of a barren Wyfe. Folio. 197.
Of an vnchaſte Daughter. Folio. 198.
Of Shame commyng from an other. Folio. 199.
Of Infamie. Folio. 200.
Of Shame procured by meanes of vnwoorthy commendation. Folio. 202.
Of Vnthankfull Freendes. Folio. 203.
Of Vnthankfull perſons. Folio. 204.
Of Euyll Seruauntes. Folio. 206.
Of Fugitiue Seruauntes. Folio. 107.
Of Importunate Neyghbours. Folio. 208.
Of Enimies. Folio. 209.
Of occaſion loſt to reuenge. Folio. 210.
Of the peoples Hatred. Folio. 211.
Of Enuie, Paſſiuely. Eod.
Of Contempt. Folio. 212.
Of Long expectyng a promiſed Rewarde. Folio. 213.
Of Repulſes. Eod.
Of an vniuſt Lorde. Folio. 215.
Of an Vnlearned Schoolemaiſter. Folio. 216.
Of an Vnapt and proude Scholer. Folio. 217.
Of a Stepdame. Folio. 218.
Of the hardneſſe of a Father. Eod.
Of a ſtubburne Sonne. Folio. 220.
Of a contentious Brother. Folio. 221.
Of the Loſſe of a Father. Folio. 222.
Of the Loſſe of a Mother. Eod.
Of the loſſe of a Sonne. Eod.
Of the miſerable fal of a young Chylde. Folio. 224.
Of A ſonne that is founde to be another mans. Eod.
Of the loſſe of a Brother. Folio. 226.
Of the death of a Freend. Folio. 227.
Of the abſence of Freendes. Folio. 228.
Of greeuous Shyp wracke. Folio. 230.
Of Burnyng. Eod.
Of Great labour and Trauayle. Folio. 231.
Of A payneful Iourney. Folio. 232.
Of One yeeres Barrenneſſe. Folio. 234.
Of An euyl and proude Bayliffe. Folio. 235.
Of Theft. Folio. 236.
Of Robberies. Folio. 237.
Of Cooſynage and deceite. Eod.
Of A ſtreyght and narrome dwellyng. Folio. 238.
Of A Pryſon. Folio. 239.
Of Tormentes. Folio. 240.
Of Vniuſt Iudgement. Folio. 241.
Of Banyſhment. Folio. 242.
Of A mans countrey Beſieged. Folio. 245.
Of A mans countrey Deſtroyed. Folio. 246.
Of the feare of looſyng in warre. Folio. 247.
Of A foolyſhe and raſhe felowe in office. Folio. 248.
Of an vndiſcreete and haſtie marſhal of the Feelde. Eod.
Of vnfortunate ſucceſſe in battayle. Folio. 249.
Of Ciuile warre. Folio. 250.
Of the diſagreement of a waueryng mynde. Folio. 251.
Of a doubtful State. Folio. 253.
Of Woundes receyued. Eod.
Of a kyng without a Sonne. Folio. 254
Of a kyngdome Loſt. Folio. 255.
Of Treaſon. Folio. 257.
Of the loſſe of a Tyrannie. Folio. 258.
Of Caſtles loſt. Folio. 260.
Of olde Age. Folio. 262.
Of the Gout. Folio. 267.
Of Scabbes. Folio. 268.
Of Watchyng. Folio. 269.
Of the vnquietneſſe of Dreames Eod.
Of Importunate renowme. Folio. 270.
Of Sorowe conceyued for the euyl manners of men. Folio. 272.
Of Smal greefes of ſundry thynges. Folio. 273.
Of an Earthquake. Folio. 279.
Of the plague farre and wyde ragyng. Folio. 280.
Of Sadneſſe and miſerie. Eod.
Of the Toothache. Folio. 284.
Of payne in the Legges. Folio. 285.
Of Blyndneſſe. Folio. 286.
Of the loſſe of Hearyng. Folio. 289.
Of the loathſomneſſe of Lyfe. Folio. 290.
Of Heauineſſe of the body. Folio. 291.
Of great dulneſſe of wyt. Eod.
Of a ſlender and weake Memorie Folio. 292.
Of lacke of Eloquence. Folio. 293.
Of Loſſe of the tongue and ſpeeche. Folio. 294.
Of want of Vertue. Folio. 296.
Of Couetouſneſſe. Folio. 297.
Of Enuie and Mallice. Eod.
Of Wrath. Folio. 298.
Of Gluttonie. Folio. 299.
Of ſluggiſheneſſe of the Mynde. Eod.
Of Le
•
cherie. Folio. 300
Of Pryde. Eod.
Of Agues. Folio. 301.
Of the
〈◊〉
e of the guttes and Traunce. Folio. 302.
Of Sundry paynes and greefes of the whole body. Folio. 303.
Of Madneſſe. Folio. 309.
Of Poyſon. Folio. 310.
Of the feare of death. Folio. 311.
Of Voluntarie murtheryng a mans owne ſelfe. Folio. 315.
Of Death. Folio. 319.
Of Death before a mans tyme. Folio. 322.
Of a violent Death. Folio. 324.
Of a ſhameful Death. Folio. 326.
Of a ſodayne Death. Folio. 327.
Of one that is ſicke out of his owne Countrey. Folio. 328.
Of one that dyeth out of his owne Countrey. Eod.
Of One that dyeth in ſinne. Folio. 332.
Of One dying, that is careful what ſhal become of his inheritance and chyldren. Folio. 334.
Of One dying, yt is careful what his wyfe wil do when he is dead. Folio. 335.
Of One dying, that is careful what wyll become of his countrey after his deceaſſe. Folio. 336.
Of One that at his death is careful of his fame and good report. Folio. 337.
Of One that dyeth without chyldren. Folio. 338.
Of One dying, that feareth to be throwen foorth vnburyed. Folio. 340.
FINIS.