THE civil Conversation of M. Steeven Guazzo written first in Italian, and now translated out of French by George Pettie, divided into four books.  
In the first is contained in general, the fruits that may be reaped by conversation, and teaching how to know good company from ill.  
In the second, the manner of conversation, meet for all persons, which shall come in any company, out of their own houses, and then of the particular points which ought to be observed in company between young men and old, Gentlemen and Yeomen, Princes and private persons, learned and unlearned, Citizens and Strangers, Religious and Secular, men & women.  
In the third is particularly set forth the orders to be observed in conversation within doors, between the husband and the wife, the father and the son, brother and brother, the Master and the servant.  
In the fourth, the report of a banquet.  
¶ Imprinted at London by Richard Watkins. 1581.   

¶ To the honourable, and his very good Lady, the Lady Norrice, GEORGE PETTIE wisheth contentation in all things.  
GOOD Madam, the force of virtue is such, that it purchaseth to those which are endued with it, the good will of those which are strangers unto them 〈◊〉 much more must it make me dutifully affectioned to your Ladyship, who am neither stranger to you, nor unacquainted with your noble & virtuous disposition: in sign of which my duty and affection I have presumed to present unto you the first sight of this my translation, humbly dedicating it to your honourable protection, knowing that none will more willingly undertake the defence of learning, than those who are endued with singular wit and learning, and thinking none more worthy to receive the first fruits of learning, than those who bear especial favour to learning. I will not here enter into the wide field of your virtues, for that I know you take more pleasure in doing well, then in hearing well, and for that the right Coral needeth no coulouring, neither the fine Marble painting, neither can my pen possibly procure more honour to your name, than it hath already gotten, partly by your own doings, partly by the renowned deeds of the noble▪ Gentlemen your sons, of whom, some are furnished with such wisdom, with such discretion, and with such sufficiency every way, that our Prince and Country cannot spare their good service: some are endued with such valour, that our Country is too little to contain the greatness of their minds, some with such manly prowess, even in their childish years, that it stood our Country of late in no small steed, in repressing and subduing our rebellious enemies. And though some of them like Alexander the great, seek new Countries, and new worlds to show their valiancy in, yet they remain most ready to do our country service, whensoever it shall please our Prince to command their return. And would to God it might please her Majesty with speed to command it: for such rare jewels are well worth the wearing, such worthy Captains are necessary to be had in these dangerous times: especially being such whose valiancy is sufficiently known to all men, and whose fidelity may be sufficiently warranted to her Highness, by the good and trusty service of their noble father my Lord Norrice, both within this Realm, and out of the Realm, & of their worthy grandfather, my Lord Williams, both before her Majesty came to the Crown, and after: and by the rare virtue which they have showed, and the faithful service they have done where they are: Whose credit is so great, whose name so renowned, that it shall never die, while the low Countries, while Macklin, while Stenewike, no not while the world stands. And if any name within these late years, have by their valiant deeds won honour to England (without derogation be it spoken) it is the name of the Norrices. And if any parents in England may count themselves happy in their children, it is my Lord Norrice, it is your Ladyship. You may compare with Olimpias for her Alexander, with Hecuba for her Hector, with Thetis for her Achilles. And if you be asked where your jewels are, you may with Cornelia point to your children, you may point to that rare jewel which you have continually abou● you, who both in virtue and beauty excelleth the richest Diamond, and the most precious Pearl that is. But I am entering into a matter without end, therefore I will stay at the beginning: humbly requesting you to accept in good part this small proof of my good will, and to assure yourself of my readiness to do you service in greater matters when it shall please you to employ me. From my lodging this sixth of February. 1581.  
Your Ladyships readily to com●●●nd, George Pettie.   

The Preface to the Readers.  
Having (gentle Readers) by reason of a trifling work of mine (which, by reason of the lightness of it, or at least of the keeper of it, flew abroad before I knew of it) already won such fame, as he which fired the Temple of Dianae, I thought it stood me upon, to purchase to myself some better fame by some better work, and to countervail my former Vanity, with some formal gravity. And though I know all fame to be dangerous, for that if it be good, envy followeth it, and if it be ill, shame accompanieth it: yet, seeing report once spread, cannot be revoked, and h●●yng already past the Pikes in a dangerous conflict without wound of ho●● (such was your courtesy) I doubt not now but to escape a few straggling shot in a light skirmish, without so much as bearing the discharge of their Pieces: for the men which will assail me, are in deed rather to be counted friendly foes, then deadly enemies, as those who will neither mislike with me, nor with the matter which I shall present unto them, but tendering, as it were, my credit, think it convenient that such as I am (whose profession should chiefly be arms) should either spend the time in writing of Books, or publish them being written. Those which mislike study or learning in Gentlemen, are some fresh water Soldiers, who think that in war it is the body which only must bear the brunt of all, not knowing that the body is ruled by the mind, and that in all doubtful and dangerous matters, it is the mind only which is the man: but having showed else where how necessary learning i● for Soldiers, I add only, that if we in England shall frame ourselves only for war, if we be not very well Oiled, we shall hardly keep ourselves from rusting, with such long continuance of peace, it hath pleased God to bless us. Those which mislike that a Gentleman should publish the fruits of his learning, are some curious Gentlemen, who think it most commendable in a Gentleman, to cloak his art and skill in every thing, and to seem to do all things of his own mother wit as it were: not considering how we deserve no praise for that, which God or Nature hath bestowed upon us, but only for that, which we purchase by our own industry: and if you shall chance to enter into reasoning with them, they will at the second word make protestation that they are no Scholars: whereas notwithstanding they have spent all their time in study. Why Gentlemen is it a shame to show to be that, which it is a shame not to be? In divers things, nothing so good as Learning. You are desirous to seem to be that, which you are not, and in Learning, the best thing of all others, are you afeard to show to be that, which you are? Alas you will be but ungentle Gentlemen, if you be no Scholars: you will do your Prince but simple service, you will stand your Country but in slender stead, you will bring yourselves but to small preferment, if you be no Scholars. Can you counsel your Prince wisely, foresee dangers providently, govern matters of state discreetly, without Learning? no, experience must then be your guide, which will be but a blind one: it must be your Schoolmaster. but you shall find it a dangerous one. To come lower, can you discourse with Strangers, inquire the state of foreign Countries, give entertainment to Ambassadors, being no Scholars? no surely, unless it be with dumb shows and signs: like as of late a pleasant Gentleman (who could have spoken sufficiently, if he had been put to it) being amongst others commanded to ride to meet an ambassador that was coming to the Court, at his return a Noble man asked him merrily, what he said to the ambassador when he met him: nothing (said he) but kissed my Horse's main, and came my way. To come lowest of all, Can you so much as tell your Misstresse a fine tale, or delight her with pleasant device, being unlearned? no it must needs either be altogether unsavoury, or else seasoned with the salt of others: and whether think you it more shame that you should show to have of your own, or that she should know you filch from others? You know Caesar was a brave Gentleman, but yet he was a Scholar, but yet he wrote Books, but yet he came in print. Marcus Aurelius was an Emperor, but he was learned, and set forth learned works. Therefore (Gentlemen) never deny yourselves to be Scholars, never be ashamed to show your learning, confess it, profess it, embrace it, honour it: for it is it which honoureth you, it is only it which maketh you men, it is only it which maketh you Gentlemen: And mark this when you will, if there be any in any place, which seeketh to come up, or benefit himself by flattery, by bribery, by slavery, by vallanie, I dare warrant you he is altogether unlearned: for having no good parts, no good gifts in him which may prefer him, he flieth to those sinister shifts as his surest stays: whereby you see that it is Learning which accomplisheth a Gentleman, and the want of it which blemisheth him: and that neither comeliness of parsonage, neither gayness of garments, neither any exterior Ornaments are to be compared to the lineaments o● Learning, without which, though a man shake the feather after the best fashion, and take upon him never so bygly▪ he shall never be accounted of amongst the wise, nor never be filled on the role of right and sufficient Gentlemen. And this I hope will satisfy those which mislike that Gentlemen should publish the fruits of their study, especially seeing thereby Learning is advanced, and a great number pleasured and profited: and seeing the only way to win immortality, is either to do things worth the writing, or to write things worthy the reading? And if they object that that seeking of immortality, is a sign of vain glory: to answer them plainly and humanly, I am flat of this mind, that they which pass not of praise, will never do any thing worthy praise. There are some others yet who will set light by my labours, because I writ in English: and those are some nice Travaylours, who return home with such quaesie stomachs, that nothing will downe with them but French, Italian, or Spanish, and though a work be but meanly written in one of those tongues, and finely translated into our Language, yet they will not stick far to prefer the Original before the Translation: the cause is partly, for that they cannot so soon espy faults in a foreign Tongue as in their own, which maketh them think that to be current, which is but course, and partly for that strange things do more delight them, then that which they are daily used to: but they consider not the profit which cometh by reading things in their own Tongue, whereby they shall be able to conceive the matter much sooner, & bear it away far better, then if they read it in a strange Tongue, whereby also they shall be enabled to speak, to discourse, to write, to indite, properly, fitly, finely, and wisely, but the worst is, they think that impossible to be done in our Tongue: for they count it barren, they count it barbarous, they count it unworthy to be accounted of: and, which is worse, as I myself have heard some of them, they report abroad, that our Country is barbarous, our manners rude, and our people uncivil: and when I have stood with them in the comparison between other countries and ours, and pointed with my finger to many gross abuses, used in the places where we have been, when by no reason they have been able to defend them, they have shrunk in their neck, and told me that it was the fashion of the Country: not considering that the manners and fashions of each Country, are the only thing that make it counted barbarous or civil, good or bad. But for our Country, I am persuaded that those which know it, and love it, will report it for the civilest Country in the world: and if it be thought to be otherwise by strangers, the disorders of those travelers abroad are the chief cause of it. And to speak but of the lightest, their envying one another, their depraving one another, their flowing one another, their falling out one with another, their fight one with another in the open street (as with blushing I have often beheld in Paris) their contemning of their Country fashions, their apish imitation of every outlandish Ass in their gestures, behaviour, and apparel, are the only causes that make Strangers count our Country and our people barbarous: for at home it is well known that we live in laws as orderly, in manners as decently, in apparel as co●●ly, in diet as delicately, in lodging as curiously, in buildings as sumptuously, in all things as abundantly, and every way as civilly, as any Nation under Heaven. For the barbarousness of our tongue, I must likewise say that it is much the worse for them, and some such curious f●llowes as they are▪ 〈◊〉 if one 〈◊〉 to derive any word from the Latin, which is insolent to their ears (as perchance they will take that phrase to be) they forthwith make a jest at it, and term it an lukehorne term. And ●●ough for my part I use those words as little as any▪ ●et I know no reason why I should not use them, and I find it a fault in myself that I do not use them: for it is in deed the r●●dy way to enrich our tongue, and make it copious, and it is the way which all tongues have taken to enrich themselves: For take the Latin words from the Spanish tongue, and it shall be as barren as most part of their Country: take them from the Italian, and you take away in a manner the whole tongue: take them from the French, and you mar the grace of it: yea take from the Latin itself the words derived from the Greek, and it shall not be so flowing and flourishing as it is. Wherefore I marvel how our english tongue hath crack it credit, that it may not borrow of the Latin as well as other tongues: and if it have broken, it is but of late, for it is not unknown to all men how many words we have fetched from thence within these few years, which if they should be all counted inkepot terms, I know not how we should speak any thing without blacking our mouths with ink: for what word can be more plain than this word plain, & yet what can come more near to the Latin? What more manifest, then manifest? and yet in a manner Latin: What more common than rare, or less rare than common, and yet both of them coming of the Latin? But you will say, long use hath made these words current: and why may not use do as much for these words which we shall now derive? Why should not we do as much for the posterity, as we have received of the antiquity? and yet if a thing be of itself ill, I see not how the oldness of it can make it good, and if it be of itself good, I see not how the newness of it can make it nought: Whereupon I infer, that those words which yourselves confess by use to be made good, are good the first time they are uttered, and therefore not to be jested at, nor to be misliked. But how hardly soever you deal with your tongue, how barbarous soever you count it, how little soever you esteem it, I durst myself undertake (if I were furnished with Learning otherwise) to write in it as copiously for variety, as compendiously for brevity, ●s choicely for ●oordes as pithily for sentences▪ as pleasantly for figu●●▪ and every way as eloquently, as any writer should do in any vulgar tongue whatsoever. Thus having (as I hope) satisfied my curious enemies, I am to ●craue ●he good will of my courteous friends desiring ●ou (gentle Reader) to accept in good part these my labours, which ●f they shall l●ke you, I shall count my gay●● great if not, yet must I needs count my l●sse but light, in that the doing of it, kept me from idleness a thing so dangerous to young Gentlemen, that I wish you all, above all things to avoid it: And so far you well, from my Lodging near Paul's.  
Yours to employ George Pettie.  
GEntle Readers, I have supplied divers things out of the Italian original, which were left out by the French translator, with what judgement. I refer to your judgement▪ I have included the places within two stars▪ as you may see throughout the Book. I have not published the fourth Book, for that it containeth much trifling matter in it. Farewell.   

The first book of Civil Conversation, by Master Steven Guazzo. Containing in general, the fruits that may be reaped by conversation, and teaching how to know good company from ill.  

poem.  
I Went the last year to Saluce to do my duty to the most famous and excellent Lord jews Gonzaga Duke of Nevers, my old master and friend, being very glad that he was come into Italy, Lieutenant general of the most Christian king Charles the ix. A degree which no doubt was due unto him: for were it so, that he had not heretofore won it by means of his own valour and service done to the king for the space of xxii. years, and namely, the day wherein fight valiantly, being but nineteen. years old, he was taken prisoner at the battle of S. Quintance, yet it might suffice to make him worthy of a charge so great as that, the blood which he hath shed, not eight months since at his return into France amongst the enemies of the Catholic faith, and the wounds which yet at this day put us in some doubt of his life and recovery. Now to return to my purpose, I found there the gentleman my brother William, who seemed to me to be altogether changed (and yet I had seen him not past two years before in France) he was become so weak, lean, and fallen away, by the hard handling of a very long quartan Ague, and of other great distemperatures of his body: which as he bewailed and bewrayed unto me, I could not for my life (seeing him in such piteous case, and hearing him draw out his words so softly and so weakly) keep the tears out of my eyes. For I not only love him as a younger brother, but honour him as if he were the eldest: but that my pity might not make him think worse of himself, I forthwith withstood myself, and with a more courageous countenance, I began to put him in hope that he might recover his health, so soon as he should see his friends and parents, who did earnestly look for him, and so soon as he might have the advice and counsel of some good Physician of that City there. Whither not long after the Duke being come to see the most excellent Princes Leonor of Austria his cozen, & understanding the just desire he had to see again our house, he was content with his departure, & to let him be here for the space of six days. Thereupon we thinking good to assemble the most excellent Physicians of this City, he feeling himself by this time weighed of the purgations he had already taken, and besides the Winter approaching, thought best to defer this cure until the Spring time, what time he hoped to be in Italy, with his masters leave: not only to seek remedy for his sickness, and to preserve himself from greater evil, but also to pass the rest of his life in quietness. While he was in this deliberation, in cometh Master Hannibal Magnoca●alli our neighbour, aswell in house as in heart, who besides the name he hath gotten of an excellent Philosopher and Physician, for the diversity of Arts wherewith he is endued, is counted in the number of those which are called Generals, and by his good behaviour maketh himself so acceptable, that I marvel nothing at all if in so little time which he remained with the Gentleman, he stirred up in his heart by his delightful devise, an extreme desire to enjoy longer time his pleasant company. Neither was master Hannibal less glad to have found my brother according to his mind: Whereupon drawn by a sudden and mutual affection, they gave occasion each to other to visit one another so often as conveniently they might. And so great was the courtesy of the Physician, that not suffering my brother to take the pains to visit him, he came the next day, and found him at the Table, but new dined. After that, withdrawing themselves into a little closet, where I use to have a few small books, rather for a show then for study, they there passed a great part of the day (which they continued the three next days following) with many notable discourses, which my brother to pleasure took recount unto me in the evening following: & for that I thought them so well seasoned, that they might long time be preserved to the profit of posterity, ever since my brother's departure, until this present, I have been gathering together their discourses, which in effect were like to these which follow here.   

Guazzo. Hannibal.  
I Greatly give GOD thanks (Master Annibal) for that having visited me with a long, and perchance a cureless disease, to cleanse my wretched soul of some wicked humour, he ministereth also means unto me, sometimes whereby I may pass away my evil with less annoy, as this day I doubt not but I shall have by means of your acceptable presence, whereof I receive more assistance and contentment than I am able to express.  Annib. 
I have cause (Master Guazzo) to think well of you, for many causes, but chief I feel myself forced thereto, for that I see you take your sickness of the hands of God (most good and full of power, from whom all things proceed) and to show a Christian modesty in laying the fault on yourself: that certes is a thought suitable to the cross you bear on your breast. But I will not héerefore commend you so much, but that I must reprehend you a little (and bear with me if I speak plainly unto you) for that you call this your disease, in a manner cureless, and seem to distrust, that he which hath sent it you cannot likewise rid you of it. Touching the opinion you have of my presence, I will neither blame you nor praise you for it: But you may assure yourself, that in steed of those signs of good will which I cannot show outwardly, I bear you an inward affection in my heart, ready priest to do you service. But I pray you make not strange to let me understand your state, not as a Physician (for that as now would stand you in small steed) but as a friend, from whom you ought not to hide your mishaps.  Guaz. 
My brother hath already promised me of you, all that may be looked for of a skilful Physician, and singular friend. But for that I am to return into Italy, at a season more convenient for the cure of those which are sick, I meant to have stayed till then to open unto you my wounds, and amongst the rest, those of the heart, which I feel oppressed with so great melancholy, that in my fancy, I had good reason to say, that my evil is perhaps incurable, seeing it hath wearied to no purpose almost all the Physicians of Paris and France.  Annib. 
Touching the infirmity of the body, in deed it is requisite of necessity to stay till the Winter be past, to heal it, if urgent necessity constrain you not to use more speedy remedy: but to the malady of the mind, you ought at all times to apply apt remedies, endeavouring so much as you may possibly, to be méerie, & to tread under foot all irksome thoughts which molest you.  Guaz. 
I do verily, as you advise me, willingly employ all the time my bounden service will spare me, & all the leisure I can get, in some honest pleasure: but for all that, I cannot forget nor drive away my troublesome thoughts.  Annib. 
One that is sick, ought chief to consider the things that help him, and the things that hurt him, to the end to eschew the one, and ensue the other. And therefore I should think it good, you should call to your remembrance such things as you have found by long experience to have increased or diminished this your anguish of mind, or melancholy, as you please to term it.  Guaz. 
I remember I have plainly noted, that the company of many is grievous unto me, and that contrariwise, solitariness is a great comfort and ease of my travels. And though for the service of my Prince, I must of force be conversant not only with other Gentlemen his servants, but also in the Cour, to discourse and deal with divers persons of divers countries & nations, yet I do it against the heart, & I go to it as the tortoise to the enchantment: for I feel it a great travel to my mind, to understand other men's talk, to frame fit answers thereto, and to observe such circumstances, as the quality of the persons, and mine own honour require: which is nothing else but pain and subjection. But when I withdraw myself into my lodging either to read or write, or to repose myself: then I recover my liberty, and let loose the rains thereof, in such sort, that having not to yield account of itself to any, it is altogether applied to my pleasure and comfort.  Annib. 
Do you think to recover your health in continuing long that solitary life?  Guaz. 
I dare not say so.  Annib. 
It is now that I begin to fear least this malady be perchance incurable.  Guaz. 
And I now begin to know by your words that you are that plain fellow you told me you were. But if those which should put heart into me, discourage me, how shall I be able to comfort myself?  Annib. 
Go too Gentleman, take heart at grass, for your evil is easy to be cured.  Guaz. 
You have in your hands the weapons of Achilles, with the which you both wound & heal: but it must needs be, that of these two contrary propositions, the one be false.  Annib. 
Both the one and the other is true. For all the Physicians not only of France, but of all Europe no not Esculapius himself, by any medicine, either simple or compound, can without great difficulty, give you the least help in the world, so long as you cease not (as I see you do not) to proceed in your doings contrary to their prescription & mind. On the other side, I can assure you aswell by that you have told me, as by certain signs which I begin to descry in you, that your evil is easy to be cured: for that the medicine is in your own hands, whereby in short time you may be restored to your health. And to speak hereof more plainly, I must needs tell you, that to exempt yourself out of this evil, you must first give yourself to cut of the cause and original thereof.  Guaz. 
How shall I cut it of, if I know it not?  Annib. 
I will let you know it: your evil cometh of the false imagination you have, by means whereof, like unto the fly which flieth about the candle, with pleasure, you purchase your death, and in steed of consuming and starving your evil, you give it nourishment. For thinking to receive solace by means of a solitary life, you fill yourself full of ill humours, which take root in you, and there lie in wait ready to search out secret and solitary places conformable to their nature, & to fly all mirth and company: and as hidden flames by force kept down are most ardent, so these corrupt humours, covertly lurking, with more force consume, and destroy the fair palace of your mind. And therefore I would wish that, leaving that wrong opinion, whereby hitherunto you went about, clean contrary, to redress your evil, you should change your order of proceeding, & to account solitariness for poison, and company, for an Antidote, and the foundation of life: and to frame yourself to cast of solitariness as a concubine, & to take company into your favour, as a lawful spouse.  Guaz. 
Yet I have heard many famous Physicians of this opinion (which experience also showeth) that to have health of body, it is necessary to have contentment of mind.  Annib. 
It is true, now what will you infer of that?  Guaz. 
Marry if that be true, it shall follow likewise, that solitariness is good for the body, because it recreates the mind: what say you now?  Annib. 
I have already showed you, that the pleasure of solitariness (considering your comple●ion) is counterfeit, I now further prove it to you. For the true pleasure (to speak humanly) is that which naturally giveth pleasure to all persons in general. And therefore, though solitariness be agreeable to melancholic persons, yet it is unpleasant to all other, which you shall better understand, if you mark how some women with child long to eat things which all other folk abhor: and yet for all that we must not say that such meats are convenient, for though they please some women, yet commonly they are displeasant to al. And when the melancholic person, & the woman with child shallbe rid, the one of his false imagination, & the other of her altered taste, they will have in hate the things above said.  Guaz. 
You make me now doubt lest I be in worse case than I am aware of: for you mean by your words to include me in the number of the melancholic, which have their wit so breeched, that they cannot discern sweet from sour. But if I flatter not myself, I have a whole mind within my crazy body, and my pleasure is common to other men of good taste: and though company pleaseth some, yet I know many of great valour and deep understanding, which cannot away with company, and love solitariness so well, as fishes do the water: so that either I am beside myself, or else the definition which you have assigned to pleasure is beside the truth: considering that not only conversation, but divers other pleasures, are acceptable to some, & irksome to other some. As it falleth out of games, of feasts, of Music, and other delights, from which a great many men fly, & more willingly lean to grave matters, and these are for the most part men of good calling, & not of the common sort.  Annib. 
God grant that I may never have more occasion to doubt that your brain is distempered, than it ever entered into my thought to say it, & if I should say it, rather I (than you) might be thought scarce well in my wits: your reasons make nothing against the definition which I assigned to pleasure, but rather confirm it. For those which like not of games, music, Feasts, & companies, have either by long study, & great contemplation, or by some other accident, got an habit & custom to be melancholic. And though in the world there be found a greater number of these than of the other, yet in this they make no number, for that in these pleasures before said, they have lost their taste by chance, not by nature, whereas those pleasures do delight naturally. By this same reason we are to set down this other ground, That man, being a compagnable creature, loveth naturally the conversation of other men, and doing the contrary, he doth offend nature herself: for which fault many have done penance. For some by remaining enclosed in these voluntary prisons; become ill favoured, lean, forlorn, & filled full of putrefied blood, by means whereof, their life and manners come to corruption. Insomuch that some take after the nature of savage beasts, some wax couragelesse, & stand in fear of their own shadows. I cease to rehearse unto you what hath happened to divers men, who by living long time in solitariness, have fallen into such vehement and frantic fancies, that they have given occasion to be laughed at, and pitied. Wherefore weighing the things which are to be read in writers concerning those kind of men, and the things which I myself have seen, I think nothing at all strange that which is reported of a poor silly soul, who thinking himself to be transformed into a grain of Millet, for a long time durst not come forth of his chamber, for fear the poultry would eat him up. And as it is not possible without great labour and sleight to take away the false imagination from these kind of Melancholic persons, so there are other sorts of them, that have made themselves away by the means either of water, or fire, or sword, or by throwing themselves headlong from on high, or else at the ending of their days, by their natural death they have given some certain testimony of their folly. Like as the melancholic Athenian did, who no less at his death, then in his life time, refusing the conversation of men, left these verses upon his Tomb.  

Hear do I lie, ne am the same  
I heretofore was wont to be:  
Thou Reeder never ask my name  
A wretched end God send to thee.   Guaz. 
I am satisfied in this point, & I yield unto you, that solitariness is an enemy to health: but I would know on the contrary side, what pleasure I may look for by Conversation, seeing that for one man which I meet with to my mind, I light upon more than a hundred, which either by ignorance, either by pride, either by folly, either by ambition, either by altercation, or by unseemly behaviour, do so vex and trouble me, that my mind and body both receive great hurt thereby.  Hannibal. 
I have no marvel of that, for the number of the insufficient, is far greater than of the accomplished, yet it is your part, so much as you may, to leave those, and lean to these: and seeing our age doth so participate with the quality of iron, that there are not any to be found of the golden world with whom you may be conversant, it is not amiss to call to mind that c●mmon proverb amongst country men, That we must not leave to sow corn for fear lest the birds eat it up: so likewise we must not stick to come forth of our doors, to do our business in dealing with men, for fear of ill company. As if you were bound from Padua to Venice, you will not let slip opportunity, for that you will not embark yourself in a vessel wherein there are sometime men, women, religious, secular, Soldiers, Courtiers, Almans, Frenchmen, Spaniards, jews, and other of divers nations and qualities. And therefore we must force our will, and make it sometime content itself with that it liketh not, whereof followeth a virtue of necessity. Touching this I will tell you, that the place & time have sometime forced me to be present (rather with my body then mind) in the company of those persons, which I could very ill away withal, as being altogether different from my manner of life and profession: from whom nevertheless I could not withdraw myself, lest I should be thought to take upon me, either too much gravity, or too little courtesy. And though at the first I was in my dumps, yet afterward I went away well pleased and joyful: seeing that I had so well framed myself to the humours of others, and that I had got myself honestly away being very well thought of by the company when I was gone: so likewise▪ when you shall be acquainted with the course of the world, and when by long use, you shall be brought to abide the company of such manner of people, you shall perceive, that if it be not good for your health, yet at least it shall not be hurtful.  Guaz. 
I plainly perceive the understanding you have, as well of things belonging to the virtue of the mind, as the health of the body: And for that I love of life to hear such discourses, I should be very glad (if it might so please you) we might enter into argument, which is more available to man's state of solitariness or conversation, for I would be loath you should at any time teach me to take a medicine which might procure health to my body, and sickness to my mind, which I could never find in my heart to do, but had a great deal rather end my days hardly in some desert.  Hannibal. 
There are certain kinds of spectacles which make things show greater than they are: so your courteous good will maketh you go beyond the truth, in the judgement of my knowledge, which cometh nothing near to that you speak of, and yet it is not so little, but it knoweth that the Gentleman which warneth and summoneth me to this combat, is very well appointed of weapons and courage. Yet notwithstanding, without losing any more time in excusing my ignorance, I am ready to hear most willingly whereupon your opinion is grounded, which seemeth to incline to solitariness, to the intent to answer you, not learnedly, but according to the ability of my weak capacity.  Guaz. 
Think not, I beseech you, that I enter into the lists against you, like a subtle Logician, for I never learned the places from whence arguments are drawn, and that which I say, is rather of mine own opinion, then by any judgement or learning: but my desire is to give you occasion to give me some light of knowledge, being willing rather to understand, then to withstand: for when you make answer to my demands, I take so great pleasure in it, that I may say with the Poet Dant.  

Your resolutions, do me content so well,  
That I delight as much to ask, as if myself could tell.   Annib. 
I attribute all that to your courtesy. Now I will tell you touching this matter, that if we will do our diligent endeavour to search out the effects of solitariness and Conversation, how many sorts there are of them, and how they are to be understood, we shall soon be agreed, and we shall not need to employ much time in reasoning of the matter. Whereupon I would have us differ, & a little suspend these several points, and first entreat of this matter in general, that thereby I may have occasion to enjoy longer your delightful and discreet communication. But I will not forget (as one that tendereth your health) to put you in remembrance, that it is not good for your sickly body to occupy your mind over earnestly, in considering the matter over deeply: for oftentimes the desire of gainsaying and to have the upper hand in reasoning, doth inflame, distemper, and destroy the body: And thereof come oftentimes rheums whi●h deceive many Physicians, and make them judge that they proceed of contrary causes. Wherefore I advise you for your health, and mine also, not to be too earnest in this discourse, and so I shall with more ease be able to answer you.  Guaz. 
I am not (sir) any of those vainglorious persons, which contend earnestly▪ to the intent to be counted more brave fellows than other: I will utter plainly those things which I remember to have heard heretofore of the learned, and which shall be put into my head by the spirit of reason, referring afterward the whole to your sound & perfect judgement.  Annib. 
I am very glad our discourses are rather familiar and pleasant, then affected and grave: and I protest for my part, many times (as occasion shall serve) to let you hear proverbs, which very Artificers have in their mouth, and compte, which are used to be ●old by the fire side, both for that I naturally live by such food, and also to give you occasion to do the like, and thereby to have an eye as well to the health of the body, as the mind.  Guaz. 
I promise to imitate you so much as I may, and to fall now to the skirmish: I say first, that to climb to the true service of God, and the enjoying of those heavenly incomprehensible and eternal benefits which he hath promised to his faithful, the deserts, all by places and solitary, are the right ladders. And contrariwise, companies are nought else but hooks and tongues, which withdrawing us by force out of the course of our good thoughts, set us in the way of destruction: for that this life being full of suspicions, deceits, lasciviousness, perjuries, detractions, envy, oppressions, violences, and other innumerable mischiefs, a man can not turn his eyes aside, but that he shallbe forced to behold some evil thing or other, which entereth and insinuateth itself by a broad way unto the heart, where afterward are planted those venomous grafts, which grow to the destruction of the soul. The which never happeneth to the solitary, who being safe from all enticements, intanglinges, and surprises, being altogether out of love with the world, is wholly raised up to the contemplation of his original and happy state. Likewise, whosoever will obtain God's assistance by his prayers, must abandon companies, and withdraw himself to his chamber (for so God expressly commandeth) and therefore it is no marvel if he were so well pleased with the devout works wrought especially in the wilderness by the first fathers, Abraham, Isaac, jacob, Moses, Helias, and jeremy, neither aught the example of our first father to way any lesser with us, who was as happy while he lived in solitariness, as he was after miserable and grief-full when he was in company. I could here rehearse unto you many persons, who knowing that the vanities of the world, & Conversation amongst men, were impediments to the service of God, & their own salvation, have joyfully left their proud Palaces, their great riches, their high degrees, the company of their family, friends, and parents, to cloister up themselves in poor Monasteries, there, to end their life in holiness and patience. But if the examples already recited be of no force with you, look upon the doings of Christ, who being to make his prayers unto GOD his Father, went up to the mountain: being too fast, kept himself solitary, and got into deserts at the death of john Baptist. Now if we will consider, besides the service of God, how much the solitary life availeth to our instruction and happy life, we can not but curse whether it were Saturn or Mercury, or Orphey, or Amphion, or whosoever it were, who gathered & assembled together into one body, the people scattered abroad in Forests and Mountains, where they followed nature in stead of law, not crediting the subtle persuasions of other, but their own guiltless conscience, and leading a loyal, simple, and innocent life, had not yet whetted their tongues to slander their neighbours, gave not their minds to cruelties, neither had infected and corrupted their manners with the contagion of vices, which began to grow hot in the Cities and assemblies of men. And for that cause you see that naturally all persons endued with knowledge and virtue (to avoid the common sort which delighteth in company) withdraw themselves with great pleasure into by-places, and distant from the people, to have leisure for their goodly and laudable contemplations. And if this be true, as no doubt it is, that the Philosophers excel all other men so far as light doth darkness, it is a plain case, that to sail surely in the deep sea of divine Philosophy, we ought to take wary heed to fly, more than Scylla and Cha●ibdis, the Conversation of men, as they did: not only getting themselves out of the press of people, but setting light by, and refusing the government of common weals, and those chief honours and offices which ambitious men go all day long with great labour and are canvasing and craving for. And though it shall seem perchance unto you, that Conversation and company is naturally desired of all men, yet remember yourself of the sentence which once you brought against me, which, if you be an indifferent judge, aught to have place against yourself in the same case: which is, that a man must not make reckoning or account of the multitude of people, which either for the desire of some vain pleasure, or vile gain, or fickle and transitory promotions, are always in company and Conversation: and herein we ought to follow the opinion of the Philosopher, who at his return from the Baths, being asked whether there were in them any great number of men, answered, no: and a little after, as one asked him if there were good store of people, answered, yea. Wherefore you must agree with me, that if Conversation yield pleasure or profit, it is for the most part to the ignorant and careless, to whom solitariness is a kind of torment: for that being alone they are good for nothing but to count the clock, which they think goeth too slowly. Whereupon riseth the saying, That leisure without learning, is a death and sepultary of a live man, which never happeneth to the learned, who then only live, when being sequestered from others (not men if I may lawfully say it) they get themselves into this earthly Paradise of solitariness, where they feed their minds with the most pleasant 
* A pleasant liquor feigned to be the drink of the Gods.  Nectar of learning. Neither is it any thing ridiculous, which Diogenes merrily and mystically did, who going to the church door, as the people went out, thrust into the midst of them, and at length got into the Church, saying, it was the part of such as he was, to be always contrary to the multitude: which was to show, that we ought according to the saying of the Poet, To follow the fewer sort, and not the common crew. And that meant Pythagoras when he said, He kept not to pass by the common way. I could allege unto you many other things in praise of the solitary life, which is by good right & reason singular, for that it is alone the right life acceptable to God, and godly men, a friend to virtue an enemy to vice, the true institution and form of life. So that for my part most commonly I remain solitary, and say always in my heart (as that holy man said) The City is to me a prison, and solitariness a Paradise. But I will here stay to hear your opinion of these my reasons.  Annib. 
You have swerved nothing at all in this discourse from the duty of a perfect Courtier, whose property it is to do all things with careful diligence, and skilful art: marry yet so that the art is hidden, and the whole seemeth to be done by chance, that he may thereby be had in more admiration. And so taking that course, you have here commended solitariness, partly by reasons derived from your own good wit, & partly by the doctirine you have learned of some famous writers, & specially of Petrarch & Vida, of whose name & authority you have made no mention, because you would hide that glorious doctrine, which some that are learned use to discover, in having always in their mouth the name, assoon of some Philosopher, assoon of some Poet, assoon of some Orator. But yet you could not in such sort cover this cunning, but that I perceived it, & was thereby occasioned greatly to commend your discrete judgement. Now for that I am of a contrary opinion to yours, it standeth me upon to answer from point to point, to the reasons which you have brought: whereof the first (if I be not deceived) is grounded upon the service of God & our salvation, whereto in your opinion Conversation is an hindrance: which truly I will not stick to grant you, if you be able to prove me that the service of God is only performed by the means of solitariness. But I am sure you will not deny me, that he hath left us many commandments by his own mouth, for the execution whereof, Conversation is necessary. For you cannot go to visit the sick, to relieve the poor, to correct and admonish your brother, to comfort the afflicted, if you remain always mewed up. And therefore if you will have solitariness serve to appease the wrath of GOD, and to obtain favour at his hands, you should say that it is profitable and necessary only for the time appointed for prayer. But for all that, I will not grant you that it is a matter of necessity, that we should be ever alone when we pray, for where our Lord said we should enter into our chamber to make our prayers, it was spoken only to reprehend hypocrites, which used to kneel praying openly at the ends of streets, & with their solemn and counterfeit devotion, to make the people return to behold them, to admire them, and to repute them for men of a holy life. For we see that GOD hath appointed the Church for Christians to assemble in. And albeit in all places devout and earnest prayers are acceptable unto him, yet we are bound to go seek him in the holy Church ordained to that end: where, either by reason of the most holy Sacraments, which are there often celebrated, either by reason of the devout prayers of others, we are stirred up to prayer with more fervent zeal and affection. Besides, we see that the religious do not make their prayers apart, but by the ordinances of the Church they assemble together in one Choir: where joining their voices together, they make as it were of many minds one only. framing a harmony of divine praises and devout prayers, for the peace of GOD, for the salvation of mankind. And that congregation doth not only call men daily from their worldly works to divine service, but beside, hath great power, and is very acceptable in the sight of God. Whereupon some have said, that it is impossible, the prayers made by many together should not be granted. Neither doth it any thing remove me out of my settled opinion, the example which you propose of many, who of fleshly are become spiritual, of wealthy are willingly entered into misery, and from their stately Palaces, have vowed themselves to beggarly monasteries: for these same though they have the name of solitary, for that they are severed from us in this temporal life, yet they are gathered and assembled together in their Covents, where they not only live and pray together amongst themselves, but also use conversation with us, in preaching, teaching, and doing other things which appertain to the profit of our souls. On the other side, we secular men which have more enticements to do amiss, must consider, that God hath given, is Roses beset with thorns, the sweet with the sour, and hath given us understanding to discern their qualities & difference. And though it were so that (as you say) a man can neither see nor hear the thing, which maketh not the right way to salvation rugged & uneasy, yet for all that, a good Christian ought not to stray out of it, but to have in mind this saying, That every commodity, bringeth with it a discommodity. And when he seethe himself assailed either with the temptation of pleasures, or the vexation of troubles, then is the time to get the garland, by breaking in sunder those hooks, and holdbacks you spoke of but now, for you know we must enter into the kingdom of heaven through tribulations & troubles. And although he do wisely, who, to fly the combat of the flesh against the spirit, retireth into some obscure & solitary place, yet consider the great virtue & singular merit of him, who being placed in the midst of pleasures, forbeareth them, & maketh a conquest of himself: & think also with yourself, how curious these solitary men are of their quiet, who will neither see nor hear the plaints of other, neither are partakers of our loss and hurts, neither are subject to the injuries, the threats, the blows, the persecutions, the outrages, dangers, & ruins, which this poor vale of misery is full of. Neither likewise doth the example of those first fathers make against me, who were not so given to solitariness, but that they had a care over their neighbours, which they manifested by more works than you have need to hear, or I leisure to count. I deny not but Adam was happy, while he lived in solitariness, but for all that, you do not perceive, that God in giving him company, meant also to show unto us, that Conversation liked him well. The last example of Christ contains in it a hidden meaning, different from the doings of men, for in praying, fasting, and mourning in the wilderness, his meaning was, if I be not deceived, to let a Christian know, that to reap the fruits of those labours, it behoveth him to solitary himself from sin: & calling his wandering mind to this reckoning, it behoveth him to keep it solitary from all other thoughts. For if with the sadness of the countenance, the fasting of the body, and the prayers of the mouth, the heart neither prayeth, fasteth, nor mourneth, Christ is not imitated, but it is the act of an hypocrite, who as the Poet saith, covereth his conceits with a contrary cloak. And if besides these works of Christ he had not been conversable, it had not gone well with us: for that disputing, preaching, healing the sick, making the blind to see, raising the dead to life, he was conversant amongst us, the space of so many years, with so many discommodities: and in the end shed his innocent blood for our redemption. Seeing then while he lived amongst us, he left us an example and way, which we ought to use in conversation, in my opinion you were to blame to curse him, who first with so great discretion gathered together the scattered people, which had not (I confess) the knowledge of vices which reign in cities and towns, marry no more had they the knowledge of sciences, of honest and civil behaviour, of friendship, of handicrafts, of woorkemanships, by means whereof they made themselves differ from savage beasts, whom before they did resemble. And therefore it may justly be said, that who so leaveth the civil society to place himself in some solitary desert, taketh as it were the form of a beast, and in a certain manner putteth upon himself a brutish nature. So the common saying is, that there is no other name meet for a solitary person, but either of a beast, or a tyrant. For that he doth violence to beasts, seizing and possessing himself of forests, of tops of mountains, of their dens, caves, and blind abidings: Not seeing that the city and assemblies of people are made to found the temple of justice, and to appoint a law and form to man's life, which before was disordered, & imperfect. You add afterward, that learned men, and those of good wits, make no account but of the solitary life, and you bring forth the philosophers, comtemners of the multitude, and lovers of solitariness. I might here take large scope to make you answer, but using all the briefness I can, I say only, that those excellent men in learning and science love solitary places not by nature, but for lack of their like, with whom they may be conversant: and I grant you that there is nothing more displeasant to the learned, than the company of the ignorant: which falleth out of the great diversity and difference which is between them. But as the learned fly the ignorant, so they willingly seek the company of other that are learned, with whom, stirred by a certain virtuous ambition, they make proof of their knowledge, giving and taking of the fruits which they have gathered with long travail. You can not name me any Philosopher so hard laced, and so rebellious against nature, who, when time and place served, had not conversation either with his scholars to teach, or with other Philosophers to reason, and to hear their reasons, and which was not desirous to have others followers of his doctrine. And therefore the doing of Diogenes, which you have rehearsed, served well to show, that a Philosopher is contrary to the multitude, but not to disallow conversation, which he more accounted of then other Philosophers did. Wherefore I conclude, that if the learned and students love solitariness for lack of their like, yet they naturally love the company of those which are their like: In so much that many of them have travailed far with great labour, to speak with other learned men, whose books they had at home in their houses. And though you allege unto me, of these, which have refused promotions, and public offices, thinking it a thing blameworthy to bring their free mind into bondage, and to entangle it with the affairs of the world, yet there have been other excellent Philosophers, who by their writings (which are yet extant) have reproved the opinion of those aforesaid, and that not without great reason: for giving themselves wholly to the study of the sciences and contemplation, they altogether abandoned those persons, to whom by the Law of nature they were bound to give succour, and considered not that (man being borne not only for himself, but for his Country, parents and friends) he seemeth either too far in love with himself, or too far out of love with others, which followeth not his proper nature to benefit others, being borne thereunto. And therefore this sentence is well worthy to be written in letters of gold, that He utterly seeketh his own shame, who only seeketh his own profit. Now if all the praise of virtue consist in doing, according to the opinion of the Philosophers, whereto serveth this dumb and idle Philosophy, whereof may be said as of faith, that without works it is dead, and profiteth no body, no not so much as to him who hath gotten it? Who can not assure himself to have learned any science, if he make it not known, and if he perceive not that others which are learned allow of it. And thereof cometh the proverb, Between treasure buried under the ground, and wisdom kept hidden in the heart, there is no difference at all. And it may be said that these same men resemble the covetous, which possess treasure, but have it not: and that they are greatly to blame, which knowing how to do well, do it not. For as Music, which is not heard, is not had in estimation: so that Philosopher meriteth no honour, which manifesteth not his knowledge. * Which Socrates knew very well, who, though no way else he had deserved to be counted the wisest man of the world, yet he deserved it only for this, that he was the first which brought moral philosophy down from heaven. For seeing all the Philosophers bend to the contemplation of nature, he not only framed himself to get wisdom, to live well, & to teach other to live, but gave himself altogether to the bringing to perfection this part of Philosophy, which is so profitable and necessary to our common life, and made the world to see the open folly of those, who will rather hide a candle under a bushel, than set it on a Candlestick. Besides you know that these which like not of company, how learned soever they be, take them from their school points, and matters of learning, show themselves so insufficient and such beastly fools that most commonly they give occasion to every man to laugh at them. I have not yet forgotten many gross follies of a Gentleman sometime my Schoolefellowe at Pad. who in learning was not inferior to any scholar in the University, but for the rest, you would have said, that he had been one of these Owls who stand in fear of other birds: in so much that his sottishness moved me to pity him, especially one day, that having occasion to ride by hearing of the sudden death of his father, he bought a pair of Boötes, whereof the one was so strait that it wrong his leg and foot very sore, and the other was a great way to wide: And as we blamed him that he would suffer himself so to be coosened: he answered, That he himself when he bought his Boots found fault that there was such odds between them, but the shoemaker had sworn unto him that the greatest Boot was made of such leather as would shrink in the wearing, and the other, of a hide that would so retch, that in less than two days it would be easier than the other: what say you of this? Do you not think that these men may be called wise by learning, and fools in respect of the common people. Therefore it was rightly said of an ancient Poet, that experience is the father of wisdom, and memory the mother, to show, that it is needful for him which will attain to the knowledge of human things, not only to be provided of books, but beside, to have undoubted experience & practice touching the understanding of things: which being known, aught to be received & kept in mind, thereby to be able afterward to give himself counsel, by the trial himself hath already made, and to guide himself and aid other, by the events he hath before noted to have followed of like causes. And if you will know that this is true, consider that not only in the profession of us Physicians, but in other faculties likewise, speculation without practice is nothing certain. But we give more credit to an argument grounded on things, which we have tried by reason, then in the simple Doctrine of other.  
And you who have eaten much salt out of your own house, are well able to judge how wise and discreet your travail hath made you, and how much you differ from those who never heard the ringing of other bells than these here. And therefore to show the valour and wisdom of great Ulysses, with good reason it was said to his immortal praise, 
That many countries he had seen,  
and in their manners well was seen.   
I think I have sufficiently confuted your reasons, without I should force or strain myself, as I could very well, to make you a more peremptory and weighty answer, which I will leave to do, thinking you are content with this, and that you have spoken of this matter, rather to give me to understand your great wit, then to maintain in good earnest this opinion: For the same which have taught you this false doctrine, have likewise taught you the true, and I am sure you are not ignorant that Petrarch, notwithstanding all the praises he attributeth to the solitary life, was not to learn, that without Conversation our life would be defectuous. For he hath been no such enemy to good company, but that these words have escaped forth of his mouth, 
Had I been with her:   
But that he hath frequented Courts, and entered into amity with many Princes and Gentlemen, I speak not of Hierosme Vida, for that not so much in respect of the works he hath written, being gotten alone by himself, as for the learning he showed by word of mouth in public counsel: and for that he had long time used the Court of Rome, and by his deeds given other good example to do well, he hath gotten not only the mitre, under which he hath a great while governed the flock committed unto him, but beside, hath won the credit of a Prelate worthy of a higher degree. Moreover, that he exalteth the solitary life, to the intent to show his great wit, in debasing it afterwards with divers and invincible reasons: amongst the which he affirmeth that all beasts so soon as they are delivered from their dam get upon their feet, and are able to stand a high alone, which nature would not grant to man, who, so soon as he is borne, needeth the assistance and support of others. If that reason be not sufficient, he addeth, that the same nature hath given speech to man, not to the end to speak to himself, which were to no purpose, but to the end it might stand in steed towards other. And you see that the tongue serveth us to teach, to demand, to confer, to traffic, to counsel, to correct, to dispute, to judge, and to express the affection of our heart: means whereby men come to love one another, and to link themselves together. And he concludeth at the end, that a man can not attain to any science, if it be not taught him by some other. You see then (Gentleman) that conversation is not only profitable, but moreover necessary to the perfection of man, who must confess that he is like the be which cannot live alone. And therefore according to the grave opinion of the stoics, we must think that as all things upon the earth are made for the use of man, so man is created for the use of man, to the intent that following nature as their guide and Mistress, they have to secure one another, to communicate together common profits, in giving and receiving, uniting and binding themselves together by arts, occupations, and faculties: so that he may repute himself an unfortunate man, which hath not the means by conversation to purchase his own profit and other men's: a punishment inflicted by the laws on some offenders for a kind of torment. For there is no greater affliction then to live amongst men, and to be deprived of the aid and company of men. And to end my talk, there is here on earth no pleasure to be received without company, which made Architas Tarentinus to say that if any might by God's permission ascend to heaven, and there behold the nature of the world, and the beauty of the stars, that sight would be no great delight unto him, if he had not some or other to whom he might impart it and tell what he saw. * You may perceive then hereby, that neither air, fire, nor water, afford us more aid in all our needs then conversation doth. But if perchance all these things be not sufficient to prove this matter unto you, I am ready to bring you (touching this) many other reasons, so substantial as these already rehearsed.  Guaz. 
I am forced to say with the Poet.  

Neither yea neither nay, can I resolve flatly to say:   
For notwithstanding I feel myself greafly comforted with your gentle discourse, yet there stick in my stomach some doubts, which make me say unto you, that as the stepmother by extreme hatred discerneth not the virtues of her son in law, & the mother by excessive love on the contrary side knoweth not the imperfections of her own son so you likewise show yourself to be surprised with the same passions, to find fault with solitariness, & commend conversation, for so much as you have not told the good which 〈◊〉 of the solitary life, nor the evil which cometh of conversation. Wherefore to manifest and discover that which you keep secret, I say unto you, that my meaning was not to defend and commend those persons, who, moved either by some sudden toy which taketh them in the head or of some melancholy humour, rather than of any good mind, do altogether withdraw themselves into solitary places, and take no keep to know what we do in the world: but I amount them for dead, or at least for men which are good neither for themselves nor other: and being not willing to put in practise their virtue to their own profit, nor to teach it to others which stand in need of it, I use to compare them to the Fox, who had rather 〈◊〉 and break his tail against the ground to 〈◊〉 profit, then to give a little of it to the Ape to cover his privy parts. Likewise I never meant to deny, but that in haunting the company of men, a man may do works acceptable to GOD: my opinion was, and is yet, that to the perfection of man (which if I be not deceived consisteth chief in knowledge) solitariness is more available than conversation. And for proof thereof, you see how those which busy themselves in the affairs of the world, are for the most part without learning, and contrariwise, those which covet to get learning, seek it not in public places amongst a multitude of men, but in their studies & privy Chambers. Neither is it to purpose to say, that some learned, wax sots and fools in company, for that this foolishness is esteemed to be so, only by the vulgar sort, who, seeing them unskilful how to make courtesy after the new fashion, how to set the cap aside; how to dance in measure, and keep time with the music, and how to stout another finely, according to the common fashion, laugheth them to scorn and maketh small reckoning of them: But for all that, they are favoured and honoured amongst other learned men, who take for plainness of manners and gentleness of mind, that which the common so●te calleth foolishness. Now let us turn the leaf, I pray you, and set one of these scoffers in the midst of a compa●● of learned men, and you shall see him straightway, either to be stroke dumb to his shame, or else to speak to his dishonour: like as he, who being by chance amongst certain learned men, which reasoned of the excellency of Poets, pricked forward by his own ambitious ignorance, interrupted their talk, saying, that without any more contention, Horace was to be preferred before all other Poets: for that Petrarch was of that opinion, and had already preferred him before Homer and Virgil: and being required to bring forth that opinion of Petrarch, he answered forthwith, 
If Virgil and Homer had seen,  
Horace alone 'gainst all Tuscan:   
Whereupon they fell to laughing more heartily, than the scholars your friends did for the jest of the boots: and the laughter begun afresh after, when being required to show the meaning of Petrarch in those verses, he added, that he meant to say that neither Virgil nor Homer, nor all the Poets of Tuscan were able to encounter Horace alone. Now if the scholar fell into a certain tolerable lightness of belief, this fellow stumbled upon a corrupt persuasion in opinion. Whereby I am induced to think that learning without experience is more certain, than experience without learning, and I had rather have the name of a simple scholar, then of an ignorant Courtier. Whereupon I will infer, that whosoever will attain knowledge, and sound the depth of it, must (as the artificers say) see to the shop, and not walk the streets all the day long, and brave it out before the people. But put the case that many commendable effects come of conversation, yet put the discommendable in balance against them, and they will overway them a great deal. For that the number of the good is so small and scant, that though you be never so well given, you cannot continue so, but you shallbe driven to change, and to think with yourself that he which sleepeth with the dogs, must rise with the fleas. And hereof the Crerensians being assured, when they wished ill to any, they forspake him that he should take delight in haunting ill company, meaning, that thereby he should come to confusion. Besides that we are now grown to this point that you can not behave yourself so well, but that you shall receive thousand injuries, if not in life (which is not itself very safely warranted) yet at least in good name. And at this day the malice of men is so great, that they spare not the honour of whosoever it be, whether Prince or private person, and think smisterly and preposterously of all the good deeds which are wrought: in such sort that if you addict yourself to devotion, and the exercise of charity, you are taken for an hypocrite. If you be affable and courteous, you shallbe called a flatterer. If you secure any desolate widow, you shall by and by hear a voice which saith: I know what followeth. If through héedlesnesse you resolute not a friend, he will speak no more to you. If you defend one that is oppressed, take heed you be not taken out of your house at undue tyme. Think not to be spared for that you make not profession of a soldier: for now they will not stick to beat even doctors and advocates, to hinder them from defending their clients. But to what end go I to lose myself in the intricate labyrinth of the abuses & disorders of our time. I will get out presently, & persuade myself, that vices should be banished out of the world, if conversation were taken out of it: seeing that adulteries, robberies, violences, blasphemies, murders, and infinite other evils, are learned by the conversation of men, and by means of the same are committed.  Annib. 
You made a show at the beginning to yield unto me, and yet nevertheless are risen against me with a second assault. But notwithstanding I will not cease to assay with other answers, to set an end (if it be possible) to our controversy. And for that you ground learning upon solitariness, I must first ask you, of whom the principles of sciences and learning are for the most part learned?  Guaz. 
Of Masters.  Annib. 
You shall be then taken in your own net, seeing by these words you grant unto me, that the beginning and end of learning dependeth of conversation. And verily as the armourer can not assure himself of the goodness of a corselet, until such time as he hath seen it proved with the lance or harquebus: so neither can a learned man assure himself of his learning, until he meet with other learned men, and by discoursing and reasoning with them, be acertained of his sufficiency. Whereby it seemeth to me very clear, that conversation is the beginning and end of knowledge. But for that you add, that men conversant in the Court and common wealth are void of learning, I must put you in mind touching the point, that as there are divers sciences, arts, & professions, so likewise is the life of men divers, who as it pleaseth god, are called some to merchandise, some to warfare, some to physic, some to the laws. And for that all these tend to one end, to get by these means honour and profit, you see that every one of these divideth his life into two parts: the one, to learn those things which may serve to lead him to the end I have spoken of the other, to put them in practice. And for example, you have already purposed with yourself to be Secretary to a Prince, I am not ignorant, that by reason of the good parts which are in you, you are to look for reputation and commodity thereby, and to bethink you of the good hap of those, who from that degree have been raised to Cardinals and Vicars of Christ. And therefore to make yourself fit for that office, you have learned the Latin and Tuscan tongue, and so many arts as are necessary for that purpose: and by your perfect style in writing, & great discretion in handling matters, you have won the report and name of an excellent Secretary. All other men do the like, amongst whom there are some, who giving their minds either to husbandry, or to merchandise, care for no more learning, but to read, write, and cast a count. And albeit amongst learned men, these same are not able to discourse of Rhetoric or of Poetry, yet are they not therefore to be blamed, neither may we say they are bereaved the knowledge of good letters by reason of conversation, for that from the keginning of their life they have determined not to meddle with study, and it sufficeth them to be esteemed wise, and well seen in their own profession. But a scholar is well worthy to be laughed at, and reproved, who applying himself altogether to study, doth not frame his learning to the common life, but showeth himself altogether ignorant of the affairs of the world. And I will say unto you moreover, that it were a great error to believe, that learning is more gotten in solitariness amongst Books, then in the company of learned men. For this is a maxim in Philosophy, and experience showeth it, That learning is easilier gotten by the ears then by the eyes: neither should a man need to dim his sight, and wear his fingers in turning over the books of writers, if he might always see them present, and receive by hearing that natural voice, which by wonderful force imprinteth itself in the mind. Besides that, if you chance to read some hard and obscure place, you can not entreat the book to expound it unto you, but you shallbe fayne sometime to go your way from it uncontented, saying, If thou wilt not be understood, I will not understand thee. Whereby you may know that it is much better to talk with the living, than with the dead. Again I note this, that the spirit of a solitary man waxeth dull & lither, having none to stir it up & awake it in demanding some question touching his learning, and in reasoning upon it: or else he waxeth haughty & proud by vain belief, for not comparing any with himself, he attributeth too much to himself. On the contrary side, he which heareth other to commend his studies, hath them in more admiration: he which is reprehended, amendeth his faults: he which is any thing negligent, is pricked forward by his corrivals which seek to outgo him in glory. And as he thinketh it a great shame to come behind his equals, so doth he count it a great honour to be able to go before his betters. But above all other things the commendable controversies which arise amongst learned men have most force to quicken the spirits. For by disputing they learn, & that which they learn in that manner, they understand best, they expound best, and remember best. And while they dispute by lively reasons, endeavouring to get the upper hand each of other, the perfect knowledge of things is come by, & thereupon it is commonly said that Disputation is the sifter out of the truth. And for so much as the truth is taken from the common consent & opinions of men, those opinions can not be known but by conversation and company, which the Poets meant to show and infer, reporting that though jupiter was God omnipotent, yet he called the other gods to counsel, and heard their opinions. But let us set fables aside, do we not know that the weighty & wonderful institutions of the holy church proceed not from the Pope only, but from the holy general counsels where they have been discreetly weighed, & allowed? Besides, is it not the fashion of all princes, where there is question of the affairs of their estates, because they will do nothing of their own heads, to assemble their counsellors, & to determine matters according to their advise? Commonweals, Cities, yea small towns, do they not assemble together to choose officers, & to establish orders by common consent? Is it not the use of Magistrates to take the common advise and opinion of their assistentes, and we physicians do we not the like in our assemblies & Colleges, wherein we take resolution touching the healing of the sick, by the advise and judgement of the greater part? Did not Apelles take delight to set his pictures abroad, & to throud himself secretly near unto them, to hear the opinion of the beholders, & when many were of one mind in reprehending some part, did not he mend it according to the common voices and opinions? * And did not another painter say, that the people was the master of whom he had learned his art? * And lastly, was it not the use of a wise Emperor (whose name I now remember not) to send spies abroad every day, to hearken what was said of him, altering sometimes upon that occasion his manner of dealings, and reforming his life from good to better, according to the reports were made unto him? verily, he hazardeth too much, who reposeth himself in his own judgement. And it is a common saying, that he doth well, which counseleth himself well: For which cause counsel is esteemed for a holy thing. I am not able sufficiently to express the great good, which cometh of conversation, & of the knowledge which entereth in by the ears & sinketh into the mind, coming from the mouth of learned men. But I will tell & remember you of the honourable Academies, or Universities, which for that purpose have been instituted in many cities of jaly, amongst which we must not forget to speak of that in Mantua, founded in the house of the most famous Lord Caesar Genzaga, a mighty prince, and a special patron of learned men: neither that in Pavia, which flourisheth prosperously, by reason of the great number of students. But perchance it is a thing to be marveled at, that in that little city of Casal the Academy of the Illustrati maketh so gallant a show. But for that the time serveth not to speak of the excellency thereof, to return to the matter in question, I say, that the fruit which is gathered by these Academies, is inestimable, and that they know well what they do, which have any doings in them. For knowing that one alone cannot of himself attain to many sciences, for that an art is long, and life is short, there they may obtain whatsoever they desire. For some discoursing of divinity, some of humanity, some of Philosophy, some of Poetry, and other divers matters, they partake mutually & in common, of that which every one privately with great pain & long study hath learned: by the example of those, who being not able to live of themselves, & make good cheer at their table, meet together with other of their neighbours in one place, & bring every one their cates with them, and thereof make a suptuous feast. And therefore it hath been very profondly said, that man is a god unto man, for that one receiveth so great pleasure and comfort of another. Which self thing is represented unto us by the picture of the blind man, carrying upon his back the lame créeple, who teacheth him the way: and thereupon well saith, Almanni.  

So of two halves the whole is fitly made,  
the one with eyes, the other with feet doth aid.   
I say then again, that conversation is the full perfection of learning, and that it more availeth a student to discourse one hour with his like, then to study a whole day by himself in his study. Yea and in conferring with his companions, if he have understood any thing amiss, he thereby most commonly cometh to the right meaning of the matter, & cleareth his mind of many errors, * and beginneth to perceive that the judgement of one alone may be easily darkened with the veil of ignorance, or of some passion, and that amongst a multitude, it seldom falleth out that all are blinded: and finally, upon proof he knoweth that virtue & knowledge set forth in books, is nought else then a painted virtue: and that true virtue and learning, is gotten rather by practice then by reading. * But it is now time to answer you, touching the inconveniences which are incurred (as you say) by conversation, which make us turn out of the right way, & alter our good purposes, by accompanying with men of lewd behaviour. And though in my fancy you might satisfy yourself with some reasons already alleged, yet I will say further that it is true, that as some diseases of the body are infectious, so the vices of the mind take from one to another, so that a drunkard draweth his companions to love wine, a Carpet knight corrupteth & effeminateth a valiant man: & so much force hath continual conversation, that oft times against our wills, we imitate the vices of others. Thereupon it is said, that the friends and familiars of Aristotle had learned to stammer: the friends of Alexander in discoursing, had got his roughness of speech: and doubt not, but in haunting the company of the evil, a man shall find by experience that a man is a wolf to a man, not a God as I said before, & that according to the proverb, A friend of fools will become like unto them, * & he which toucheth pitch shallbe defiled therewith. * But in like case also, & by the same reason on the contrary side, virtue bringeth forth the like effect. * And as a dead coal, laid to a lively, kindleth: so a naughty person meeting in company with the good, partaketh with their conditions. * Neither is a good air & a man's own native soil more helpful to the health of the body, than the conversation & company of the good is to diseased minds. For if the ill leave some seed of their naughtiness with those that cleave to them, by the same reason the good leave behind of their goodness, with those that frequent them. And as from musk there cometh a sweet smell to delight the nose, so from the good there goeth a certain goodness towards those that are near them, & most commonly keepeth itself still within them. Now for that the ground of your reasons is, for that in conversation a man cannot do so good works, but that they shallbe taken against the hear, & wrongly interpreted, adding the dangers, hurts, & damages whereto they are subject, which use company: I grant here unto you, that the good order and manner of living, is in a manner quite lost, but the fault & perverseness of other, should never make you repent yourself of doing well: and let speak who list, never take care of the censures and reprehensions which come from the blind communality, which as ignorant, taketh every thing arsy-varsy. But you ought to follow the allowable sentence of the Epicure, when he saith, I never coveted to please the people, for that they esteem not the things, which I know, & for that I know not the things which they esteem & commend. Besides, you must consider whether being withdrawn from company, and leading a solitary life, you shall live in security, and be exempt from the injuries of the wicked. Nay look not for it hardly, and assure yourself, that for one ill word received in company, you shall receive a thousand living solitarily. For some one will not stick to say (and perchance with some little likelihood) that you have about you some filthy disease, or that you have committed some offence, and that you fly the light like a réeremouse: others will say, that you are an heretic, for that you eschew the company of Christians, and they will seek to put you into the Inquisition: others will call you an Alchemist, or a forger of money: and if all these suspicions aforesaid fail, yet at least you shall be thought either faint hearted, either stately, either fantastical, either melancholic, or else a bruit beast: for that all these most commonly fly the company of men. So that by that mean you shall find yourself to be fallen (as the common proverb is) Out of the frying pan into the fire, or out of a fever into the hot evil▪ & you shall be feign in the end to return to the ordinary life, being resolved to thrust yourself forward, and to live uprightly and well in spite of those that live ill: whose naughtiness set against your virtue and goodness, will make it more excellent and famous, and you shall rejoice more to yourself, to see that your virtue hath won the victory in the combat & opposition, you persisting in your goodness in the midst of their naughtiness. You must consider it deserveth no great praise nor merit, to know how to be good amongst the good, Marry it is somewhat worth to be good amongst the ill. Also you must think, that amongst those false consterers, there will be some upright judge & defender of your deeds. And though all the men of the world should fail you, yet the high judgement of God will not fail you; in whom if you shall once repose your trust, you may be sure he will hold his hand over you, and defend you against the malicious and slanderous, and in spite of them will bring the truth to light, and give it the upper hand. As I think I have fully answered you, and therefore without any farther speech, you may know that to get wisdom to come by ●he accomplishment of learning & to come to dignity, riches, & worldly promotions, Conversation is expedient. For to say, that every man should have an eye only to his own affairs, is nothing else, but to make man like to beasts. And beside, it is most certain, that solitariness putteth many evil things into our heads, and maketh us believe that which is not. Neither hath it any thing in it but horror and terror, enemies to nature. According whereto, it is daily seen that a man being by himself is fearful, and being in company, is courageous. * Yea, & being alone, is often tempted to commit many evils. Which, one Crates rightly signified, who seeing a young man walk in a secret place, asked him what he did there so alone: the young man answered, that he talked with himself: I pray you (saith he) take heed you talk not with some naughty fellow. What shall I say more? But that the herb Helleborum may be given as well to the solitary, as to the fool. And whosoever shall mark these reasons, and specially the Etymology of this word Homo, (which in the Greek tongue as some learned writers think) signifieth (together) shall perceive, that a man can not be a right man without Conversation. For he that useth not company hath no experience, he that hath no experience, hath no judgement, & he that hath no judgement, is no better than a beast.  Guaz. 
I think the North-east wind doth not so drive in sunder the clouds in the sky, as you, clearing altogether my mind, have now driven away the mists which dimmed it, & made it so wandering & running, for the love it had to solitariness. I perceive the conclusion of your gentle discourse seemeth to be, that solitariness ought to be taken altogether out of the world, & company & conversation to be chosen, as well for the health of the mind as the body. And yet for all that, I see not how that may be granted unto you, for that there are some times wherein solitariness is not only available, but necessary, both to the inward and outward welfare and prosperous state of life, so that I think it meet to make some mention hereof.  Annib. 
Do you not remember that I told you at the beginning of our talk, that to make evident the matter which hangeth doubtful between us, and to resolve ourselves thoroughly of it, we must come to distinguish of solitariness and Conversation.  Guaz. 
It is very true.  Annib. 
It is for that I would tell you now, that henceforward it was time to leave our general discourse, & come to the particularities which we have already proposed, that there may no confusion remain between us. I then confess unto you, the solitariness is not altogether to be blamed or banished, & that it is at some time (as you say) profitable & necessary. And therefore we must first understand, that a man sometime hath company being by himself and in solitariness, and sometime is solitary being in company or Conversation.  Guaz. 
Pardon me if I interrupt you, these speeches & distinctions seem to me to be riddles, therefore you must serve me in steed of Aedipus, to read them.  Annib. 
I will explain them to you, & first I say, there is one sort of solitariness so rare & perfect, that it is always without company & conversation, not at certain times: * whereinto it pleaseth some devout men to enter, where being dead altogether to the world, choosing the best part & living alone (if they may be said to be alone which be with God) they end their days most pleasantly, in a life most unpleasant. * And this can no man attain unto, without the special gift of god, & who that otherwise hazardeth to enter into it, exposeth himself to a great danger touching his own safeguard, & hath no respect to this sentence, Woe be to the lone man, who when he shallbe fallen down, shall have none to help him up. I will make no larger speech of this high kind of solitariness, referring myself to the long discourses which the divines make of it, but descending to that less perfect solitariness, which is deprived of Conversation but for a certain time. I find thereof three kinds, to wit, solitariness of time, of place, & of the mind. Solitariness of time, is the stillness of the night, or the instant wherein one speaketh alone in the presence of many: and this solitariness is (as you may judge) no les profitable than necessary to all sorts of persons, by reason of the things which are learned by word of mouth, as well of readers as of Preachers, and it is (as I said before) of greater force and efficacy than the books and writings of Authors. Next, solitariness of place, is the chamber or private dwelling which every one chooseth of purpose to sequester himself from the company and conversation of others. Here we have to consider that men settle themselves in this solitariness of place for divers respects, some to the intent to raise their thoughts from worldly vanities to the contemplation of God and his wonderful works, to the end to join themselves to him with incredible joy and health of soul, * and to comprehend that in mind which they cannot see with eye: * some to get with study & speculation the fruit of learning, some to discourse with themselves public or private affairs. All these solitarinesses of place taken & used in due season, have great force to stir up the spirits, & to prepare them a more easy and sure address to the works and actions belonging to conversation. * And if we consider diligently the fable of Prometheus, jupiters' Ambassador upon the Mount Caucasus, & his heart torn by the Eagle, we shall find that by the Mount is figured unto us solitariness, & by the Eagle contemplation, which woundeth the heart, & preyeth upon it. Neither is any thing else meant by the conjunction of the Moon with Endymion, but that he spent many nights in the contemplation of heavenly things, whereby he gathered the fruit of Astrology. And the shoulders of Atlas wherewith he stayed up heaven, represent unto us nothing else but the knowledge which he had of the superior world by means of contemplation: * but these same notwithstanding they are solitary in respect of the place where they remain alone, yet they are in company in respect of the diversity of things which they ponder in their mind. And thereupon Scipio said, that he was never less alone, then when he was alone, for that being gotten by himself into some solitary place, he discoursed many things in his mind, pertaining to the increase of his honour. But I must tell you, that as this solitariness is profitable and necessary for the disposition of the mind, so very often is it hurtful to the health of the body: and it is therefore I told you at the beginning of our talk, that you ought to avoid it. For the finer wit a man is of, the more he beateth it (being alone) about nice and intricate points, whereby his body may be brought into divers dangerous diseases. Neither for all this will I affirm that this solitariness of place is chosen of all, to bestow themselves in laudable studies, and commendable speculations, for that there are some who having in their hands all day long books full of naughtiness & lewd examples, root and enure themselves in this doctrine, and make an ordinary practice of it: insomuch that these ill disposed persons may well say that they have learned more naughtiness being by themselves, than they should have done being always in company in public and frequented places: but God be praised, and the providence of our ancestors, who have justly condemned to the fire, all such works, so soon as they are published, as instruments to all lewd and naughty purposes. I must also tell you, that there are some choose solitariness through laziness of mind, and laziness of body, to the intent to rid their hands of the traveles, affairs, and works which they ought to undertake for their own behoof and other men's. And these lurk loytringly plunged in delicacies, wherein they conserve themselves, not as Musk in a box, but as Swine in the mire. So that it may be said, that their soul is given to their body in stead of salt, lest they should smell. I have known some of these idle merchants to withdraw themselves from company most part of the day, taking pleasure to do nothing, unless it were to press down their beds with the poise of their unwieldy bodies: and yet (such is their impudency) they will make men believe that they have employed all the time in reading some good thing or other. I never behold these fellows, but that I excuse and hold well with the Emperor Domitian, who taking. delight to thrust thorough flies with the point of his dagger, did at least some exercise, and liked better to take pains to kill flies, then to suffer his mind to be corrupted with idleness. And if notwithstanding he were to be blamed for this, it was not so much for the trifling exercise, as for that he left undone weighty matters agreeable to his greatness, & available to the conservation of his Empire. * And hereof we have to conclude, that even as he which abandoneth the active life, to embrace the contemplative, meriteth praise: so he, which being in the active life refuseth company, not upon any honest occasion, but either for the hate he beareth to men, either through lazy slothfulness, either through distrust in himself, or for some other defect, shrinketh aside into solitariness is greatly to be reprehended. * But there is enough said touching solitariness of place, it remaineth now to speak of solitariness of mind, which is, when one is present in person amongst many others, and yet is absent in mind & thought. Like as a Philosopher was, to whom a babbling fool, after a long and wearisome discourse, said, Sir, perchance I trouble you with to much talk: no verily, not a whit (saith he) for that I gave no ear to you.  Guaz. 
I know in deed many which have the skill with the eyes, countenance, gesture, and other outward signs, to make men think they are very attentive to their talk, and yet have their minds turned an other way, so that in one instant, they are both present and absent, contenting both themselves and other.  Annib. 
Albeit this discretion is common to many good wits, yet I remember that it is specially attributed to Madam Marguerite Stanga, and that this solitariness hath been figured forth by a pleasant witted Gentleman in her person, who for the majesty of her looks, for the excellency of her grace, beauty, virtue, behaviour, and manners, is beheld of other dames of this City, if not with envy, at least with admiration. And although in company she showeth herself to be present with countenance, laughing & speaking, yet by the outward shining of her eyes, bewraying her inward affection (as it were by shining of the crystal which showeth forth whatsoever is contained in it) it is seen that her gallant mind separated from mortal things, remaineth enclosed in herself, to the intent to exercise herself in more worthy and commendable cogitations: taking from the world all occasion of conceiving any hope to win her to vanity, & upon the occasion the gentleman aforesaid deviseth of her these verses following.  

While that these cheerful eyes  
fed on the wished sight,  
Of your fair sweet and heavenly face  
Behold my heavy sprite:  
Soon saw your thoughts to serve  
from mine whereby I say,  
At once you give my eyes great life  
and quite my heart do slay.   
But returning to the solitariness of the mind, I would have a wise man enter into it when he is in the company of the evil: from hearing whose talk he ought to stop his ears, as Ulysses did against the song of the Mermaids * and to walk amongst them (as the saying is) should amongst the thorns. * And as we lef not to take a journey for a little rain or snow, but make provision so well as we may for apparel to defend us against the ill weather, so we must not foreslow the pilgrimage of the ordinary life, for the hindrance of the naughty, but arm ourselves with an invincible mind against the evil dispositions of other, whereunto we ought not any thing at all to yield. And for that I told you I would make mention likewise of Diogenes, I will declare unto you the witty answers which he made touching this purpose: amongst others, as one reproved him for that he used the company of lewd and naughty persons, The Sun (saith he) shineth and spreadeth it beams on unclean places, and yet never defileth itself. And as another reproached him for the like, he answered, The Physicians are all day with the sick, and yet are not infected: and in truth ill conditions take no hold of an honest mind, and a virtuous man waxeth not worse for being in company with the wicked * who have no power over him. For that in vain (as the Proverb saith) The net is pitched in the sight of the birds * in so much that being amongst them, he maketh account he is not there, according to the saying of the Gentleman, to whom as Esope telleth, being in his study, there came a country fellow, who asked him how he could live so alone? To whom he answered, I began to be alone, but even since your coming hither: Meaning to show that a learned man is then alone, when he is amongst the ignorant, from whom he is divided in mind. But it is now time to leave speaking of this matter, for that you understand what manner of solitariness is profitable and necessary, and in what manner it is sometimes to be used in company.  Guaz. 
I am satisfied in that point, but I would gladly have you bring to a perfect end this imperfect discourse: for it is not enough to have made me know the conversation is profitable, if you go not farther, and show me what kind of conversation is necessary for the obtaining of those commodities you have rehearsed.  Annib. 
You say very true, but nevertheless when we shall have spoken of the nature and quality of conversation, yet our discourses; being linked together, shall not be thereby finished, for we must entreat afterwards of the general points which all men ought to observe in conversation. And that being done, yet shall not the work be finished, for as we apply na● one medicine to all griefs of the eyes, so we must not use conversation with every one in one self sort: And therefore we must afterwards handle the particular kinds which pertain to all sorts of people.  
Wherefore if you will have me distinguish piecemeal, the plant, the stem, the boughs, the leaves, the blossoms, and the fruits, from the roots of this tree, I leave to your consideration if this may be done in one day.  Guaz. 
For that this is a profitable and pleasant matter, I beseech you that in these three days which I have to stay here with you, we may employ herein that little leisure which shallbe left you from practising on your patients: and that you will show unto me all those things which belong to conversation, to the end, that coming in company with any, of what calling and condition soever, I may be sure to omit nothing which I ought to perform.  Annib. 
I cannot thoroughly satisfy your desire, for many causes: and first, for that to search out all the particular points of conversation, were a matter, if not impossible, yet at least that would require many months work: beside, we must consider that (as the Philosophers say) there can be no certain and determinate science, from particular to particular. Then the particularities of conversation being known for the most part to men of mean understanding, I should do you wrong, & should think myself to speak superfluously (yea, even when I should speak to those ignorant and unskilful fellows) if I should entreat of things so ordinary and common. And therefore it shall suffice us to entreat of those things which are principally required in conversation, wherewith perchance we shall have occasion to mingle & join so many other bymatters, that I doubt not but you shall rest satisfied.  Guaz. 
verily, I see by this time that as well for the diversity of matters which occur in conversation, as for the difference of the life & manners of men, with whom we are conversant, you shall take upon you a travel & charge far greater than the twelve labours of Hercules, thoroughly to entreat of it. For considering that people differ one from another in degree, in age, in kind, in life, in manners, and in profession, it were a hard & tedious piece of work to set down fully and absolutely the proper duties of every one of these, and of whosoever shall frequent their company. And I am of opinion, that when one shall have prescribed a certain form of conversation to all those, yet he shall not then have done, for that there must be respect has not only to the difference which is between one kind and another, but to that also which is between persons of one only kind: for not only young men differ in behaviour from old, and Gentlemen from Yeomen: but even young men amongst themselves differ, as also one old man differeth in behaviour from another old man, and one Gentleman from another Gentleman.  Annib. 
Seeing that these differences fall out in all kinds, I will briefly set forth certain general and most needful means, whereby all of them may be reduced to one law: Touching the form afterward required in conversation, with persons different in state and condition, whom we have already named, to the end you be not deceived, you shall understand, my meaning is not to discourse formally of their duty, neither to lay before you all those moral virtues which pertain to the perfection and happy state of life.  Guaz. 
Why defer you to speak of a matter so profitable.  Annib. 
Two special causes withhold me: the one, for that I know that not only the Greeks & Latins, but also all other nations have filled the world with divers volumes full of precepts of Philosophy.  Guaz. 
The more books of Philosophy we have at this day, the fewer Philosophers we have but tell me if it please you, the other cause.  Annib. 
The other is, that if I should make a full & perfect discourse of Moral Philosophy, it would stand none in steed, but such as are of deep understanding, as you are, but minding to speak in particular, of the manners of conversation meet for all sorts of people, it behoveth me to have an eye to the common profit, weighing that the most part of men, is not only destitute of intellectual and moral virtues, but beside, is neither in wit apt, nor in will desirous to receive them, so that it were a vain thing (that I may not say foolish) to go about to teach by▪ Art, and improper terms, theforesaide virtues to such kind of people,  Guaz. 
I hold well with that you have said, and for that perchance the time approacheth, that you are to visit your patientes, it shall do well here to make a pause, and to morrow if it please you, we will take again our matter in hand, either here, or at your house at your choice.  Annib. 
If it shall not trouble you, I can stay here with you a little while longer, and we can choose no fit place for our purpose then this same, which with the goodly sight of diverse pleasant pictures (wherewith it is adorned) doth marvelously recreate or minds, and ministereth occasion of witty talk.  Guaz. 
Go forward (I pray you) hardly so far as it shall please you, for I assure you I never heard more delightful harmony than this same.  Annib. 
For so much then as your question was what manner of conversation is necessary for the attaining of that perfection which we have spoken of, I set a part all other sorts, and propose for this purpose the civil conversation.  Guaz. 
What mean you by that word, Civil?  Annib. 
If you mean to know my meaning of it, I must first ask if you know * any citizen which liveth uncivilly?  Guaz. 
Yes marry do I, more than one.  Annib. 
Now let me ask you on the contrary, if you know any man of the country which liveth civilly.  Guaz. 
Yea very many *.  Annib. 
You see then, that we give a large sense & signification to this word (civil) for that we would have understood, that to live civilly, is not said in respect of the city, but of the qualities of the mind: so I understand civil conversation not having relation to the city, but consideration to the manners and conditions which make it civil. And as laws and civil ordinances are distributed not only to cities, but to villages, castles, and people subject unto them, so I will that civil conversation appertain not only to men inhabiting cities, but too all sorts of persons of what place, or of what calling soever they are▪  
Too be short, my meaning is, that civil conversation is an honest commendable and virtuous kind of living in the world.  Guaz. 
I know by this your exposition of this word (Civil) the field we have to enter into, is very wide and roomesome, and therefore I am ready to give ear to matters no less full of variety and newness, than commodity and pleasantness.  Annib. 
As Mariners, before all other things, learn to know the signs and tokens of winds and storms, and the sight and place of rocks and shelves, and all other things any way contrary or hindersome to navigation, to the end that foreseeing the imminent dangers, they may know how to avoid them, and to make choice of f●t times and places prosperously to sail in: so we, being desirous to understand thoroughly which is the civil conversation, to the intent to follow it, must principally seek to know which is the uncivil and blameful conversation, to the intent to flee it. And truly we ought to avoid ill company, as well for the hurt which is received thereby, by the infection of naughty conditions, as for the judgement and opinion of others: for that we are at length taken for such as those are with whom we keep company. Which this common Proverb showeth, Tell me with whom thou dost go, and I shall know what thou dost. And it is not long since that master Francis Pugiella or Academike (being no less skilled in the laws, then pleasant in company) told me that a famous doctor of his profession, set it down as an undoubted sentence, that much credit ought to be given to the deposition of a witness which giveth in evidence of a man's honesty or dishonesty, for that he hath seen him frequent the company of men of a good or ill name. Now I would not have you blame me, if in searching out which is ill company, I make here a certain distinction of men according to mine own fancy, not according to the common and ordinary distinction. For I consider the nature of man one way in respect of himself, and an other way in respect of the conversation he hath wi●h others▪ having then only regard to conversation, I ordain three sorts of men, to whom we will give for the present these names. Good, Evil, and Indifferent, until we meet with words more proper and more significant.  Guaz. 
Why do you think those terms not proper enough?  Annib. 
For that these two names, Good, and Indifferent serve not to express fully that sort of men which I mean: and to show it you more plainly, I will give you an instance of healthy men, which are properly those, who have the four humours so equally tempered in them, and the simple parts which come of them (besides the other parts which we call compound, or instrumental, which are the very members of the body) so well proportioned, that one thing exceed not another in it just measure: and this health is granted either never, or very seldom, and that to a few persons. But for all that, we commonly term those healthful, who though they be not of so perfect a constitution of body, are able to live, yea, and to labour too, the most part of their time, without any going to Physic: and (to be short) who hold more of the whole then of the sick. So likewise when I name the good, I mean not only that excellency of goodness, which is not any way imperfect, and which is in a manner as rare on earth as the Phoenix: but I include in that number, all those which are well reported and reputed of in the world, and which approach so near as they can to that excellency before spoken of. In like case, when I said indifferent, I meant not that they are half good, and half evil, * neither as a certain Historian taketh it, who speaking of the Emperor Galba, termeth his disposition indifferent, for that comparing his virtues & his vices together, it was hard to judge whether he were to be counted amongst the good or the naughty: * but I meant those, who though sprinkled with some imperfections, yet wry rather to the good, than the evil.  Guaz. 
I see well now that these names do not wholly express your meaning.  Annib. 
It may be that in discoursing we shall hit upon more fit terms. In the mean while I say, that we must always follow the good, fly the ill, and neither follow nor fly the indifferent, and were it not that I were afraid to break the head of your Boccace, I would call the Good desirable, & the Ill, intolerable, and the Indifferent, tolerable.  Guaz. 
You shall offend Boccace rather with the unpropernes, then with the unusualnes of words. And for my part, I like better of these same then of the first: whereby I find verified the Proverb, Thar the second thoughts are ever the best: Go forward now if it please you.  Annib. 
I take the Intolerable and Ill, for those who for their apparent faults are pointed at with the finger, and holden for infamous, whose company we ought altogether to eschew. For all the world cannot let, but that the world will judge those which haunt their company to be like unto them.  Guaz. 
The abuse of the world is such, that many horrible vices, are become familiar and common, insomuch that it is counted a fault not to have them, and not to know how to practise them. And therefore I am of opinion, that if we must forego the company of the ill, we shall have but a few left to deal withal: insomuch that we should be feign to change conversation into solitariness, and to descend to particularities. You know how grievous the offences are committed against God, by the means of blasphemous oaths, which at this day are grown to such abuse, that there are few or none which confirm not their sayings with these wicked & detestable swearings, and which think not thereby to beautify and set forth their speech, as an Oration is with figures. Neither am I able to report unto you in what manner a young Gentleman a friend of mine was mocked in the Court, for that in his greatest chafe, he always swore by the body of a Hen. And at the end, to the end he might be taken for a good Courtier, he was driven to leave the Hen, and to betake himself to the Saints. That which I say of swearing, I mean likewise of many other heinous faults, which at this day are to be found in the most part of men. And for that they are common, I fear me, it be to no purpose that you have prescribed to avoid the company of the naughty, seeing that (if I may say it) Of one self pitch, we all have a touch: And that those which in show seem innocent lambs, are in deed ravening Wolves, & worse than those who are counted most wicked. For even infidels, & those that believe not at all in Christ, will counterfeit holiness.  Annib. 
* We are in deed become more weak in virtue, and more strong in vice, than our predecessors were, * and I see by you, you have read the sentence of the Poet Horace, which saith: 
From Grandsires scarce good, our fathers descended,  
to commit evil, are readily intended:  
In us their sons more mischief doth dwell.  
but us, our sons in vice will excel,   
And therefore I marvel not, if where as in old time there were few found to blaspheme the name of the great God, at this day there are many which will not stick to tear him limb meal, insomuch that he is thought either a Sot, or one of a base mind which cannot swear lustily. But if ye ask me why these same are suffered in all companies, notwithstanding they are far worse and far more worthy of punishment than the other of evil life, I will say unto you, that it cometh to pass, for that we make no reckoning of the offences done to Godward, as a thing which toucheth us not, and which pertaineth to God alone to revenge. But we cannot be quiet when either we ourselves or our friends are injured either in word or deed, so that therein we esteem the creature above the Creator. For you shall see him speak ill openly, & with a loud voice, of the name of God, who dareth not in a corner (as also it is not his part) so much as open his mouth to reprove the Prince or the Magistrates.  Guaz. 
I think these same offend as much, and commit no less riot, than those which crucified Christ.  Annib. 
I think rather they offend more, for those thought they did well, otherwise they had kept themselves from doing it, but these same know they do ill, and yet desist not from it: and you know how much more heinous those faults are which are committed of set malice, than those which are done of blind ignorance.  Guaz. 
Dispatch I pray you to show me if we ought to fly the conversation of these same, & if you put them in the number of the intolerable.  Annib. 
These horrible swearers, which make a profession of it, when their blood is not stirred, for their pleasure, rather than moved with choler, or any other occasion, aught in my judgement to be filled on the roll of the intolerable: but for others, though as a Christian you ought to fly them, yet as a Courtier, you cannot keep you from them: not so much for the great number of them, as for the error of the world, which esteemeth them in the row of the tolerable. To be short, we ought to consider that our name dependeth of the general opinions, which have such force, that reason is of no force against them: and therefore we must avoid those which bear a mark in their forehead, and are openly known to be dishonest.  Guaz. 
What will you say if I haunt the company of such, as a Physician to cure their infirmities, & as one jealous of their behaviour?  Annib. 
If you shall think yourself able to bring them into a better way, you shall do a deed acceptable unto God, and the world, to use their company, * Marry, he that coveteth to reap commodity of conversation, must seek all that he may to be amongst those that either may be made better by him, or else may make him better: * but these of whom I speak have made a sacrifice of their souls unto the Devil, and have cast of all care of honour, and of other men's opinions of them: and are so far gone, that you will rather become a convert then a converter: but herein you must imitate the good Archers, who shoot not at every bird, but only at those that are within reach to be hit.  Guaz. 
What men do you mean to be those which carry a mark in their forehead, and are intolerable.  Annib. 
Those who for notable cause are hated of the world, as some for suspicion of heresy, some for theft, some for usury, & other for other misdeeds, to whom we must add ruffians, harlots, flatterers, dicers, cooseners, and such, who for the baseness of their condition, and trade of their life, are holden for infamous, * as Sergeants, Hangmen, Tormentors. * Besides such as differ from us in religion as jews, Turks, etc. And to be short, all those which have an evil report, and who oftentimes for their deserts are new christened, and have such reproachful names given them, that most men eschew their company an as infectious disease, * and think it a great shame to be seen among them. *  Guaz. 
But how shall I behave myself with some. whom I know far more wicked than those whom you have spoken of, albeit by their dissembling hypocrisy, they are accounted of every man for honest men?  Annib. 
It is a common saying, That he which is evil and taken to be good, may do much mischief, and no man think him to be the worker of it. Notwithstanding, I put these same in the number of the tolerable: for though it trouble your conscience to come in their company, yet you give no occasion of mislike to the world, for that they are not reputed evil, and in this point we ought to satisfy rather others than ourselves, and to give place to the common custom.  Guaz. 
Doubtless custom is a great Tyrant, and I know no reason why it ought to prevail above reason. And * as the river Po, king of rivers, being over near unto us, for that there hath been no resistance made against it, is within this six years come so far forward, and hath won so much ground upon this City, that at length it hath broken the walls, and now threateneth to overthrow them: so in like manner, the violence of custom, for that we have too much suffered it, hath at this day in manner vanquished reason, which to be true if you mark some countries on this side the mountains, as I did at my return out of France, you shall find them fallen to a life more free (that I may not say licentious) then hath been used heretofore: and you see throughout the towns, some of those which are taken for Gentlemen to spend the time openly in the market place, in carding, and dicing so freely, as men use to do in their private houses.  Annib. 
You tell me no strange thing, neither ought you more to marvel to see those same play at those games openly in the street, then to see the Frenchmen (as I have heard they do) quaff and carouse in Taverns, and I am persuaded that if some Gentleman more precise than other shall withdraw himself from this manner of play, not vouchsefing to make one amongst them, he shallbe mocked and termed disdainful, either a wise man, or Doctor, or a Poet, or some such like. But withal I would you should know that this new manner of life hath in it some colour and excuse, for that those Countries of Piedmont, which you speak of having been for these many years, a continual receipt for soldiers of many nations, the people are not only become warriors, but have retained the customs and rites of war.  Guaz. 
Are you then of opinion that a Gentleman ought to converse with such manner of people?  Annib. 
Upon this point, there present themselves unto me two contrary reasons: For if I respect the common use of the Country, which is now become ancient, and hath taken deep root, we cannot but put them in the number of the desirable, and we may boldly use their company. On the other side, if I set myself to consider that this gamesome life is offensive, and of evil example, and that in all other Countries the Gentlemen, and those which are well borne, would count it a shame to be found in public places with cards in their hands, some perchance would place them in the rank of the intolerable. Notwithstanding, between these two extreme reasons, I see one in the midst between them, which maketh me of opinion that these men are to be counted tolerable, for that though they have by use this abuse of playing, yet you shall find that they apply it not to that end, which o●her gamesters do, to make a gain of it, but for pastetime and recreation sake: and beside we know that for the rest of their life, they are so modest and virtuous as any other people are. And therefore I think, that that custom of playing being judged of the world neither good nor evil, these men which use it are not to be rejected out of honest company.  Guaz. 
In my opinion this is a kind of injustice, to allow that to these which is inhibited to others: and to give them power to make of vice virtue. Your meaning is then, as far as I gather, that as it is lawful only for the Cinganes to rob, so these also have privilege to play in open street. But I would have them think that the streets & public places ought to serve the common people for merchandise, and the Gentlemen for jousts, turnies, shows, & such like exercises, which appertain more to good horsemanship and warlike discipline, than cards and dice do. And therefore I am persuaded they have nothing else to say, for defence of this their custom, but that which Diogenes said, who being asked why he eat openly in the street, answered because he was a hungered in the street: so they play there, because being there, there cometh upon them a desire to play.  Annib. 
There is no help in it, but you must settle yourself to like of such men with their imperfections, and to think that every Nation, land, and Country, by the nature of the place, the climate of the heaven, and the influence of the stars hath certain virtues, and certain vices, which are proper, natural, and perpetual unto it. And as good and sharp wits flourish where the air is pure and subtle, so there are found dull and gross heads where the air is foggy and thick. And touching conditions you know that the Greeks though singular in learning and eloquence, yet are they disloyal and faithless, and therefore it is proverbially said, The Greekish faith. Moreover, there are other people who by natural virtue are given to the industry and discipline of war, and by natural vice are driven to haughtiness and drunkenness, some are able easily to sustain and stoutly to bear out pain, watching and travail, who on the other side are vainglorious & bragger's. To some, stout hardiness, and devout holiness, have been always proper and natural, who nevertheless are worldlings and unconstant. I am sure also you make no doubt of it, but that we Italians have likewise some vices & virtues natural, and that we do no less exceed in the one, then excel in the other. But if it seem no marvel unto you to see these divers fashions and customs, according to the diversity * and great distance of Countries, do but consider how much we differ only within the circuit of Italy, in the Roman, Tuscan, Lombardie, and other parts of it: then behold one of those parts apart, and cast your imagination on the centre or point of Montferrat, and you shall find, how only the river Po and Tanar make Countries to differ in language, apparel, life, and manners, which are no further distant one from another, then from one side or bank of the river to the other. Whereupon you will grant me, that all Countries have their natural faults together with their virtues: whereby you may be assured, that if other people have not used to play at cards and dice openly, yet perchance they have brought in ure both publicly and privately vices far more pernicious than this. Now to lose no more time about this point, I say unto you, that it is not inconvenient, but necessary, to follow the diversity of manners and customs, according to the diversity of the Countries, * and to imitate Alcibiades, to whom it was counted a praise, that he had so ready a wit to frame himself to the diversity of the life and manners of other Countries, * and according to the saying, When one is at Rome, to live as they do at Rome.  Guaz. 
I should think good that we should now come to the general points pertaining to the conversation of the tolerable.  Annib. 
It is better in my mind to dispatch other things which now come in my head touching the intolerable. And though this matter be so ample, that a man cannot sufficiently speak of it, yet we ought not with silence to pass over the vice of the slanderous, who with the falseness of their tongues, seek to blemish the brightness of others names.  Guaz. 
That fault is at this day common throughout the world, and therefore we must spite of our teeth bear with ill tongues, which swarm in greater number than Bees do in july: neither is it possible for a man to escape their stinging, do the best he can. For now adays men take such pleasure in this vice, that many which are free almost from all other faults, yet are they not able to bridle their blasphemous tongues.  Annib. 
* I have by long experience noted, that commonly the idle the ignorant, the unfortunate, and bankrupts, which have no good success in their own affairs, are they which seek to deprave the doings of other men, and give themselves to speak evil, for that they know not how to do any thing well. * But though this fault be common to many, and grateful to the world, yet for all that it is hateful to the world▪ and whosoever shall look thoroughly into it, will grant me that the fault of him which speaketh ill of his neighbour, to the intent to bring him into hatred, is greater than of him who pulleth the bread out of the mouth of the poor. For as the soul is more precious than the body, so is it a greater offence to take away ones good name, which refresheth the soul, then to defraud one of food, which sustaineth the body.  Guaz. 
It seemeth to me that in these words is implied some contrariety, where you say, that to speak ill of others, is both grateful to the world, and hateful to the world.  Annib. 
No truly, for our nature draweth us to desire to understand the imperfections of other, and we count it the greatest pleasure that may be: and as we like well to hear others ill spoken of, so we cannot abide to be ill spoken of ourselves, whether it be rightfully or wrongfully.  Guaz. 
I count it nothing strange, that we like not to be found fault withal ourselves: but what think you is the cause that we are so glad to hear others ill spoken of?  Annib. 
I think that cometh to pass by means of two mighty enemies, which we keep in our own house, that is, Ennie, and Ambition, which in ourselves, conspiring against ourselves, force us to be grieved that others should be counted good, and make us desire that only we ourselves may seem good. But I will tell you a thing which will make you marvel in deed▪ and which you will think against all reason.  Guaz. 
What is that I pray you?  Annib. 
Marry that there are two principal sorts of these evil tongued: the one ill, which you ought to ●lie: the other far worse, whose company you ought not to avoid. I mean by Ill, those who without fear▪ without shame; without any respect or difference, whet their tongues to rend a sunder, and impair in all their talk both public and private, the good name of others, sparing none, either present or absent. But these same, while they recount other men's faults, do many times more offend the minds of the hearers, than those who do commit them. And though they have a mark on their forehead, and are known for infamous persons, yet for so much as they utter their venom openly and flatly, they ought, in respect of the worse sort, rather to be pitied then blamed: for that they show plainly, that their evil speaking is derived from their own corrupt nature, not from the parties of whom they speak ill: By reason whereof, their words are not much credited, and in my opinion they do nothing else but raise a dust to do out their own eyes: for in accusing others, they condemn themselves, and where they would have men think them to be Cato's, they show themselves Momes, Beasts, and not to be borne withal. But what shall we say of those Cur dogs, which without barking bite us privily? who must be admitted into conversation, notwithstanding they are far worse than the other.  Guaz. 
Which do you take them to be?  Annib. 
Those are of divers sorts, who nevertheless shoot all at one mark. Some of them I call Maskers, some Rethoricians, some Poets, some Hypocrites, some Scorpions, some Traitors, some Forgers, some Biters, some Mockers, and some unknown.  Guaz. 
You make me laugh with your pleasant and strange distinctions: but whom call you maskers?  Annib. 
There are certain glorious fellows, who at shrovetide go with masks on their face, and yet would feign be known what they are: so likewise certain naughty tongued fellows under the mask of modesty, say they will not name him whom they reprehend, and yet they set him out so evidently, that all the hearers know whom he meaneth. By the example of the Countryman, who telling the hunter that the fox was not gone that way, pointed notwithstanding to the place where he was hidden. Some of these maskers use also speeches with a certain outward show of commendation, which nevertheless are full of reproach and mockery. And to say what is of it▪ they are those who according to the Proverb, Have Honey in their mouth, and a knife in their hand.  Guaz. 
Now who are the Rethoricians?  Annib. 
They are those who with a certain figure▪ called by the Masters of Eloquence Occupatio, make as though they would not speak evil, & yet do it, and worse too. And touching this point, no longer ago then yesterday I chanced to be in company, where one amongst the rest complaining of another that had injuried him in words, saith, I will not rehearse the lewd part he played with a poor maid (whom he named) neither the stripes he caused to be given one night to another, neither the contracts of usury, which he hath made with certain poor men of such a place, which I perfectly know, but I will speak nothing hereof, least men count me to be as ill tongued as he. Next after these, come the blasphemous Poets, who using the figure Antiphrasis, and speaking by contraries, will give in mockage, the name of fair to a woman that is foul, and of honest, to one that is an harlot, and will commend the eyes of one which looketh a squint. Let us now come to ill tongued Hypocrites, who under the colour of grief & compassion, to be the better believed, lamentably rehearse the ill haps of other: which vice, though it be common to many, yet it is most familiar with certain women, who meeting with other of their Gossips, after the first greetings, they forthwith break into these speeches, Have you not heard the hard hap of my unfortunate neighbour: and thereupon making the story, they rehearse how the husband by means of his servant, took her tardy in her hasty business. Then they tell the wall, and the way whereby her lover got down: next, how cruelly her husband beat her, and her maid, & think not that they leave any thing behind untold, but rather will put too somewhat of their own devise. After this, another beginneth to say, And I will quite your tale with the like chance that happened within this six days in our street, but I pray you in any wise let it go no further. Now I leave to you to think how in recounting these goodly novels, they pass from one street to another, to recite the doings of others.  Guaz. 
The last year the Duchess was driven to part with one of her chief women, for this very cause: she had continually her hours devoutly in her hands, & was long time taken for a woman of a most godly life, by reason whereof she was grown into great favour with her highness: notwithstanding in process of time she was detected to be one of a naughty slanderous tongue: whereby she went about to bring into the disgrace of the Duchess all the Lady's of the Court. Before she fell to the matter, she used some such insinuation, Madam I would not have your grace any whit offended or troubled for any thing that befalleth to your Gentlewomen, for you ought to think that we are borne sinners, and that there is nothing in this world more frail than our flesh. Consider with yourself, how much she inflamed the Duchess by these words, with desire to understand the rest. And as she was earnest with her to go on with her tale, the naughty quean humbly requested her not to enforce her to speak of such inconveniences. And after she had abidden three or four assaults, at length, as it were forced thereto, rubbing dry her eyes, which for very grief stood full of tears, she began to make relation of the slipper pranks of the duchesses Gentlewomen, and had never done with her reproachful reports. But I expect now your speech of the ill tongued Scorpions.  Annib. 
Those be they which will utter these or such like speeches of you or any other: I think not possible to find a more courteous and honourable Gentleman than Master Guazzo, whom I should far more account of, if he had not one great fault. You know how afterward he beginneth in manner of a Scorpion to sting you with his tail, in speaking ill of you. Others will handle the matter more artificially saying, A mischief take those ill tongues which cease not to molest those which are good and honest, and will not so much as spare the good name of our Master Guazzo, of whom (notwithstanding he is the flower of courtesy and virtue) yet they stick not to say, that he is proud and malicious, and that corrupted with money he hath done & said such and such things: and so tell all, and more too.  Guaz. 
I understand you. These same may go hand in hand with those who always accompany their (yea) with (but.) What say you now of ill tongued traitors?  Annib. 
If perchance you have received some hard entreatment at your Prince's hand, and * as it were to ease your stomach * you make complaint thereof to some one, upon trust that you repose in him, and he go and discover it to your Prince, will you not judge him to be an ill tongued traitor, and one that seeketh your spoil?  Guaz. 
Yes truly, and yet that fault is rise in Courts, and oftentimes Princes, being desirous to try out the truth, have granted their servants the combat one against the other. And I know when upon like occasion certain Gentlemen have conveyed themselves into some close place, where because the one would not live with the name of an evil speaker, & the other of a false accuser, they have made an end of their lives and their quarrels both together.  Annib. 
I comprehend also under this withered branch, all tale-bearers, and all spies, all coiners and sowers of discord, and all those which bewray other men's secrets: leaving to your report how greatly they do offend.  Guaz. 
The least punishment that they deserve is, to have their tongues pulled out, as jupiter served a certain nymph, who bewrayed his secret loves to juno: but I marvel nothing though many fall into this fault, for that we naturally run upon things which are forbidden us. Whereupon a certain wise man used to say, that it was more easy to hold a burning coal, than a secret word in one's mouth. Wherefore I hold him for a very fool, which discovereth his secrets to another, if necessity force him not. For according to the saying, He bringeth himself in subjection to another, which telleth his secret to him who knew it not. I remember me to this purpose, of a pleasant part of a serving man, to whom his master gave certain garments: which he no sooner had, but he gave them forthwith to a friend of his, & as his master blamed him for it, he made answer, why would you have me keep them, when you yourself could not keep them? A man may shape us the like answer in revealing our secrets, which we ourselves could not keep hidden in our hearts. And we ought to hold it for a ground, that things committed to the ears, are for the most part proclaimed in the streets. But as it is a great fault to disclose the secrets of other: so contrariwise, it is a notable virtue to know how to hold one's peace, and to bridle his tongue. And if we be bound to keep close the secrets of a friend: how much more ought we secretaries to conceal the secrets of our master, who giveth us wages to the end we should be secret? and that we should imitate the Greek, who as one told him his mouth stunk, answered, that the cause of it was the many secrets which he suffered to mould and vinew within it. Which may be understood not only of other men's secrets, but of our own also. And in very deed he that will keep his thoughts secret, let him not unfold them to any other, but let him be his own secretary. But me thinks I am strayed out of our way, and therefore it were better we returned to the distinction of the ill tongued.  Annib. 
Nay rather, your brief and sententious discourse came well to the purpose, and I willingly gave ear to it, as matter not proceeding from a Secretary employed in trifles. Let us now speak of ill tongued forgers, whose naughtiness is such, that they will accuse you to have done or said that which you never thought. Wherein you oftentimes receive injury of two persons: to wit, of the false accuser, who according to the proverb, speaketh reproachful words to one that is deaf, which is, to backbite the absent: & of him who before he understand the matter, giveth credit to those false surmises. This questionless is an over great fault, and in the number of these forgers I put those, who if you shall speak any thing unto them soberly and sagely, make a false and perverse interpretation of it, and wrest it to some evil meaning. The ill tongued byters follow next, out of whose mouth proceed certain short nips, which pierce our hearts more than sharp arrows: And though they quip & scoff oftentimes according to the truth, yet they are not clear from gilt, for that they do it with a spiteful mind: whereby they incur blame and ill will: Yea they are so indiscréet and insolent, that they had rather forego a faithful friend, than a scoffing speech. Neither can they so cover their words under the cloak of pleasantness or gravity, but that their maliciousness is discyphered. But as they are blame worthy, who with such taunts stir up men's choler, so those are to be borne withal, who being provoked, return one scoff with an other: and those answers ever are worth two of those which are made unprovoked. Whereof we have a thousand examples: amongst others, this is known to most men, which was made to the Emperor Augustus, who meeting by chance with a stranger which resembled him very much in favour, asked him if his mother had at any time been at Rome, insinuating thereby in flouting manner, that he might be his father's bastard son. But the stranger answered him no less boldly then merrily, my mother was never there, but my father hath.  Guaz. 
It is very true, that he which saith what pleaseth him, heareth that which displeaseth him.  Annib. 
After these same, come mockers and flouters, who without any comely grace, deride every man, and more easily persuade themselves that they are pleasant and merry conceited fellows, then perceive themselves to be ignorant and undiscreet fools.  Guaz. 
A Gentleman will hardly away withal, to be mocked by one of these glorious Asses, neither will he easily digest such an injury.  Annib. 
I think so, but he must use patience, and follow the Philosopher, who as it was told him that certain mocked him: answered, It may be they mock at me, but I am not mocked. * And no doubt he is greatly deceived, which thinketh it lawful for him to despise or mock any, but those which are evil. There remain now the evil tongued unknown, who work their feat two manner of ways, either by writing, or by figure. The first, by slanderous Lybels' impair the honour of others, and these same for the most part in manner of lightning, which scorcheth the tops of Towers and high Palaces, cast forth their renown against Princes & great Lords. The other, with tablets and pictures use to represent men and women in some infamous and dishonest act.  Guaz. 
I remember that in a famous City there was by night set upon the door of his house, the most natural and resemblant picture of a Gentleman with two horns on his forehead.  Annib. 
Such deeds are blamable; yea, and deserve punishment rather than blame. * Now you have heard how many sorts there are of the ill tongued in the world, & how grievous their fault is: which is moreover more shameful when it is committed against the dead, for that the evil speaker showeth thereby manifestly his base and abject mind, in offending those who can not defend themselves, against whom while they were alive, they durst not perchance once open their lips. And of these, this saying rose, That the Lion being dead, the very Hares triumph over him. * But it is now high time to set an end to this discourse, and I fear me you will count me ill tongued, to speak so much ill of the ill tongued. Wherefore all these kind of evil speakers gathered together, I say, that though they are had in hatred, yet commonly they are not excluded from the company of others: for that they are not marked on the forehead, by reason whereof we cannot refuse their company, but must away with them so well as we may.  Guaz. 
Seeing your mind is not, that we shall fly the Conversation of such manner of pestiferous people, in my opinion it were expedient and necessary, to teach some trick how we may be preserved from the venom of their serpentine tongues.  Annib. 
Your request is very reasonable, whereto I briefly answer, saying unto you, That like as certain beasts, having to encounter with Serpents, have first recourse to certain simples, which, being eaten, have power to repress and mortify their venom: so having often to encounter with the evil tongued, we ought to be armed with some preservative. And for my part, I find no presenter remedy, when in our presence a foul mouthed railer fileth his tongue to touch someone, then to abase our eyes, and not to seem to take pleasure in his railing speech. For when he perceiveth we delight not in his words, he will forbear to speak evil. You know that arrows will not stick in stones, so neither will their rotten roots stick fast, but where they find the ground soft & apt to receive them. And I say thus much unto you further, that if we will seek diligently which is the greater fault, either to give ear to an evil speaker, or to speak ill of others, we shall confess in the end, (as others have done) that we are not able to give any determinate judgement of it. And to say the truth, whosoever giveth hearing to a slanderous detractor, giveth him occasion to offend: and it is so great chance, but that he himself is one of the same stamp. So that he which speaketh, thinketh he committeth no fault, or at least if he do, that he parteth it in the middle, giving one half to the hearer, and taking the other unto himself. Whereby it cometh to pass, that like two blind men which lead one an other, they fall both into one ditch. Let us then stop our ears, against the words of such manner of people, and so doing we shall repress their unbridled tongues, and get great honour and credit with the wise. And as it is well done to bear no part in the ill report of others, so is it a deed deserving commendation, to make no account of the slanders which others raise of us. And we ought to prepare ourselves to have our ears as readily at our command, as they have their tongues. By the example of Alexander the great, who making war against an other King, and hearing one of his soldiers speak ill of him, rebuked him sharply, saying, I give thee pay to fight against mine enemy, not to rail against him. The same Alexander understanding that some misreported him, went not about any way to revenge it, but answered sagely, & with a Princely modesty, that it belonged to a King to do well, and hear ill. * Ad hereto, the saying of Augustus, who hearing that Tiberius was very sorry that he bore himself so modestly & patiently towards those that spoke ill of him, wrote unto him these words, Do not (my Tiberius) herein follow your youthful fancy, and take it in such scorn that there are some which speak ill of us, for that is sufficient if we be in that case that none can do us harm▪ Also he said to another touching this matter, that in a free ●itie men ought to have free speeches.  Guaz. 
But all princes have not the courage of Alexander or Augustus.  Annib. 
Truly if it be ill done to blemish the renown of private persons, it is much worse to misreport princes specially our natural and liege Lords, and those which do it are to be detested of all men, for that in speaking ill of them, they provoke them to wrath, and oftentimes give them occasion to alter their conditions, and of gentle and courteous, to become rough and cruel. Neither can they excuse themselves by saying that there are naughty princes and tyrants, for so much as they have received a commandment from God to obey their rulers, what soever they are● in confirmation whereof it is said, if Nero be thy prince rebel not against him.  Guaz. 
Now that we have done with those pricking and thorny tongues, have you any other sort of persons which are at least to be borne withal and tolerated in our conversation, though they be not to be desired?  Annib. 
A certain Philosopher, being asked what beast in the world he thought to be worst, answered, of wild ones the evil tongued, of tame ones, the flatterer: and therefore I think we shall proceed in our discourses very orderly▪ if having spoken already of those wild beasts we, shall now entreat of these tame ones, whose breath is so venomous, that it poisoneth the hearts of those that give ear unto them.  Guaz. 
And in what row I pray you put you these?  Annib. 
There are of them two sorts, the one opens the other secret. The open flatterers are those, who constrained through need and hunger, rather than any thing else, get them to the houses of great personages, and there play their part so well that they make them believe, according to the Proverb, that gloe Worms are lanterns, and that the Moon is made of a green Cheese. Or at least they will be sure to say or do some thing that shallbe acceptable unto them: And these get the name, not only of slatterers, but also of Parasites and jesters. Like as one Nicesias, who seeing the flies bit as soon the hands, as soon the face of Alexander, said, O how much better are these flies then other, which have the favour to taste of your royal blood. * And another seeing Dionysius (standing a good way of out of his hearing) to laugh with certain of his familiars, he fell to laughing to: and as Dionysius asked him why he laughed: he answered, For that I know all your words to be so full of witty pleasantness, that they will make any man laugh * You see likewise the comedies, both of the time past, and of the present, furnished with these flatterers and Gnathoes, whom for that they have been pointed at, as they go in the streets, and openly noted for infamous persons, we ought too avoid as intolerable, and men of vile condition, and of no valour, and who often like slaves are well and truly beaten for their scurrilous and broad jesting. And as the Ape which is not fit to guard the house as the mastiff, neither to bear a burden as the Ass or horse, neither to ear the ground as the Ox, giveth himself to make us laugh with his mops and mows, and to endure a thousand villainies: so these flatterers, having no honest or profitable trade to commend themselves by, frame themselves to delight the eyes and ears of others, to their own great shame and reproach. Next after these, follow the secret flatterers, who under the colour of friendship and good will, cunningly and artificially insinuate themselves into other men's favour, and by their subtle devices and false persuasions, make them fall into many errors.  Guaz. 
You put these same as I think in the number of the tolerable.  Annib. 
just.  Guaz. 
And I would hold rather that they should be put in the number of the desirable,  Annib. 
Why so?  Guaz. 
For, that though all reproo●e flattery in word, yet every one commendeth it in heart: and I promise you, that among so many cities, countries, and nations as I have traveled, I never yet found man so fierce and savage which hath not suffered himself to be coyed and clawed with the tickling of flattery: and by long experience, I have noted that all persons of great valour, and of the best wits take a singular pleasure no less to flatter others, then to be flattered themselves. You are not ignorant that if you, minding to extol me, came and told me that I were a strong wrestler, or an excellent musician, I should think you mocked me because no part of those parts are in me, but when you shall commend me for writing a fair hand, or a pure style, or for any thing else concerning my profession, I shall for manner and modesty sake make some courtesy to accept your commendation, but in my mind I shallbe well apaid of it: as well for that I persuade myself, that all which you shall say of me touching those matters, is most true, as for that naturally I am desirous of praise and commendation▪ And I remember I have read, that Themistocles being asked what words uttered on the stage, pleased him best, answered, those which recount my praises. And this desire is common to all men, who are so licourous of honour * that only to hear themselves exalted, maketh them besides themselves for joy. Like as Demosthenes did, who passing before two water-bearers and hearing them say softly one to another▪ this is the famous Orator Demosthenes, turned back, & stood a-tiptoe to make himself the better seen, as who say, I am even he. But what speak I of Demosthenes? How many are there * who without measuring their merit, or considering whether they be praised rightly or without cause, suffer themselves willingly to be deceived, and take in good part these praises *. And on the contrary how many do we see (and perhaps I myself am one of them) that take it heavily, and in a manner angrily, if they be not magnified *▪ Yea I will say more unto you, that if one of these Gnatoes, of whom you have made mention, should fall to commending me, and bend himself to set me forth in the best colours he could, undoubtedly I should become a very Thraso, and I should willingly listen unto him, making myself believe, that though he used to flatter others, yet he dealt plainly with me. Yea, I should can him thank for it, and wish that all my friends▪ and kinsfolk were present to hear it.  
Tush Master Annib. Flattery is the way to make friends, and win preferment: and I am persuaded, that he which knoweth not how to gloze and flatter, knoweth not how to behave himself in company. I heard once a French Lord say to his friends, flatter me, and ye do me the greatest pleasure in the world. * And there is no man but knoweth, that as bitter reprehension is the beginning of enmity, so gentle adulation is an entry to amity. * But if you think that flattery doth often make men do amiss, I am of the contrary opinion: for as he, which is worthily commended, is thereby the more encouraged to goodness, so he that seeth himself praised without desert, acknowledgeth to himself his unworthiness, & endeavoureth by his deeds to become worthy of such praise. And if flattery were a fault, discreet fathers and schoolmasters would not use it towards young children, who notwithstanding they do not speak, read, writ, sing or dance, or any such like, exactly and perfectly, yet their fathers or masters cease not greatly to extol that which they do, to the end to encourage them to go forward from good to better. You see also, that nature hath planted a certain kind of fawning flattery, even in the hearts of little infants, who run and embrace, & kiss their parents and friends, when they would obtain any thing at their hands: yea and hath taught it unto beggars, who to have our a●mes, importune and flatter us with fair words, and pitiful speeches. Moreover, consider these sine Orators what glavering speeches they use, and how they teach men to insinuate, & by coloured words to creep into men's boosomes, and to win the favour of Princes & Magistrates. Neither will I omit the example of politic lovers, who to win the good will of their beloved, term her both in talk and letters, sometime Mistress, sometime the heart of their life, sometime their soul, sometime their hope with such like flattering names. Yea, they will not stick to send her to Paradise, giving her the title of a Goddess, and calling her beauty Angelical and divine: her teeth Pearls, her lips Coral, her hands ivory, and as the Poet saith, 
Her heirs are glistering Gold,  
Her face the driven snow:  
Her lids are of Hebene tree,  
Her eyes two Stars do show.   
The world (to make it short,) is full of flattery, and is maintained by flattery, and at this day it is more in fashion then picked beards, or great ruffs. You see how all persons, to the intent to avoid contention, and to be acceptable in company, soothe one an other, not only by speaking, but by holding their peace, and seeming to consent to other men's sayings. In deeds likewise double diligence is often used, as, though we see the garments of our master or friend very clean without spot or moat, yet to pick us a thank, we will not stick to rub and wipe them with the lap of our cloak, as if there were dust or dirt upon th●m. Again, there are some who while others speak, though they give no care at all unto them, yet they nod their heads, and abase their eyes, and with signs seem to hold up their yeas and nays, which is nothing else but mere flattery. You know also that we naturally hate cavillers and Sophists, who at every word will overthwart us, and as they say, seek knots in Bulrushes: and how on the other side those, which seem to consent to our sayings, either in words or gesture, we repute them for our friends, we bear them great affection, and love to be in their company, taking their flattery in steed of courtesy and good will. In so much that we count him either envious or proud, which doth not soothe us in all things: and so great is our vainglory, that when men commend us, though we think it far above our desert, yet we attribute it rather to the great abundance of good will, then to the fraud of flattery. You shall never hear any give the lie to an other for praises, which he shall wrongly and falsely slander him withal, but being puffed up with pride and vainglory, with a merry look, he maketh answer, The good will, which you bear me, causeth you to say so. Therefore not without reason, a certain Flatterer (being advised to speak the truth) answered in deed, A man ought to speak the truth to him that will hear it: but who is he? But nevertheless take this with you, that as truth getteth hatred, so flattery winneth love, and breedeth good blood, in so much that he, which should take flattery out of the world, should take away all humanity and courtesy, For than we should not salute him whom we take to be our enemy, whereas now we see, that he biddeth us good morrow with his mouth, which wisheth us much sorrow in his heart. But what will you have a man do? * We must by their example give them merry looks, and fleer in their faces: we must play the Fox with Foxes, & delude art, with art. * And as it is a fault stiffly to stand in contention with ones friend, so is it a virtue to know how to give place & yield in giving him the upper hand. Like as the wily Anichin did in Boccace, who suffering a Gentlewoman to mate him at chests, thereby made himself her mate at better sport. * By these reasons therefore I conclude, that to win favour, & happily to achieve our purposes, we must always have praising and pleasing words in our mouth, * and we must count it commendable to extol both by words & signs the doings of others, and to give them tha● which every one gapeth after.  Annib. 
You have very wittily commended & set forth flattery, but for that I am altogether different in opinion from you, because I will not be thought a Flatterer, I will oppose myself against the reasons which you have alleged. And first I say unto you, that men for the most part, are Flatterers of themselves, making themselves believe they are that, which they are not. * With which folly Princes are oft times blinded, like as Domitian was, who was neither afeard nor ashamed to cause himself to be called Lord and God. Of whom a flatterer writeth these words to his glory, but to his own shame, The Edict of our Lord and God. Likewise Alexander suffering this madness to enter into his head, thought it not enough to be a man and a King, and to have the title of great: but he would on God's name, be called the son of jupiter, neither was he well pleased with those which did not soothe him in it. Whereof his mother complained, saying, He would bring her into disgrace with juno, for making her a Cucqueane. But at this divinity a certain Philosopher, who had no skill in flattering, made a scoff, who seeing his Physician in his sickness prepare for the recovery of his health a certain supping or broth, said, Our God hath put the hope of his health in a mess of broth: so that those which love themselves, so without measure, * willingly give ear to flatterers, of whom they think they are praised, when in truth they are but flattered. And therefore no marvel though flatterers are so acceptable. Yet notwithstanding, men of discretion, which know themselves and their deserts, though naturally they are desirous of praise, yet they love not to be flattered, or praised without cause: for so much as false praise is nought else but mockery, and therefore I think you not so greedy of glory, that if in the recital of your praises I should intermeddle any thing which were not true, you would can me any great thank for it, but would blame me either in words openly, or in your heart secretly.  Guaz. 
See how you are wounded with your own weapon, for in commending me for one who like not to be commended above my deserving, you attribute a virtue unto me which is not in me, and show yourself a flatterer, and a flouter.  Annib. 
You are deceived, and it is you yourself that have received the wound: for having already said, that if a flatterer praise you, you will not take him for a flatterer towards you, and now not allowing me to attribute unto you a virtue, which you deem yourself to have, you are contrary to yourself, and make me appear a true dealer, and no flatterer. Besides that, when I say, I take you to be such a one that seeketh not praise without desert, this is no commendation, but rather a good opinion that I have of you: This were a commendation, if I did affirm absolutely that you were such a one as would give no ear to flatterers. Wherefore my words having no signification of praise, they can not receive any interpretation or suspicion of flattery. Now following our purpose, I say again, That a wise man doth never agree to the false praises of flatterers, who resemble altogether the Fish Polypus: for as that Fish changeth colour according to the object that it encountereth, so they altar their opinions according to the appetite of the hearers: and they are termed by an ancient Author enemylike friends, for under their pleasant sugared words, they keep hidden a bitter venomous meaning, * in like manner as the hook is hidden under the bait, or the Serpent amongst the flowers: Neither are they unlike the Butcher who claweth the Hog with his hand, to the intent to come conveniently to lay his beetle upon his pate. Neither is it to be said, that flattery worketh any good, for that a man commended without cause, endeavoureth to deserve it: for a cunning flatterer, setteth the garments so artificially upon the back of him whom he disguiseth withal, that the seams shall not be seen: and betaketh himself in such sort to things like to be true, that he maketh them taken for true in deed. And albeit some famous writers have entreated of the means to discern a friend from a flatterer, yet is it in my opinion very hard (that I may not say impossible) to attain to that knowledge, as well for that the world is full of these tame beasts, as also for that it is hard to discern the evil which resembleth the good. And therefore it was well said of a wise man, That as the Wolf is like to the Dog, so is the flatterer to the friend: and that we must take heed to mistake, least thinking to set ourselves in the keeping of Dogs, we fall into the devouring of Wolves. But be it so, that you feel the smell of false praise, yet notwithstanding you shall not feel in yourself that remorse and desire of desert, which you speak of: for this false praise hath a show of truth, and is bestowed upon you as due and deserved. I come now to the example of parents, who as you say, flatter their children, to encourage them to virtue, and of children, who on the other side flatter their parents, to wring some thing from them: and I say unto you, That these two cases differ. The first is not in truth flattery, for that there is no deceit in it.  Guaz. 
Do you not deceive a child, when he hath leapt but a little way, and you tell him he hath leapt excellently well?  Annib. 
It is a good kind of deceit which tendeth to a good end, and which is profitable to the party deceived, as we Physicians deceive sometime our Patients, in giving them the juice of Pomegranates in steed of wine.  Guaz. 
Descend to the other example of children, which flatter their parents to get money, or something else.  Annib. 
That if I be not deceived, requireth more deep consideration: and we must first understand, that some to get favour, use to uphold and extol whatsoever others shall say, without gainsaying any thing: some on the contrary, fall to contention continually, and cross other men's sayings, and these two extréemes are nought, between which thereto lieth a way, which those keep, who * will neither altogether sooth, neither altogether thwart, but * in an honest sort know how to allow, or disallow the sayings of others in time and place, as it becometh an honest man to do. Next, we must note, that those who hold up every one's yeas and nays, only to the intent to delight, aught to be called jesters, but when they do it for their advantage, they are without question flatterers. And according to this distinction, children, which embrace their parents to get something from them, are to be termed flatterers: but in this case, we have further to consider, that children can not give praise, or show love to their parents, that may surmount their natural and bounden duty, or that may be more than their parents think they have merited.  Guaz. 
Yea marry, but it is a common saying, That he which maketh more of thee then he was wont, either hath coosoned thee already, or else goeth about to cousin thee. And parents are not so blind, but that they see in this case the subtlety and craft of their children.  Annib. 
They do not only perceive it, but also conceive well of it, and do not count it craft as you do, but rather a thing commendable, for that they see their children therein to follow nature as their Mistress, which teacheth us to humble ourselves in our need, and to crave of others by deeds sounding forth their praise, and setting forth our affection towards them, and to know that he which will have, must ask, and he which will enter into the house, must first knock at the gate. And albeit we ought at all times to give praises to our heavenly father, yet we are most stirred thereto, both with tongue and heart, when we are desirous to obtain any thing at his hands. And to appease his wrath, we call him not just, but make mention of his clemency and mercy, whereof we stand in need. Whereof, according to this consideration, we may rightly conclude, that such manner of deeds ought not to run under the name of flattery, and that infants, no nor children of discretion, can not (though they would) use flattery towards their parents. Which Pittacus one of the seven wise men of Greece plainly showed, saying, Never be afeard to be counted a flatterer of thy father. And touching the example of the poor which beg alms with glavering words. I answer, that necessity hath no law: and if to avoid hunger, in some country's theft be suffered, much more ought flattery to be borne withal. And beside, I think that it is not properly to be called flattery: for that a Flatterer doth not use openly to show his need, but cunningly laboureth to move men to extend their liberality towards him. And by the self same reason, I maintain the cause of the Orator, who craveth openly of the Prince or judge, that which he desireth to obtain: neither ought he any more to be blamed, than he which saith, take heed to thyself, for I mean to strike thee. For as this same manifesteth his intent, and giveth his adversary leisure to prepare to defend himself: so the Orator entereth not into the field, but that the judge first knoweth the request he is to make, and bethinketh him of the means which shall be used to sound his opinion. There remaineth now no more but the last example of lovers, who I am content to confess unto you, are in deed no better than flatterers. For a greater man than myself confesseth as much, writing, that if their beloved be flat nosed, they term her amiable: if hauked, they call her Princely: if she be brown, they count her manly: if white, heavenly. But this is not to be marveled at, seeing lovers are both lawless, and witless, and that in their hearts as our Poet saith: 
The senses bear the sway, and reason is subdued.   
And as the lover flattereth his Mistress, so she flattereth herself, for that there is no woman so deformed, who hearing herself called beautiful, believeth it not, or at least thinketh not to be esteemed for such of her lover. And as the Crow to give credit and consent to the praises which the Fox gave him, let the pray fall forth of his mouth: so many unfortunate women have felt the evil which cometh of flattery, for that by the breath of praises, as a Feather in the wind, they have suffered themselves to be lifted so high, that being not able there to sustain themselves, they have fallen to the ground, and in the fall have given their honour such a foil, that of Mistresses, they have become servants. Now touching that point of civility and courtesy, where you say we salute those who are our enemies, I say that this sentence is most true; that we must not take for Doves all that say Peace be unto you, but those aught to be termed dissemblers, rather than flatterers.  Guaz. 
In my mind, you give divers names to one self thing, for so much as flattery is never without feigning.  Annib. 
There is as much difference between those two, as between the general and the special. For it is true that he which flattereth, feigneth: but not on the contrary. And to explain it unto you, behold a fencer, who making at his enemies head, striketh him on the leg, or some where else: you may well say that this fellow dissembleth, but not that he flattereth. And valiant Captains also, do they not deceive the enemy, when they make a show to go one way, and then take another? and are not victories won as well by Stratagems and policies of war, as by force of arms? which kind of counterfeiting is not blamable, but rather commendable. And not only amongst enemies, but amongst friends and acquaintance, colourable dealing is tolerable, in things which are not prejudicial unto them. As if I be requested to go see some Comedy, or some Play, or some such like thing, & that I have no mind to go thither, I will make as though I were ill at ease: or if I would not be known by night, I will disguise myself in some sort. You see then, that dissembling stretcheth to many things, and to divers ends, and that flattery is more strict, and contained under dissimulation, as the special under his general. Wherefore I conclude, that as it is not lawful to dissemble in flattering, for that it is not hurtful to him towards whom it is used, so is it permitted (neither can it be said to be a fault) to dissemble without harm, & without intent to hurt another. I grant well, that he which maketh a show to love one, to the intent to deceive him, or do him wrong, is much too blame, and that the Philosopher counteth him worse than a forger of money, for that there can be no friendship, where there is counterfeiting. But if for civility and good manner sake, I salute one whom I am acquainted withal, without showing any affection towards him, I ought not therefore to be called a dissembler▪ for that I am moved to do him honour, rather in way of courtesy, then of good wil Besides, you know that the world is full of naughty men, whom we justly hate for their imperfections: but it is not good to give them to understand what ill will we bear them. And bethink yourself herein, that many are beloved which are not honoured, as children, who are loved, not honoured of their parents: and contrariwise many are honoured, which are not loved, as some Princes, not well liked of their subjects, or some Magistrates, which are honoured, but not loved of the people: And therefore we cannot oftentimes; nor ought not to fail in civility and courtesy, in respect only of our own duty. For we are bound to * resalute those which salute us, be they our inferiors or equals: If they be princes or magistrates, or our superiors, we ought to do them honour for the reverence due to their estate, if not for affection. I think I have sufficiently showed the difference between feigning, and flattering. Now I say again, returning to flatterers, that they are men of most vile and naughty nature. And though it be a hard matter, as we have said already, to discern a friend from a flatterer, yet we must note, that commonly the greater are flattered by the lesser, and the more they are in prosperity, the more they are beset with flattterers: who always make their repair thither where profit is to be reaped. Whereof it cometh that Princes are ever besieged by these evil spirits: whereupon Carneades used to say, that Prince's sons never learn to do any thing well, but only to ride, for that their governors and teachers seek to please them, and make them believe they are sufficiently seen in things whereof they have no skill at all, which happeneth not in riding their horses, for the horse, which is no flatterer, and which maketh no more account of the great then of the small. throweth them to the ground, if they cannot sit fast in the saddle. And therefore we must beware of such persons, both for that they are hurtful to us, & because god is displeased with them. And I am in doubt whether be the greater offence of him that slanderously reproveth the good, or of him that flatteringly commendeth the evil. I remember I have learned long since, that God is grievously offended to hear one either like to himself discommended, or unlike, commended: & no doubt, but it is a great fault, through flattery to commend for one thing, for which he ought of right to be reproved: which is signified unto us by the sentence. Woe be unto you which call the evil good: These flatterers are resembled to those which put a pillow under our heads, and delicate & soft Feathers under our bodies to make us sleep. Likewise those are in great fault which flatter of purpose to hurt, like as judas did. And therefore it is written, That it is better to be beaten of one's friend, then kissed of his eninimie, to wit, a flatterer: and for the conclusion, to commend that in one which is evil, is the deed of a deceiver, and a very kind of treason. * And therefore the Emperor Sigismond is worthy commendation, who hearing a certain shameless fellow call him God, up with his fist, and gave him a box on the ear, and when he said, why dost thou strike me Emperor? He answered, why dost thou bite me flatterer? *  Guaz. 
For somuch as you have plainly showed unto me how hateful and hurtful these flatterers are, I think good they were scored up amongst the Intolerable.  * Annib. 
Nay, let us set them even cheek by cheek by the evil tongued, upon the seat of the tolerable: and taking both of them as friends, let us take heed of them as enemies: and put upon our head a Helmet to defend our ears from their perilous speeches, remembering that he which willingly listeneth to flatterers, is like to the sheep that giveth the wolf suck: or to him which leadeth by the hand another, who setteth his foot before him to give him a fall. And when you perceive these glozing merchants to praise you, and extol you to the skies, desire them of courtesy to let you remain on earth, saying unto them, that if you stand in need of praise, you will praise yourself: or else do as a certain Gentleman my friend did, who having a great while, and with great patience given ear, to a flatterer which had commended him above the Moon, said unto him in the end, I know not what to do with these praises, for if I reject them, I shall accuse you of flattery, & if I accept them, I shall show myself desirous of vain glory: therefore like good fellows let us part them, give me the one half, take the other to yourself.  Guaz. 
But in discretion the Gentleman ought not to have taken half, but to have forsaken all.  Annib. 
Nay by your leave, he showed great discretion in it, for flattery being always mixed with some part of truth, he was wise to accept the truth, and leave the lies to the flatterer.  * Guaz. 
I like your opinion well touching the repulse we ought to give to such counterfeit praises, but in this point there cometh to my mind a doubt, if I, moved by the good will I bear you, and having fit occasion ministered, give unto you in your presence true and due praise, which you have worthily deserved for some deed of yours, whether it shallbe your part to reject it, or pass it over with silence.  Annib. 
For that silence would be a sign of disdainfulness or lightness. I either with Christian humility would answer you, in referring those praises to God as occasion of all good, or else with a Moral modesty, I would seek somewhat to extenuate my glory, & make you or some other partaker of those praises. In like manner, as Pyrrhus that great Captain did, who being returned from war with speedy and prosperous victory, and hearing his soldiers call him a courageous eagle: answered, If I be an eagle, you are the cause of it, for that with your arms and weapons as it were with feathers you have upholden and sustained me. * But it is time to go out of the conversation of flatterers, and to conclude, that he is happy, which neither flattereth other, nor suffereth himself to be flattered by others: which deceiveth not, nor is deceived: which neither doth ill, nor suffereth ill to be done to him.  Guaz. 
For so much as the friend, and the flatterer have so great conformity together, that hardly one can be known from the other, I would gladly have you instruct me how I ought to behave myself not to be reputed a flatterer.  Annib. 
You must observe therein two things: the one, never to praise a man in his presence, a fault that few can take heed of, not remembering the saying of the Greek Poet: He which speaketh ill of me behind my back, doth me no wrong, he which speaketh well of me before my face, reproacheth me. But for that there are some which will think you either proud or envious, if you praise them not, the other thing to be observed, you must take with them another course, which is, to imitate the dog of Egypt, which drinketh at the river of Nile, and then runneth his way: so you must seem to acknowledge their deserts, & that you will not utter their praises in their presence, for fear to be thought to flatter them, leaving nevertheless this little Sugar in their mouth.  Guaz. 
Have you any other persons of the rank of the tolerable, which are neither to be desired nor avoided.  Annib. 
I have said unto you already, that to the vice of flattery, gainsaying is opposed, and therefore I think good we speak of these contentious fellows, which obstinately withstand the opinions of other, and will never leave till they have the last word, not weighing the disliking or displeasure of others.  Guaz. 
Albeit I cannot abide the qualities and company of such manner of men, yet I remember I have heard a virtuous and noble Gentleman to make good account of them, saying, That those are endued with excellent wits, which can maintain their private opinions against the common opinion of all: and that we hearken unto them with more attention and admiration. And in good sooth, if you should with a long discourse prove unto me that the Sun is clear and hot, you would make me have no great list to listen unto you, for that you should tell me nothing, but that which I know before: but if you will make good that it is obscure and cold, O how you would stir up my spirits, and make me attentive to hear you. It was therefore, that a certain Philosopher hearing that there was one preparing himself to make a speech, in the praise of Hercules, answered, Why? who discommendeth him? Behold on the contrary, with how great pleasure and admiration we read the Paradoxes of divers witty and learned writers, specially the pleasant pamphlets made in praise of the plague, and of the French pox. And if you reply, that this belongeth rather to a fantastical Poet, then to a grave author, I would have you consider, in what estimation the Philosopher Favorine is, only for the fame he hath won, for extolling, with many and singular praises, the quartern Ague: which notwithstanding the Frenchmen wish to their enemies, as the greatest evil which may befall them. And therefore I am of opinion, that in things of most difficulty, consisteth most excellency and admiration. And I see you Philosophers dispute and argue one against another, and hold singular opinions far from the truth: so that the Gentleman of whom I spoke even now, would place these men rather amongst the desirable, than the tolerable.  Annib. 
I think good that whom you have now named, should be put in the row of the desirable and commendable, which deserve not the name of contentious: for though they serve from the truth, yet they have some show of reason in their talk, and beside, they do not think what they say, doing it to no other end, but to show their sharp and good wit, not that they have conceived any such opinion in themselves▪ so that it were great folly to think that Favorine was desirous to have the quartern Ague, and those other writers the Plague. But those whom I call contentious and overthwarters, are for the most part gross headed fellows: and it is an old saying, that the vice of contradiction is proper to men of small discretion: who oppugn the truth, either of ignorance, or of obstinacy: and they are like to Heretics, who being convicted by invincible reasons, yet will yield nothing at all, but reply still to the contrary. Moreover, these contentious companions love to be doing with every one, and yet still go by the worse: and when they are able to maintain Argument no longer by any reason, they enter into a chafe, and seek to get the upper hand by outcries, swearing, threatening, and arrogant demeanour. And some time it happeneth that they meet with men of like nature, whereby even for very trifles they fall to dire debate and strife. Touching that you allege afterwards of Philosophers, I answers you, that it is not only lawful and meet for them to dispute, but also for all other men, when they enter into reasoning amongst themselves, and are of contrary opinions: and he deserveth greatest praise, which defendeth the hardest part, and though they disagree in words, yet they disagree not in love and mutual goodwill, but seek with one accord the truth: not unlike to those which make cords, who though they wind and twist one contrary to the other, yet they thereby accomplish the work they take in hand. But yet disputations have their bounds and limits prescribed, which it is not lawful to pass without losing the name of a Disputer, & getting the title of contentious caviling Sophisters, who many times thereby come to mischief, and by being too earnest in contrarying, have been distraught of their right understanding. And as things, by making them too thin and fine, are soon broken, so by too much contention, the truth is made intricate and doubtful. And therefore those are to be called contentious, who not of purpose to dispute or exercise their wit, but of a contemptuous arrogancy, hold arguments not only repugnant to the truth, but altogether dissonant from reason.  Guaz. 
What do you take to be the occasion of this fault?  Annib. 
Marry a mother with her two children, to wit, ignorance with self love, and vain persuasion: whereof it cometh, that those which know nothing, think they know all things, and hold their ignorance for wisdom.  Guaz. 
In deed the first Chapter of fools, is to esteem themselves wise.  Annib. 
You know it is the easiest thing in the world, for a man to deceive himself: but the wise man admonisheth us, not to be wise in our own conceit, for that such wisdom is called devilish: and verily he which knoweth most, taketh upon him least, and yieldeth to reason. And therefore no marvel though the ignorant people be full of contention. We will then conclude, that to reason without reason, is to take pains to make himself evil thought of, and that these caviling quarrelous merchants are greatly to be blamed, notwithstanding we must be feign to bear with them.  Guaz. 
As you have showed the way how we may defend ourselves against slanderers & flatterers, so I would have you show your mind how we should behave ourselves with these overthwart persons.  Annib. 
When you perceive yourself to prevail nothing by reasoning with your friend, & that there is doubt of some disorder, you ought rather to bow then to break, feeding his humour, if it be not in such a case as silence may breed greater offence. For when a man forsaketh reason, and suffereth himself to be overcome with anger, it is our parts wisely to bear with his imperfection, according to the Proverb, Cut not the fire with the iron: and we must permit sometimes prudency, to give place to timerity.  Guaz. 
I know a Gentleman, who if he chance to fall in company with one of these obstinate fellows, rather than he will stand in contention with him, useth to say: Sir we will never strive about the matter, I am content it shallbe as you say. And as one of them asked him, which eye of the right, or of the left, was able to discern a thing furthest: to take from him all occasion of contention, he answered forthwith, which it shall please you.  Annib. 
Such answers, if they be made in gentle manner, without scoffing, they are very convenient, and they are of force to make the obstinate acknowledge his fault.  Guaz. 
Do you not think we have spoken enough of these manner of men?  Annib. 
I think we may couple with these, some other troublesome fellows, who offend, not by ignorance, but sharpen their wits only to provoke others, who upon every word will make a commentary, and lie in wait to take others in a trip in that they shall say: This fault is peculiar to certain schoolmasters, and other professors of learning, who will oft times shape very new found answers, and now and then propose such doubtful doubts, that are enough to make a dog run a mile without looking behind him. But sometime they meet with mates that dress them in their kind, and yield them the honour which is due unto them. Like as a poor crafty clown served his son, who about every word, would be arguing with him, for having one day nothing but four eggs upon the table for their dinner. The young gentleman (forsooth) to show his wit, would needs undertake to prove that there were seven. for that the three is contained in the number of four, and iiij. and iij. make seven. The father, to avoid strife, took the iiij. eggs, saying: I will eat these, & take you the other iij.  Guaz. 
What resteth now to be spoken of?  Annib. 
We have now to speak of liars, who serve from the truth, for another purpose, and in other sort then the contentious do. And first and foremost, liars are flatterers, dissemblers, boasters, & vain glorious, never ceasing to set forth their own praises, interlacing lies amongst them: a fault though not great, yet which greatly misliketh us. For there is nothing spites us more, then to hear a man commend himself.  Guaz. 
Those are termed household witnesses, who perhaps praise themselves, for lack of good neighbours.  Annib. 
They should do better to spend that time, which they employ in praising, or (to say more truly) in blaming themselves, in getting, by their commendable deeds, true praise, which only proceedeth from praise worthy persons. But they are so far in love with themselves, that they are nothing set by of others: forgetting the saying, That he which washeth his mouth with his own praise, soileth himself with the suds that come of it: and, that praise in a man's own mouth, is spilled. But as the fault of these vain speakers is light, when it hurteth no body, so it is grievous and heinous, when it is prejudicial to others. And amongst many examples which might be alleged, the wickedness of those is not to be concealed, which make boast of their worthy conquests in love matters, bewraying the frailness of some women, to whom they have promised secrecy by a thousand false oaths.  

Which afterwards the winds, disperse amid the air▪   Guaz. 
The oaths of lovers, carry as much credit as the vows of Mariners. But what think you of others, who falsely make their vaunt to have had the use of that woman, to whom they never in their lives spoke word: and seek to spot her with reproach, in such sort, as in old time false the accuserers of innocent Susanna did.  Annib. 
Those which blow forth such blasts, deserve to have their wind stopped with a halter: and those deserve little less, which will lightly believe such lewd tales, and report them again, in such sort, that in short space a most honest woman shallbe most wrongfully taken of the people for a common harlot, I leave it unto you to think what a heart's grief it is to her to be so unjustly slandered. Let us therefore conclude, that all lies, which turn to the hurt or dishonour of others, are devilish and detestable.  Guaz. 
I cannot for my part away with the company of those other liars, which at no time tell truth, though it turn not to the hurt of any.  Annib. 
You have reason, for as he, which plainly telleth the truth, showeth himself to be an honest man, & of noble condition: so he which lieth, doth the act of a slave, & of a disloyal, unjust, & undiscrete person. * And therefore wise men ought to print in their heart the saying of Pythagoras, who being demanded when men did any thing which might make them like to God: answered, when they tell the truth. * And if you mark well the nature of liars, you shall find them to be impudent, and without shame, and therefore well said the Philosopher, That justice resembled a pure virgin, for that the purity thereof is spotted by leasings. And though lying be unseemly for every man, yet is it more tolerable in one of base calling, and who is driven thereto of necessity: And therefore in holy Scripture, a rich man being a liar is greatly reproved.  Guaz. 
There are divers which think to get the name of pleasant conceited fellows, by telling some monstrous strange tale, to make the hearers merry, or cause them to marvel, and crave the Poet's privilege, to use the figure Hyperbole at their pleasure. Like as he, which told that going a hunting, he found a Boor so old, that he was become stark blind, and that another young Boor for very compassion, put his tail into the old ones mouth, & so lead him out to feed: Now he shooting at them, cut of the young Boor's tail, which hung still in the old Boor's mouth, and running quickly, took the tail in his hand, and brought the poor Boor by a long way even unto the City, thinking still that his fellow had lead him.  Annib. 
I think it troubled him more to tell this tale, then to lead the Boor?  Guaz. 
These fellows persuade themselves so earnestly to believe a lie, that they would have you believe it too, and if you do not, they think you misuse them.  Annib. 
It is well done not to believe them, but they do us wrong to force us to believe that which is false, which is nothing else but to give us a gudgeon, and flout us like credulous fools, but in the end they do penance for their fault, for being once known for cogging and lying mates, they are never after credited, though they tell the truth, which this saying showeth.  

The Liar never is believed, although an oath he take,  
the honest ever is believed, although a lie he make.   
I deny not, but that it is commendable to coin a lie at sometime, and in some place, so that it tend to some honest end.  Guaz. 
There cometh to my mind, touching these kinds of lies, a pleasant example, happened in the Court, where I knew a Prince's son, being about twelve years old, who in behaviour and good conditions surpassed all other his equals in the Court, but he had one childish fault, which neither by admonishing, neither by reprehending, neither by threatening, he could be made to leave. Which was this, He would through negligence suffer his nose always to be sneveled, & took no care to wipe it: while his governor took pains to amend this fault, there cometh on a time to this child, to crave his devotion, a poor old man, whose nose by some infirmity was become marvelous great, deformed, full of pimples, precious, & monstrous: the child with a certain fear mixed with compassion, was much moved at it, whereupon his discrete governor began to say unto him, that he had known that poor man a long time, and remembered he had seen him in his youth with a little nose, well fashioned and sound, but that afterward the snivel and filth for want of wiping and making it clean had brought it into that case. The child was put into such a fear by these words, that he began forthwith to spit, and to blow and wipe his nose in such sort, that he never after needed to be put in mind of it. And therefore this lie was profitable to the Prince, and commendable for the governor.  Annib. 
It is very true: and as such liars are to be praised, so the other are to be blamed, and to be registered amongst those which are neither to be desired nor avoided. Besides, there are certain curious fellows to be discommended, which trouble every one in using always this word Wherefore, being desirous to enter too far into other men's matters, which is perchance a fault greater than it is taken for: for there is never any curious person, but he is likewise malicious, and beside, over talkative, playing the tale bearer from one to another, and therefore the Poet blameth him which is inquisitive of that he hath nothing to do withal.  Guaz. 
As I remember I have read of one, who carrying a present under his cloak, and being asked what he carried there: answered, Do you not see how it is of purpose covered, for fear lest you should know it?  Annib. 
I remember I have read the same, and another like thing of king Antigonus, who passing by his army, entered the Tent of Antagoras the Poet, and having found him seething certain fish, said unto him: Do you think that Homer meddled with the seething of fishes while he wrote the deeds of Agamemnon? To whom the Poet answered, Think you that Agamemnon, buzied about the execution of his enterprises, was curious to know whether there were any sodde fish in his Camp? But if curiosity be blamable in worldly affairs, it is detestable in matters of religion: and therefore we are admonished not to seek to know things which belong not to us to know. Now as the curious are neither to be desired nor avoided, so ought we to account of the ambitions.  Guaz. 
Your opinion is then, as far as I see, that ambition bringeth forth evil effects?  Annib. 
Why, who knoweth not that.  Guaz. 
Marry, I for my part see not how it worketh other then good: for that it wakeneth drowsy spirits, driveth away slothfulness, and fearfulness, stirreth up the mind to the understanding of commendable things, and to the executing of courageous enterprises, and heaveth those that follow it, to the high degree of dignity and honour.  Annib 
So long as a man passeth not those bounds, he ought not to be termed ambitious, but courageous, for so much as these same are works commendable, and virtues: but that can not be said of those which proceed naturally of ambition, which altogether bereaveth them of rest, which set no stay to their restless desires: which filleth them full of pensive care, blindeth their understanding, raiseth them aloft, to the intent to throw them down headlong, to break their necks, and bring them to destruction. And thereupon it is said, that Lucifer through pride and ambition fell from heaven, desiring rather to command, then obey. And it is said by an other, That ambition is the cross and torment of the ambitious. And therefore when I said that ambition is the cause of many abuses, I meant not those men, which knowing their own valour, aspire to high enterprises and honours, which by the instinct of nature we all covet: for that honour is the reward of virtue, and counted a divine thing. But my meaning is of the ambitious, who without taking any pain, without doing any thing meet for a noble mind, and without any foundation of desert, seek in company to go before others, and to be placed above others.  Guaz. 
Those in truth are to be detested, and I know some of them, who * at the entering in at the door, or at the sitting down at the table, make haste to set their foot before others, and are very sorry when others usurp over them that foolish pre-eminence: not knowing that the place neither giveth nor taketh away virtue.  Annib. 
Those which do so, perceive themselves little accounted of, and perchance know very well that no body will say unto them, I pray you sir, go before. But it is great glory, and a sign of great desert, when that honour is done to one without striving for it, and it is most certain, that he which setting aside all ambition, humbleth himself beneath others, is of best estimation, and of best education. But women fall chiefly into this vanity, and hereupon there often ariseth amongst them the best sport in the worlds, for none of them being willing to give place, and every one of them being ready to take place, they occupy the way and the upper rooms as it were by force: and withal, you shall often hear amongst them one say, my husband is a Doctor, an other, mine is a Gentleman, an other, I am descended from the Trojans, an other maketh vaunt of her dowry and her jewels, wherewith she boasteth herself to be able to buy the other out of house and home, in such sort, that if the husbands fall to deal in these quarrels, they will never be decided or determined without blows.  Guaz. 
And what think you of the ambition of those men who are never merry, nor in any countenance, but when they have a great train of serving men at their tail: and if they chance to want them, such is their folly, (their fancy I should say) that they will not stir forth of their doors.  Annib. 
That kind of ambition is common to Asses, who in like case will not go before, if they have none to follow them. Of the number of the ambitious, are the haughty and proud, whose company is wonderful hateful, and contrary to our nature, whereto humanity and courtesy is most agreeable. And in my fancy, such people may be resembled to tyrants, which care not though they be hated, so that they may be feared. And therefore this sort of persons never love to humble themselves, fearing that if they should show themselves good fellows, and become mates for every man, they should grow into contempt, so that their reputation thereby might be diminished. But though these fellows take bigly upon them, and are puffed up with pride, yet assure yourself, that their hearts are filled full rather with wind then worthiness.  Guaz. 
O how these glorious fellows are hated of the Frenchmen. Which belike is the cause that they can not brook the Spaniards, who are counted very proud and lofty, especially of those who are not thoroughly acquainted with them. Which I speak, for that I have been in company with some of them, who in show have seemed very lofty, and yet in deed have been very lowly.  Annib. 
It may be, that the Spaniards likewise will not like of the Frenchmen, for their easy acquaintance and sudden familiarity. And in my opinion, between these two extremities, our nation keepeth the mean, where you shall commonly see joined together, a grave kind of courtesy, and a courteous kind of gravity, but those whom I term proud and high minded, offend both in show and in their doings, and they stand always upon their Pantofles, despising every one, and desiring to be honoured of every one. Neither must we look to live familiarly with them, but humbly to do honour unto them, and to offer up incense unto them, as it were to the hallowed Altars: so that it is no marvel if they be odious to all men. Which kind of men, a pleasant writer scoffing at, sayeth, That that meat is unpleasant in taste, which smelleth of the smoke. But what say I, odious to men, seeing God himself hath them in hate, who withstandeth the proud, and showeth mercy to the meek & humble in heart.  Guaz. 
It may be well said of such men, that which the Poet writeth.  

He falls most low, who seeks to climb most high.   Annib. 
Our discourse would be too long, & perchance superfluous, if we should search out one after an other, all which are spotted with this fault, and entreat of the nature and quality of them: And therefore I think good, that we set an end to our discourse in this point.  Guaz. 
There is somewhat yet that sticks in my stomach, for your mind is, that we should fly only the infamous, and those which are notoriously nought, and tolerate the ill, which we have here made mention of: by means whereof, in my opinion, you slack the bridle too much to this Conversation.  Annib. 
I might well answer you, according to the rules of the civilians, that we ought to restrain things which are evil, and set at large things commendable, in which number we presuppose Conversation to be: but I say unto you, that according as I have handled the matter, it is rather restrained then otherwise. For though I have permitted you to tolerate, to wit, neither to seek, neither to shun the above named, who are numberless, yet I gave you not liberty to seek or crave the company of other than the good, who are but few. And whosoever shall observe that order, well he may accompany with many by chance, but with few by choice. And yourself, though by reason of your affairs or other accident, you shall have to deal with divers persons, yet you will like much better, & desire more willingly, the company of one or two, to whom you shall be affectioned for the good parts you know to be in them. Whereby I conclude, that the company which we come into by chance, consisteth of many persons, but that which is voluntary, which we ought to covet, containeth but few folk in it.  Guaz. 
For one doubt which you clear me of, not unlike the Hiders head, there arise seven in that place, and according to that saying, 
At every step, in steppeth a new thought.   
Now tell me a little, if a Harlot or a Bawd, or some such defamed person, shall come in the open street, or in some other public place, to talk with me, will you that without suffering him to meet me, I run away from him, as if he were excommunicated, or had the plague.  Annib. 
It were not meet for you, who are a private person, to give ear unto his words, but for a Magistrate it were not amiss.  Guaz. 
Then he which giveth ear unto him, doth not fly from him, which is repugnant to your first order. And he which flieth not from him, beareth himself indifferently towards the intolerable, and the tolerable: which is likewise contrary to your distinction.  Annib. 
If a Harlot, Ruffian, or other infamous person, should go to the Duke your master, to crave justice, or put up some other honest request, would he drive him out of his presence?  Guaz. 
No.  Annib. 
If he came before him, to talk familiarly with him, would he send him packing out of his sight?  Guaz. 
There is no doubt of it.  Annib. 
By this diversity than you may know, that the intolerable is sometimes tolerable, not in respect of himself, but of the occasion which bringeth him into company.  Guaz. 
I understand you, but yet there arise other doubts, for so much as amongst these tolerable, which we have named, there is found great difference in their imperfections. For the faul●e of a vainglorious boaster, or a contentious overthwarter, is far less than that of a pernicious flatterer, or a malicious slanderer: and yet you put them all in one predicament. Besides, I think it impossible, that he should incline rather to good then to evil, who hath one of these faults. For that one of these is of force, to obscure and deface all the good parts which shall be in him. And therefore in my opinion they are to be put in the number of the intolerable.  Annib. 
We have already concluded, if you remember it, that we ought to admit into our company all those which are not marked in the fare, and which are not commonly holden for defamed, nor excluded out of good and honest company, notwithstanding they be sprinkled with some imperfection.  
But to satisfy you, let me ask you if you knew, in the court of France, men of diverse nation's, as I remember you have already said?  Guaz. 
I know there besides Frenchmen, Spaniards, Englishmen, flemings, almains, Scots, and Italians.  Annib. 
With which of all these were you most often, & most willingly conversant.  Guaz. 
You may well think, that by my will I always got myself into the company of Italians.  Annib. 
But which Italians?  Guaz. 
The lombards.  Annib. 
And amongst the lombards, which made you your choice of?  Guaz. 
Of those of mine own country.  Annib. 
And of those same, which liked you best?  Guaz. 
Those whom I knew most agreeable to my mind, for that as the saying is, like will to like.  Annib. 
It is even so, like as also it is true, that we naturally abhor things, which differ from our nature. Whereof it cometh, that one which is merrily disposed, can not, away with one which is heavily given. One that is dull headed, cannot abide one that is sharp witted: and contrariwise, the merry like of the merry, and the sad of the sad. And therefore we have to consider, that nature hath put upon us two persons, whereof the one is common to all men, in so much as they are partakers of reason, and more excellent than beasts: the other is proper to every one, touching the difference which is seen in the countenance and gesture of the body and in the diversity of the minds, whereof every one tendeth and inclineth not only to some good, but also to some evil. And by that means you see the one offendeth by arrogancy, another by obstinacy, another by misreporting, another by flattering, another by covetousness, another by vainegloriousnes, & you must think that there is not any, in whom there is not some fault or imperfection, either greater or lesser than that which is in ourselves. But forsomuch as at this day we can not find either friends or parents, which are in all points agreeable to our disposition and nature, we must frame ourselves to bear with the imperfections of others and according to the saying, we must love a friend with his imperfection. And for that perfect and virtuous men are rare in the world, with whom we might live to our hearts desire, we ought not to reject the company of any, so that he have in him any show of virtue and goodness. * But to be acceptable in company, we must put of as it were our own fashions and manners, and clothe ourselves with the conditions of others, and imitate them so far as reason will permit. And in some, touching the respect of honesty and virtue, we ought to be always one and the same. But touching the diversity of the persons with whom we shall be conversant, we must alter ourselves into an other: according to that old saying, The heart altogether unlike, and the face altogether like to the people. And he, which shall not frame himself to do this, * shall be driven to curse Conversation, and to pray unto God with the snail (as it is in the Fable) that to avoid ill neighbours and naughty company, he will give him the grace to be able to carry his house about with him. Neither ought any to persuade himself that he is without fault, for I am sure if I should refuse the company of a cavilling contentious fellow, he would perhaps refuse mine for some greater imperfection. And therefore I an● of opinion, that without looking too precisely upon one fault, we ought to admit the company of all those, who in the rest of their works and actions walk uprightly. And it is lawful likewise, sometime to make as though we see not their faults, and that we have a good opinion of them.  
Touching this point, I remember the doings of the Duke of Nevers, who making a feast in this City, committed the charge of inviting the Gentlewomen, to a young man, that was reputed to be very vicious and nought: whereat the Citizens marveled not a little, forsomuch as his excellency was advertised long before of the qualities of this fellow: and hereupon some of the Ladies being in familiar talk, fell to a kind of play, by the privilege whereof, one of them was enjoined to demand of the Duke, why, being so many young Gentlemen in the City of great wisdom and good behaviour, he caused the Gentlewomen to be bidden to the feast, by a dishonest and ill disposed person: to whom he answered, that he was sure the good and he should always well agree together, and therefore he thought it needful by some means to win the good will of the ill.  Guaz. 
I understand you, he meant to imitate him which light his candle before the image of the Devil. Yet in my opinion to favour the ill, is to offend the good: and I marvel how a Prince of so discreet judgement, could make so undiscreet a choice. But I think he did it, as he, who having not long time to sojourn there, sought by all means, to make every one think well of him, after his departure: and like unto the Sun, he would spread the beams of his bounty upon all sorts of persons. But you may assure yourself, he would not have made such a choice in his own Country, where he is not to learn to put a difference between the qualities of his subjects, to lift up the good, and throw down the evil.  Annib. 
I think verily that it is requisite so to do, but I do not think he had any such meaning as you speak of. For wise men of good judgement, his likes take no care to be beloved of the ill, but know that when they are well accounted of by the ill, they are ill thought of by the good.  Guazzo. 
I am verily persuaded, that all men of understanding, bestow great labour to get the good will, yea even of the most wicked: and for my part, by my will, I would not have the ill will of any, whether good or bad. And I pray God to give me the grace to be able to satisfy thoroughly all sorts of persons.  Annib. 
You should then have a special privilege above all other men. But call to mind the old proverb, that jupiter himself pleaseth not all. I never yet hitherunto knew man so good and virtuous, which hath not been subject to the malice and slanders of some one: and I say resolutely unto you, that as not caring to know● what report goeth of you, nor to content any, you shall play but an arrogaunte and proud part: so will you become too scrupulous, and will never be healed of your sickness, if you think to stop every one's mouth: Which were to eat up your heart, as they say. Take heed only to content the good, and never take care what the evil say or think of you: For their injuries can not hurt virtue and innocency. And know you, that the divine Philosopher willeth us to take no care for that, which the multitude reporteth of us, but only for that, which a wise and discreet man giveth out.  Guaz. 
Do you not see, that when a strange Gentleman cometh to visit us at our house, how careful we are to provide that his servants be well entreated? That is for nothing else but for fear lest afterward they make some ill report of us: where we are sure, the masters will content themselves with the entertainment we give them.  Annib. 
I think that servants, being naturally blabs and full of tongue, we do it rather in hope that they will set forth our courtesy, then for fear that they should find fault with our covetousness: and, beside, our good will and courtesy can not be fully showed of us, nor gratefully accepted of the head, if it extend not to the members. You know also, that there are certain masters of that nature, that they love in a manner better the ease and good usage of their servants, then of themselves: And therefore all the good cheer bestowed on them, is in respect of their masters. But howsoever it be, I am resolute in this, that we ought to do well for the love of virtue, and not for the fear of evil report.  Guaz. 
There are some which do well, not for the love of virtue, nor yet for the fear of infamy, but upon a bravery: like as those who at fairs and markets use great liberality, in bestowing fairing on Gentlewomen, and then pinch for it, when they come home in their own houses, and perchance keep from the poor servants their wages.  Annib. 
That liberality is like the match of a Candle, which must needs fail forthwith, and therefore their renown lasteth no longer than the fair. And they may well be compared to certain little beasts called Ephemeres, which are bred near the river of Hyppan in Scythia, whose life lasteth only one day. And me thinks those men make profession to lose their credit at home, to get it abroad: Notwithstanding, when the stinking breath cometh from the stomach, it booteth not much to put some sweet thing in the mouth, to leave there a pleasant smell: for at length the ill savour surmounteth, & it is not possible but the taste of the vessel must be felt. Therefore these may think themselves well enough dealt withal, to be put in the row of the other tolerable. But Gentleman, I have suffered myself to be so far carried away with the pleasantness of your speech, that I never thought how some of that time is slipped away, which I ought to have bestowed in visiting my patients. Seeing then, that we see, that conversation is profitable and necessary, that men of evil life are to be eschewed, the those who wry rather to the good, than the evil, are to be tolerated, and that the good and virtuous are to be desired: I will for this time take my leave of you, & to morrow I will return hither, if it please you, to discourse another hour of the civil and commendable manners of conversation, according to our determination.  Guaz. 
Your return shallbe more grateful unto me, than your departure, and I assure you, this little space between, will seem passing long unto me: go in God's name, and return after, to redouble my comfort.  Annib. 
The comfort will be mutual, for that our love is mutual. Farewell.   
An end of the first Book.   

¶ The second Book of civil conversation, written by M. Steven Guazzo.  
Wherein is discoursed, first of the manner of conversation, meet for all persons, which shall come in any company, out of their own houses, and then of the particular points, which ought to be observed in company between young men, and old, gentlemen, and yeomen, Princes and private persons, learned, and unlearned, citizens, and strangers, religious, and secular, men, and women.  Guazzo. 
I Am not able fully to express (M. Annibal) how long the time of your absence hath seemed unto me, nor how earnestly I have longed for the comfort of your return, by reason of the profitable and pleasant discourses, which this day I hope for at your hands. For me thinks I see * the hand of so great a Philosopher as you are, * to cast a golden net into the large sea of moral Philosophy, to enclose therein, in short time, all the divine precepts which appertain to our life.  Annib. 
Nay look not I pray you for that, for therein you shall but do as the country fellow did, who attended in vain that the river should finish his course, that he might have gone over it. I neither can, neither aught in these discourses to follow the steps of the ancient Philosophers, for albeit their reasons be at this day the same, that they were a thousand year since, yet neither the times, the men, nor the manners are like. I deny not but that there have been amongst us, unjustly brought in, many corrupt customs, repugnant to the laws of Philosophy, but they have by this time taken so deep footing and root, that it is impossible to root them out. For that the world is come to this pass, that it counteth any thing to be lawful, which is delightful. Wherefore if I should endeavour, by precepts and reasons, to reform the abuse of the world, and to reduce it to the virtuous and ancient custom, I should not only lose my labour, but be laughed at for my labour. Now as there are some things, which by reason of the abuse they are grown to, are not to be followed, though they were at first taught us by good and wise masters: so there are many things which of themselves being tolerable, yet either by the necessity of the time, or by the sincerity of our Religion, they are not to be allowed▪ As for example, we do not any more forbid children wine, before they arrive to the age of eighteen years: and the necessity of the time will not let us to let men from marrying until they be six and thirty years old, and maids until they be eighteen: and to fulfil God's commandments, after that man and woman are once joined together by the bond of marriage, they can not any way be loosed, or seek divorce upon every light occasion, as in old time they did, by the consent of the Philosophers: who if they were living at this day, would in many things reform their writings, and conform them to the customs of the present time. And for these reasons we must tread out of the ancient path, and take the way which is beaten at this day. Wherefore you must not marvel, nor lay it to me as a deadly sin, if in the discourse of civil conversation, I entreat rather of matters, which in my opinion are necessary for the present time, then of matters written in Books, and used in time past, and if I speak rather like a mere Citizen, than a Philosopher, without taking any care to get by my discourses those praises and titles which you have given me, which I neither will nor aught to accept, being altogether unfit for me.  Guazzo. 
The humility which you show in this respect doth exalt you higher: yet I dare say this much, that you do yourself wrong, to debase in such sort, the great learning wherewith you are endued, assuring you this, that if I were so little inferior to you in learning, as I know myself to be a great deal, I should exalt myself much more than you do.  Annib. 
If you were so much inferior to me, as I know you to be greater, you should commit a greater fault than I, to attribute so much to yourself. For considering that I come nothing near to that which you think to be in me, you shall offend in arrogancy and vainglory.  Guaz. 
But in my mind, making yourself meaner than you are, you offend in a certain abjectness of mind, or in a kind of dissembling, rather courtlike, than Philosopher like. I think you will not commend those, who having much understanding, stand little or nothing upon it, or being known for worthy men, seek to embase themselves * by bearing false witness against themselves. *  Annib. 
Truly I cannot but blame them: for to dispraise one's self too much, showeth either some secret ambition, or some manifest baseness of mind. And I count no less worthy reprehension, those, who on the contrary, exalting themselves too much, touch (as they say) the firmament with their finger. But I am sure, that in speaking at this present of myself, I have measured my forces, neither have I swerved one jot from the truth.  Guazzo. 
Seeing we are fallen upon this matter, tell me I pray you, if you have any sure remedy, whereby a man may govern and keep himself in the midway, so that he suffer not himself to be hoist up into the air, like a ball full of wind, neither to fall deadly to the ground, as a body without breath.  Annib. 
To find then the skill of Dedalus, and to keep the mid way, you must search out the cause of the faulty extréemes, and that being once known, you shall soon have the remedy you require. Those faults than grow for the most part of solitariness, and for want of experience in the affairs of the world. Which causeth, that into a base mind, there entereth the distrust of his own doings, and the fear of other men's judgement. Contrariwise, that in a noble mind there groweth an over great presumption, which transporteth him with an overweening of himself, and a course account of others. And therefore if these manner of men frequented the company of those who are wise and learned, there is no doubt but that the doings of other men would serve, to the one of them for a spur, and to the other for a bridle.  Guaz. 
There are some doubtless worthy great blame and mockery, who suffer those good parts, which be in them to be drowned in their cold and timorous hearts, in like sort as stones are in the water. And I could name certain eloquent personages, who having to speak in the presence of many, become quite dumb. Some others I have known in like case ready to fall into a sown. Whereby I judge them marvelous unfortunate, that cannot help themselves with those qualities they are endued withal, at such time as they stand in most need of them, and better it were in a manner to be altogether without them.  Annib. 
It cannot be denied, but that those men are infortunate, but let us now consider the arrogancy of those, who being full of presumption, and blinded with the love of themselves, see not their own imperfections, and never care to know what opinion the world hath of them: Which is a sign not only of presumptuous arrogancy, but also of senseless brutishness, whereof ensue many inconveniences, for so much as according to the saying of a wise fellow.  

Great evil is caused by that ignorance,  
which seemeth to itself sapience.   Guaz. 
It is a small fault in my fancy, to desire to be taken to be wise, but the worst is, that we will make ourselves also believe that we are so.  Annib. 
Therefore it is said, that it is the easiest thing of all other, for one to deceive himself: and I remember I have read in the life of Esope, that a great parsonage passing thorough a street where were three slaves to be sold, the one a Grammarian, the other a physician, and the third Esope: first he asked the Grammarian what he could do, who answered, all things: then he asked the physician the like question, who answered as the other did: but coming to Esope, he asked him what he could do, who answered, nothing at all. How happeneth that, sayeth the Gentleman? marry saith Esope, these two here being able to do all things, have left nothing for me to do. Whereby we may see, that those who will not presume to be able to do any thing, know how to do most things, and those who take upon them to know all things, are those which commonly know nothing at all. For so much then as we know, that for want of knowing and being experienced by means of conversation, in the natures, manners, and doings of others, we offend either by arrogancy, or by distrust, you may consequently perceive, that the remedy which you seek to fly those extréemes, and to follow the mean, is civil conversation, and that chief which is practised out of the house, haunting many and divers persons, whereof we have to speak this day.  Guaz. 
I would have thought by those matters we spoke of but now, that you had been far of, from those we are to entreat to day, but I see you have brought me thither before I thought of it: whereat I marvel the more, and I am gladder of it. But before you begin this discourse, I would know whether your meaning be, to propose one form and manner of conversation, which all indifferently should use, or at the least to assign divers sorts, according to the diversity of persons.  Annib. 
As far as I remember, I told you yesterday, and now I tell you again, that I mean to prescribe particularly to every one: For if in conversation all of us should behave ourselves in one sort towards all, we should soon come to the chief point of our purpose. It is very true, there are some general things which every one ought to observe towards every one indifferently, whereof also we will use some speech, but my desire is chief, that we come to consider the divers means which we ought to use, in using company, according to the diversity of persons. Whereby we shall know, that it is not so easy to find one manner of entertainment common to all men, as it is to find a fashion for a Saddle to fit any Horse. And thereby we shall perceive, that as a man of good judgement, such as yourself, writeth not in one self manner and words to his betters, equals, and inferiors, so we in our conversation ought to proceed with the same judgement, to put difference between causes and parties which are not equal.  Guaz. 
If then civil conversation ought to vary according to the variety of the persons, I doubt me lest the rules, which you shall set down, willbe long and hard: for that we are driven by diverse accidents to have to deal with diverse persons, differing in sex, in age, in degree, in conditions, in country, and in nation.  Annib. 
You see in organs diverse pipes, whereof every one giveth a diverse sown, yet they are all proportioned together, and make one only body: in like sort, albeit there be diverse kinds of entertainment and conversation, yet in the end we shall perceive that they agree together in such sort, that they seem in a manner one only sort, and perchance more easy than we think for. Wherefore to make the matter more easy, we will divide conversation into public, which is abroad with strangers: and private, which is at home in the house. And for that both is more than we can dispatch to day, I think it shall suffice for this time to discourse only of public conversation, and the other we will reserve for to morrow.  Guaz. 
I looked that you would first have spoken of this latter, for that by order of nature we begin conversation in the house with those that be of household with us, and after, we learn to converse abroad with others.  Annib. 
When in our yesterdays discourse I proposed unto you conversation, aswell for the health of the mind, as the body, I meant of public conversation, out of which especially the fruits and perfection we have spoken of are gathered, and therefore to day we will speak of that, which concerneth our principal purpose. Returning then to my discourse, I make good, that by means of civil conversation, a man may not only clear himself of cowardly abjection, and vain presumption, but beside, cloth himself with the knowledge of himself. For if you consider it well, the judgement which we have to know ourselves, is not ours, but we borrow it of others: for so much as when we are by divers persons advertised, blamed, reproved, or by signs made more advised for some fault, which we commit either in word or deed, at the length we are content to submit ourselves to the common opinion of all men, & come to acknowledge in ourselves some imperfection, which we endeavour to correct after other men's judgement. And though it be hard to find one that will tell us flatly the truth, yet there is not any (at the least being a private person) so blinded in himself, but if he be faulty any way, by frequenting the company of others, he shall either have occasion offered him to examine his own conscience, and so of himself to find his own fault, or else at one time or another, there shallbe one or other, which if not in way of good will, yet in manner of mockery, or of scorn, or of spite, or by one way or another, will make him to understand his fault. And as these same as it were against their wills are driven to amend their manners and life, so you see many of good judgement, and less overseen in themselves, who, without tarrying until they be reproved of others, are moved of their own proper will, to weigh diligently the sayings, the doings, and the behaviour of others. And as they learn to eschew those things which they see to be unseemly in any, so they endeavour to follow and appropriate to themselves those things which are commendable in others, so that by Conversation they become markers and imitators of wise men, and such as are patterns to be practised by. To be short, they frame themselves to do, to leave, to change, to correct many things according to the judgement of others. But seeing we have already at large discoursed, of the great force, which universal opinions have for the amendment of our life, I will stand no longer upon that point, and seeing we are assured that our judgements, and the knowledge of ourselves, dependeth of the judgement and conversation of many, I will enter to speak of the manner of conversation abroad: wherein, for the reasons and respects we alleged yesterday, I will have regard to the common profit, and specially of those of small understanding, minding not to search thoroughly the moral virtues which every one can not comprehend, but to set forth only the principal points, which are required in this conversation. Neither will I in any wise mount to the top of trees, but satisfying in some part so learned a man as you are, for the rest, I make account to speak to persons of weak capacity, and therefore I will endeavour to present them with such things as are not out of their reach.  Guaz. 
Your discourses shall so much the better content me, by how much the more they shallbe familiar, and such as are meet for the weakness of my understanding.  Annib. 
It is but your modesty to say so. Now coming first to the general points, I am persuaded that the knowledge and contemplation of nature is imperfect in man, if actions be not thereto adjoined. And therefore if to students which live in contemplation, conversation be necessary, it is no doubt much more necessary to those which have no learning at all: Who, that they may not remain as brute beasts, but be known to differ from them, aught to endeavour to learn that at the mouth of another, which by their own study they can not attain unto. Like as then it is reported, that certain people used to dress and heal those that were sick openly in the streets, and being careful of their health, demanded of those which passed by, if they knew any remedy for their diseases: so the solitary man, who is in very deed sick, and bereft of the knowledge which is gotten by the proof of other men's judgement, hath need to seek remedy abroad out of the house. And though perchance he meet with some more sick than himself, and with others perhaps incurable, yet let him not cease to go forward, until such time he find such as are in health to comfort him, and Physicians to heal him. Having respect to the sentence of him which said, Of the wise thou shalt learn to make thyself better, of fools, to make thyself more advised.  Guaz. 
Though men were not induced to go forth of their house and frequent the company of others, for the causes by you alleged, yet I warrant you there want not other spurs, which prick them forward into company, and make them press into places where they see the greatest throng of people: for the desire to maintain and increase their wealth, and to mend their estate, will not suffer men to stand idle with their hands at their girdles, which you shall plainly see, if you once set your foot in the Court of some Prince, where you shall see an infinite number of Courtiers assemble together, to talk and devise of many matters, to understand the news of the death or confiscation of the goods of some one, to seek to obtain of the Prince, either promotions, goods, pardons, exemption, or privilege for themselves or others: and before they will crave such things, to proceed thereto by means, and to practise the favour of the Secretaries, and other Officers. And you shall have there beside, other good fellows, conspiring together, and secretly devising how to bring some Officer into the disfavour of his Prince, that he may be put from his office, and some other placed in his room. And if this be not enough to give you to understand the pleasure which is received by these companies, behold the press of people which heapeth together at the judgement place, as oftentimes it hath been my hap to see in the great Palace of the Parliament of Paris, which sounding with an infinite number of voices, while the plaintiff and the defendant plead, seemeth to be shaken, as it were with an earthquake. But why allege I foreign examples, let us pass only thorough the midst of this City, and we shall see not only on days appointed for travail, but on those also which are consecrated to the honour and service of God, a numberless multitude walking up and down in every place, keeping a continual market, where there is no other talk but of buying and selling, of chopping and changing, of letting and taking money to interest, and in sum, there is bargaining for all things, which are fit to heal the diseases of poverty, and to get the health of riches. And therefore there needeth not much labour to persuade men to love conversation, whereto they are naturally so given.  Annib. 
By this your speech, you have brought to my remembrance a place of Pythagoras, where he said that this world was nothing else but a very market, where there meet three sorts of men, the one to buy, the other to sell, and the third to look on, who (he said) were the Philosophers, whom he counted the happiest of them all.  Guaz. 
In Pythagoras' time belike there were no cutpurses which used the mercates, otherwise he would have put them in amongst the other.  Annib. 
Another used likewise to say, that this world was a stage, we the players which present the Comedy, and the gods, the lookers on, amongst whom belike he comprehended the Philosophers. But for that at this day there are few divine lookers on, and that we which are the players, are in a manner all of us given to play those parts which you have spoken of, I will propose unto you a kind of conversation, not to stand us chief in steed in markets, Comedies, and other outward things subject to fortune, but to the end we may thereby learn good manners and conditions, by means whereof, the gifts of fortune are distributed and conserved, and the favour and good will of others obtained.  Guaz. 
It is your part then to show, how those virtues and conditions may be learned.  Annib. 
Being so, that the solitary person is sick, I prescribe for his health this medicine, that for a long time, he endeavour by conversation to bring to pass, that the revenues of his house be far greater than the expense.  Guaz. 
Marry most men do so: but me thinks in company those which spend freely, are better thought of then those which spare niggardly. And if you call to remembrance, the doings used of old time in Rome, you shall perceive that to gratify, and give to many persons, was a mean whereby the love and good will of the people was gotten, and it served as a ladder, to climb to the highest dignities and promotions.  Annib. 
A wise man being asked, why nature hath given us two ears, and but one tongue: to that end (answered he) that we should hear much, and speak little. That answer gave me occasion, to attribute to the ears, the revenue, and to the tongue, the expense. And to the end I may be better understood, I say, that in conversation, the use of two things is chief requisite, that is, of our tongue, and of our behaviour: wherefore let us consider of those two parts.  Guaz. 
Why will you restrain yourself only to those two parts?  Annib. 
For that if you mark it well, we win chief the friendship and good will of other, by the manner of our speech, and by the quality of our conditions: yea I might in a certain manner reduce all conversation, to that point of manners and behaviour, wherein are likewise comprised our words and speech. But for so much as some part of our talk doth not wholly depend of manners and behaviour, I will speak distinctly of those two points. And to enter into the matter, I say, that like as those which are sick in body, love and lust after those things, which according to the saying of the Poet, 
Are toothsome to the taste, but hindersome to health.   
So the ignorant man of weak understanding, which hath need to keep silence, is marvelously delighted to hear himself speak: and such force hath this fault, that always those which know least, covet to speak most. Seeing then to stay the tongue, and use the ear, are the hardest things that may be▪ it behoveth our patient to frame himself too bridle his appetite, withstanding his own will, and enuring himself by little and little, to keep the mouth more shut, and the ears more open. Which he shall no sooner do, but he shall perceive that in company he shall get the good will and favour of others, aswell by giving ear courteously, as by speaking pleasantly. For we think, they think well of us, which are attentive to our talk, and we see our pleasant speech serveth us to no purpose, if it be not heard of others. Besides, our sick man shall begin by holding his peace, to recover his health, and to be well thought of, of the wise. It was therefore that Pythagoras bound his scholars to keep silence, for the space of three years, considering that by their diligent giving ear unto him, they should be advertised of their own ignorance, and printing in their hearts the profoundness and gravity of his sentences, they should feel the profit of their patience: according to the old saying, That to a diseased mind, the witty words of others serve for a Physician: and in the end they should know, that it is no less admirable, to know how to hold one's peace, then to know how to speak. For, as words well uttered, show eloquence and learning, so silence well kept, showeth prudence and gravity.  Guaz. 
I remember I have heard tell, that one being asked, whether ignorance was the cause of his silence: answered, That it was incident always to the ignorant, not to know how to be silent.  Annib. 
And therefore men of mean wit are the more to be commended, if they speak not much: Whereupon it is said, That it is a piece of wisdom for a man to hide his folly, by holding his tongue: and it is likewise said, That he knoweth enough, who knoweth nothing, if he know how to hold his peace. We will then conclude, * that he who knoweth not how to hold his peace, knoweth not how to speak, * and he that will learn to speak advisedly, must give ear to those which know how to do it, remembering that as hunger and thirst is an emptiness of the body, so is ignorance an emptiness of the mind: and as the body is filled with food, so the mind is fed with understanding: which as we said yesterday, is sooner gotten by hearing one speak, then by reading of books. And therefore he ought to count it no labour to listen to others, nor shame to ask that which he is ignorant in: but he ought rather to imitate that worthy parsonage, who used to say, I question with every man, but I answer no man, for that I know not how to frame a fit answer to anything.  Guaz. 
I am not ignorant that it behoveth one without learning, to speak little, and hear much, and I know that by long observation of the sentences and discourses of others, he must needs learn many things: but now you have taught him the profit he is to make by bridling his tongue, I look you should set him down the charges he is to be at, in speaking.  Annib. 
As money well employed, turneth both to the commodity of him that receiveth it, and likewise of him that disburseth it: so words well considered, bring prefite to the hearer, and praise to the speaker. And as out of one purse are drawn diverse kinds of coin, as of gold, silver, and base metal: so out of the mouth proceed sentences and words of different value. But as it is not lawful to forge or pay out naughty money, so neither is it lawful to invent, or speak that thing which may turn to the prejudice or reproach of others: For by such forgery a man not only shameth himself, but beside, putteth his own life in danger, which together with his death, is in the power of the tongue. Moreover, it is written that * the tongue is a little fire, which kindleth great matters, * and that he which keepeth and represseth his tongue. keepeth his own soul. Wherefore we have to conclude, that he which wisheth to be well spoken of by others, must take heed he speak not ill of others. Therefore let him who hath his tongue in his mouth, be at this point, that though he can not utter grave and delightful speeches, like unto Philosophers and Orators, who are very scant in the world, yet he speak honestly and plainly, as an honest and Christian man ought to do, * remembering always that is better to slip with the foot, then with the tongue. *  Guaz. 
As I think, I have read that a king of Egypt, to prove the judgement of Solon, sent him a beast to sacrifice, enjoining him to choose out that part of the beast which he judged best, and that which he judged worst, to send back unto him. Solon to accomplish the king's hests, sent him only the tongue.  Annib. 
And therefore the tongue is rightly compared to the stern of a ship, which being the least part of it, yet is it of force to save or sink the ship. But of those which put the ship in danger of drowning, and which by the venom of their mischievous tongues procure hurt to others, and blame to themselves, we spoke yesterday sufficiently, in so much that we have already excluded them out of the number of the good and desirable: wherefore those which aspire to the degree of virtue, and which will show themselves worthy to be admitted into civil conversation, aught above all things to have regard that they offend no man with their tongue. But they shall not be quite discharged of their debt, if besides that, they do not with their words, seek to profit and delight their hearers both together, to the end they may reap all the fruit which the tongue can yield: For that the tongue by instructing, conferring, disputing, and discoursing, doth gather, assemble, and join men together with a certain natural bond. He then that will behave himself well in civil conversation, must consider that the tongue is the mirror, and (as it were) the image of his mind. And that like as we know goodness or naughtiness of money, by the sound of it: so by the sound of words, we gather the inward qualities and conditions of the man. And for that we are so much the more esteemed of, by how much our Civility differeth from the nature and fashions of the vulgar sort, it is requisite that we enforce our tongue to make manifest that difference in two principal things: in the pleasant grace, and the profound gravity of words.  Guaz. 
I understand you, your meaning is, that as the poor people spend nothing but liards, and other such like small money, so he whom you speak of, should use no other money but gold, which is the fairest in show, and best in substance. Yet (if I be not deceived) you are contrary to yourself, for you told me not long since, that it was enough to use plain and simple speech, and now you will have him speak with eloquence and wisdom. But seeing you have said that there are amongst us but few Orators and Philosophers, how shall I, and such as I am do, that have no gold to spend, and who can not in company be either Demosthenes or Plato. Is it your mind we shall return to the school, to learn Rhetoric and Philosophy?  Annib. 
I will never unsay, that I have once said, but I make good, that a man ought to proceed in common talk simply and plainly, according as the truth of the matter shall require: notwithstanding, if you consider how in villages, Hamlets, and fields, you shall find many men, who though they lead their life far distant from the graces and Muses (as the proverb is) and come stamping in with their high clouted shoes, yet are of good understanding, whereof they give sufficient testimony by their wise and discreet talk: you cannot deny, but that nature hath given and sowed in us certain seeds of Rhetoric and Philosophy. But for that the more those good parts appear in a man, the better he is accepted in all companies, I would have him aid nature with a little art, and seek to furnish himself with such good gifts, that he make himself place, be desired, honoured, and esteemed in any honest company he shall come in.  Guaz. 
Yea Sir, but take heed least eloquence be not counted natural, by divers worthy persons, yea and it is much misliked of, when it swerveth from the common phrase and form of speech, which we use with wife, children, servants and friends. For that we ought to be content to express our mind without affectation, without pain, and without any pomp: For if any of those be added, it is beside the truth, and showeth a superfluity of words, whose proper office ought to be only to utter our conceived meaning. And in truth, wherefore serve so many perephrases and circumlocutions, so many translations and figures, being able to set forth matters, and touch them briefly, in proper and plain terms. In my mind it may be said, that these professors of eloquence, under the colour of an Orator, play the part of a Poet: and by the feigning of words, show the little plain dealing that is in them.  Annib. 
To make you answer, I must ask you this question, whether you think the men of old time to have spoken better, or these of our time?  Guaz. 
These of this age in my fancy, for that it is easy to beautify and amplify things, when they are once brought in.  Annib. 
I am of your mind, for that in times paste they had not such rules to direct them in speaking, as now adays are set down: they had not such Art and Method, nor such mean to help themselves with Proemes, or by disposing and dividing of their matters, or by proving them by places and arguments: but for all this, you must not think but that our manner of speaking is as natural as theirs was.  Guaz. 
I count it natural, for so much as the rude speech of the country Clown, is as natural to him, as the fine and polished, is to the Citizen and Gentleman.  Annib. 
You see then every thing to be natural, which nature consenteth to have made better and more perfect: and therefore as it is a thing unseemly and unnatural in talk to stray to far from fit and usual matters, so it can not but be commended and said to be natural, when in ones talk to necessary things some what is added, whereby the matter is amended. And for so much as all men naturally endeavour themselves in speech, to persuade and to move, it is certain that a sentence hath so much the more or less force and vigour, according to the difference of persons from whom it cometh, and of the words by which it is uttered. So that our chief labour must be to move the hearts of the hearers: and we must weigh this, that nothing can enter into their hearts, which is not currently spoken, and without offence to the ears: and therefore we must labour to have (as Bias said) a comely grace in holding our peace, and a lively force in speaking.  Guaz. 
If then your meaning be we should move affections, and persuade men's minds with the tongue, you can not choose but you must have recourse to the precepts of rhetoric, which are not for every man's capacity.  Annib. 
I think it neither necessary nor convenient in this place to speak of those precepts, because I will not seem desirous to take the pen out of the hand of those which writ of eloquence, which were nothing else but to seek to take the lightning from jupiter.  Guaz. 
He which can speak by art, as you can, much more easily shall he be able to discourse of art when néed● shall require.  Annib. 
But being not in me to discourse of art, I shall less be able to speak by art. But admit I could do both the one and the other, we have already agreed, not to meddle with those matters which every one can not understand▪ Wherefore touching that point, I will do no otherwise then discrate Physicians are accustomed to do, who having respect to the poverty of some of their Patientes, heal them not with Rhubarb, Manna, or other costly medicines, but in steed thereof, work their cure with herbs and simples, and such remedies as without pain or charge are commonly to be found in every field, house, and Garden. So likewise, the most part of men being sick, and so deprived of understanding, that they are not able to attain to those high and profound secrets, which are as it were in the marrow and pith of the institutions of Rhetoric, we will lay before them those things, which at the least grow about the Bark. For though they be not of great price, yet nevertheless they shall be of great profit to the diseased. I say then, that our tongue shall bring forth words which shall have force to stir up men's minds, and in goodliness and goodness, both they shall represent that gold whereof we have made mention, so that there be a little labour bestowed in the action, gesture, and pronouncing of the words, which hath great force and power in speech. And albeit the orations of Demosthenes are ●ull of eloquence and wit, yet it is said, That in Demosthenes there lacketh the greatest part of Demosthenes: for that they are not lively pronounced, but set down to be read in dead letters. And verily I have known many so delightful in their discourses, notwithstanding they have been vain and to small purpose, that by the sweet and pleasant delivery and pronouncing of their speech, they have gotten the commendation to be able to speak very well.  Guaz. 
Many Courtiers carry that little piece of sugar in their mouths, and it may be said, that their money seemeth to be Gold, although in the touch it is found to be silver, or base metal. But I am of opinion in this, that we suffer our ears to be too much tickled, whereby we give wrong judgement of the matter, being more attentive to the sound of the words, then to the weight of the sentences, giving the title of Orator, to such a one as is but a brabbler, and altogether without learning.  Annib. 
I am fully of your mind, and thereof it cometh, that many times certain verses like us very well, and seem to be set forth with all the pleasant vain of Poetry, when we hear some tumbler or Dancer sing them to the Harp, but if you come to read, them afterwards, you will think them sottish & vain. The like befalleth to many others, who in speaking are very well liked of, and no fault to be found in them, but let them come to writing any thing, and they are no body. But that we have no marvel hereof, I must say unto you, that those same persons are not in deed eloquent, but that all their force and virtue lieth in the sweet delivery of their words, which though they be neither well placed, neither very pithy or sententious, yet they make to the ears and the mind a most delightful Harmony, which possesseth us in such sort, that we neither search after, nor desire for any thing beside.  Guaz. 
Then it is no marvel on the contrary, that many know how to use pure and fine filled speech, and yet want the gift of pronunciation, which is so ill in them, that thereby their words lose their grace and authority. But for so much as this part of action hath force to make men esteemed of above their deserts, I should be very glad if you would show me wherein consisteth this virtue.  Annib. 
Seeing the other good parts, which are in you, are accompanied with this same also, I can not believe but you know well enough by what means you have gotten it.  Guaz. 
I know not how I may believe, that you believe so, for I know that I never learned any precept of Rhetoric.  Annib. 
You are the more happy to have attained to that without travail, which others can not come to, with much study.  Guaz. 
Do you not know that he is not happy, which doth not know himself to be happy.  Annib. 
Though you are ignorant of the parts of this action, yet you know in yourself the gift of good delivery of speech, and that you possess that gift. And for my part I confess unto you, I have not bestowed much study about those points. But if your pleasure be, that we shall rove at them, perchance we shall come near the mark of the Authors of Rhetoric.  Guaz. 
Even as it shall please you.  Annib. 
I consider first of all, that the first part of action consisteth in the voice, which ought to measure it forces, and to moderate itself in such sort, that though it strain itself somewhat, yet it offend not the ears by a raw and harsh sound, like as of strings of instruments when they break, or when they are ill stricken.  Guaz. 
To say the truth, that is the pronunciation of the most part of our Monferins, and much more of those of Piemount, who with the shrillness of their words go thorough ones ears.  Annib. 
Yet we must take heed we speak not so softly that we can scarce be heard.  Guaz. 
That is the voice of Hypocrites, and our holy Ankers, who seem to speak with the mouth of death.  Annib. 
next, we must take heed to bring forth our words distinctly, and to separate the syllables: marry in such sort that we set not forth every letter, as little children do when they learn to read, which is a very unpleasant hearing.  Guaz. 
The people of Verona and Venice, seem to err in that.  Annib. 
But on the other side, it is not meet to utterous words in such haste, that like meat, in the mouth of one almost starved, they be swallowed down without chewing  Guaz 
It is used of the Genoese and those of Cor●a.  Annib. 
And therefore it is necessary to use a mean, that the pronunciation be neither too swift nor too flow. But we must take heed above all things, that the last syllables be heard plainly, lest we fall into the fault of some, who suffer the last letters to die between their teeth. Like as he who for fear to say amiss, durst bring forth neither Tempum nor Tempus, but Tempt, and therefore we must speak freely, without supping up our words, and bringing them but half forth.  Guaz. 
Lovers commonly use such uncertain and broken speeches.  Annib. 
We must likewise take heed we speak not out of the throat, like one that hath some meat in his mouth which is too hot, or else is almost choked with the rheum.  Guaz. 
This is the imperfection of the Florentines and those of Luqua: who have their throats full of aspirations.  Annib. 
Some others offend as much, who opening their mouth too much, fill it with wind, and make the words resowne within, as an Echo doth in Caves and hollow places.  Guaz. 
As I think, that is the natural custom of those of Mantua and Cremona, wherein those of Naples also keep them company.  Annib. 
Lastly, the voice must be neither faint like one that is sick, or like a beggar: neither shrill nor loud like a crier, or like a schoolmaster, which doth dictate or rehearse to his scholars some theme or epistle. For it would be said, as it was said to one, If thou singest, thou singest ill, if thou readest, thou singest.  Guaz. 
I do not think for all that, you would have us in speaking use always one tune and measure.  Annib. 
No verily, for the pleasure of speech, so well as of Music, proceedeth of the change of the voice, yea, (to end this talk) I would have you know, that as we sometimes stand, sometimes walk, sometimes sit, without continuing long in either of them, so the change of the voice, * like an instrument of divers strings, * is very acceptable, and easeth both the hearer and the speaker: and yet we must see that this change be made with discretion in time & place, according to the quality of the words, and the diversity of the sentences and sayings.  Guaz. 
As far as I see, you have nothing else to say touching this action.  Annib. 
No more touching the voice, but there is an other part, which pertaineth to the gesture, whereof perchance it were better to say nothing, then speak too little, for that there belong unto it so many circumstances, that for my part I am not able to rehearse them.  Guaz. 
It is much in my opinion to keep a certain majesty in the gesture, which speaketh as it were by using silence, and constraineth as it were by way of commandment, the hearers to have it in admiration and reverence.  Annib. 
Yet herein is required such a moderation, that a man with too little be not immovable like an image, neither with too much, too busy like an Ape: and as the one stirring no part, thinking to get the opinion of gravity, incurreth the suspicion of folly, and is taken for a feigned person, brought in to speak, having of himself no life, so the other by the liberty of his gestures, thinking to use a plausible kind of courtesy, whereby to win favour, speaketh a playerlike kind of lightness, whereby he getteth discommendation. I will not in this place advise him that speaketh to hold his head upright, to take heed of licking or biting the lips, and to see the words agree to the gesture, as the dance doth to the sown of the instrument: neither likewise do I think it meet to admonish the hearer to take heed of rude lowtishe looks, of wrying the body aside, of too set a gravity in looks, of too sour a countenance, of gazing about him, of whispering in any others ear, of laughing without occasion, of gaping too wide, of showing himself grieved at the speakers words, and of all those things whereby you may either amaze him that speaketh, or else seem to be weary of his talk. I will not, I say, speak of these things, for I should but make a recital of Galatee, and those books, which the moral Philosophers and rhetoricians have written upon this matter. These are things which are learned, not so much by reading, as by using company, for when an other speaketh, we mark what liketh and what disliketh, and by that we know what we ought to avoid and what to follow: as when we ourselves speak, and that we see some of the hearers little attentive, or some other way to use some ill behaviour, we learn by his incivility how we ought to behave ourselves in hearing others. It shall suffice then to say for this time, that touching this action, we must frame all the body in such sort, that it seem neither to be of one whole immovable lump, neither yet to be altogether loosely disjointed.  Guaz. 
That is, we must imitate those which neither Saintlike are too ceremonious, neither jugglerlike are too quick and too full of action.  Annib. 
just. But above all, it behoveth him, which by his action is willing to move an either, to feel first some motions in himself, and to draw forth the affections of his heart, in such sort, that the hearers seeing them show without the eyes, may be moved by the very countenance of him that speaketh.  Guaz. 
This same in my judgement is one of the best and necessariest advertisements which you have hitherunto given: for that the end of the speaker, being to stir up the affections of others, he ought to take pain in it. And it can not be that you should be sorrowful for my mishap, if while I recount it unto you, you perceive not me to be sorrowful Neither can I possibly wring the tears from your eyes, unless I first wipe them from mine own. To be short, one thing can not give to an other that which itself hath not. And I say again, that this is a notable precept: whereby you put me in mind of some persons whom I know happily endowed with this gift. And amongst other, my Lord the most reverend Archbishop of Thurin, Seigneur Hierosme de la Rovere, who, by his learning eloquence, good conversation and godly life, began even from his infancy to make all men have him in admiration, and to be very well thought of in all companies he cometh in, and yet he is become so expert in this action, which you have proposed, that not only by his sweet, filled, grave, and distinct words: but also by the windows of his eyes, by the clearness of his countenance, and by the séemelynesse of his gestures, he doth so open within his commendable affections, that on the one side, and the other, he carrieth away men's hearts whither it pleaseth him.  Annib. 
You see then, that the inward action ought to Go before the outward, so that the sound of the words, and the motions of the body, be thrust forward by the affections of the heart. * And of all this our discourse, we may gather this, that there is aswell eloquence of body, as of mind, and that many are counted eloquent, for some or for only one part of Rhetoric, which is justified by the example of Apuleius, who was judged most eloquent, for his countenance, gesture, and comely moving of the body, with the which good parts, he more alured his auditors, then with copy of words. It is said further, that Hortensius took more pains in trimming up his body, then in framing of his speech: so that it was doubtful whether men ran rather to behold him, then to hear him. So great agreement is there between the words and the countenance, and the countenance and the words. * Now for somuch as we have said, and concluded, as much as is sufficient touching the tongue, it is requisite we come to those parts which consist in manners: and as hitherto we have entreated of the beauty of gold, now we must consider of the value of it.  Guaz. 
You have in few words so well satisfied me touching Action, that now you make me desirous to hear some other point touching talk. And as that which you have hither unto said, concerneth only the pronunciation of words, and the gestures of the body, so I would be very glad it might now please you to speak of those points, which appertain to the ornament and bewtifiing of speech: which discourse will not exceed the capacity of men of mean understanding.  Annib. 
I have already told you that we must not climb up that great tree, to gather the fruits which are on the top of it, for that we shall have much to do to get thither, and few there be that will be able to follow us: and we ought to think ourselves well, that we have reached with our hands, those few leaves, and flowers which hang over our head. And for that the chiefest virtue is to abstain from vice, I first admonish him, which taketh pleasure in civil conversation, to eschew all things which make the talk less delightful to the hearers: as, to use more briefness than is requisite, for the plain setting forth of the matter he hath undertaken to speak of, which troubleth much the hearers. For as if they were judicially to examine an offender, they shall be driven by continual demands forcibly to wring forth of his mouth those things, which (to explain the matter thoroughly) he ought to utter without ask. But on the other side, he must not use superfluous words, nor be tedious to his hearers with long Prefaces, and other impertinent circumstances besides the matter, which showeth him a vain trifler, without judgement, and maketh him nothing acceptable to his Auditors.  Guaz. 
By many words many imperfections are discovered, and as a wise man said, If to have the tongue still walking and jabber were a sign of wisdom, the Swallows might verily be said to be more sage than us.  Annib. 
* Thereupon it is that the lawmaker, being asked why he ordained so few laws for the Lacedæmonians: Answered, that a few laws were enough for those that used but few words. * But those which use variety, and entreat of divers matters, though they use many words, yet they weary not their hearers, so much as those do, who according to the Proverb, Make of the fly, an Elephant, and of a matter of nothing, a long tale, * which Agesilaus finding fault with, said he liked not of that Shoemaker, which made a great shoe for a little foot. * There are many other imperfections of speech, which I will not rehearse, for that he which giveth attentive ear, shall be well able to discern, and know them in him who speaketh ill. I will say that amongst other faults, there is one common to the most part of men, who by negligence use to repeat some one word very often▪ and some there are, who speaking by the mouth of another, rehearse often this (saith he) which is very unseemly. Another at the beginning of every sentence, cometh in with (now Sir): and some there are, who when they will not or can not signify things by their proper names, in steed thereof say (what shall I call it.)  Guaz. 
The first fault of these last rehearsed, is very unseemly for him which speaketh, but much more for him which writeth, and I have noted, that many having some special affection to some word, or to some manner of speech, have sowed it in a thousand places, and in every leaf of their book could not refrain from continual repetition of the same words, or phrases of speech. And therefore there are, which say, the writings of Bembo would have better grace, if these words (Paeventenole, fortunevole, and such like) were not so often inserted in them, which gave occasion to the Cardinal Farnese to say jestingly, as he beheld a house at Bologne, built with many windows, Questa casa secundo il Bembo é molto fenestrevole.  Annib. 
We must in our talk take heed of those faults, and others such like, other advertisements which I can at this time give, touching the commendable points in talk, are that every one endeavour to express the things whereof he speaketh, so plainly, that he maketh them seen and touched, as it were with the finger, using words proper, significant, and of efficacy.  Guaz. 
I count him most happy which hath that grace, and I know some Gentlemen so marvelous in that point, that they will force their hearers, to receive pleasure and dolour, to laugh and weep, according to the quality of their discourses: by the which (like Orphee and Amphion) they will draw them whither pleaseth them. But I know not whether you have marked some, who on the other side, labouring to speak plainly and effectually, become more obscure and less delightful, whereby it cometh to pass, which is said, that by too much spurring, the horse is made dull.  Annib. 
That fault cometh of affectation, which is above all things to be avoided, as a thing odious and fruitless: & you know well that to those which give ear to their own words, it happeneth as to those, who the more they force themselves to behold the Sun, the more they make their eyes run on water: And therefore it behoveth every one to measure his forces, and to know that a man ought to speak no better than he can.  Guaz. 
I have tried in myself that to be most true which you say, and I have noted some, who the more they strived to show themselves, the more did they overthrow themselves, verifying the saying of the Poet.  

He which will climb too high,  
doth seek to catch a fall:  
What God hath given to man, let him  
content himself withal.   Annib. 
Moreover, sometimes such matters come in talk, wherein negligent carelessness in words, is more acceptable than diligent curiousness: and now and then common and familiar words, set forth the matters which are handled, far better than Tragical and stately words do. I maintain not for all this, that a man need take no care how he speaketh: for it is a thing as blame worthy to speak dissolutely, as to speak difficultly: and it is as great a fault in common and known matters to use curious affectation, as it is in great and weighty matters to show himself negligent, and void of consideration. Wherefore a man of good judgement will know how to fly these extremes, and to use in time and place, words and sentences, either more or less grave, according to the diversity of places, times, matters, & persons, to whom he shall speak: which likewise writers use to observe in their works. But in any wise I advise him to bestow more pain about the sense, than the words: for that most commonly in busying his brain about the vain pomp of words, he doth not conceive the matter so well, nor contrive it in such order, as he ought to do: and with Aesop's Dog, letteth fall the flesh, to catch the shadow. And we must make account, that as the guest feedeth not himself with the smoke of the meat, nor the Host payeth himself with the sown of the money, so the hearer, doth not content himself only with the smoke or sown of goodly words. To be short, goodly words without good sense, are not words, but rather trifles.  Guaz. 
* I think there are few able to attain to the excellency of Fotion, who is said to use few words, containing in them much matter: as if he should compare words to money, which is so much the more esteemed, by how much lesser it is in quantity, and greater in value.  Annib. 
This is, no doubt, a rare and singular gift, but he which cannot attain to it, aught at the least to know, that unpolished wisdom is more commended, then flourishing filled speech, void of wit. And as in money we do not chief consider the form, and the stamp, but the weight, and the matter whereof it is made, so in speech we ought not to look so much to the grace and finesse of it, as to the gravity and goodness of it. * And for that there are many which are of very good devise, who in words are not able well and readily to empress it, I would wish him, which in civil conversation seeketh to win favour and commodity, that having not himself learned of Orators, the places from whence are drawn the variety and copy of words, figures, and elocution; whereby the speech is beautified and set forth▪ at the least he diligently give ear to the words of others, and think with himself, that there is not any so fond, or so barren in his speech, but that sometime he saith something worthy of memory, which ought to gather as a rose amongst thorns, and lay it up for his own use. And albeit these same ornaments and flowers of speech grow up chief in the learned, yet you see that nature maketh some of them to flourish even amongst the common sort, unknowing unto them: and you shall see artificers, and others of low estate, to apply fitly to their purpose in due time and place, Sentences, pleasant jests, Fables, Allegories, Similitudes, proverbs, counts, and other delightful speech, varying from the common form of talk, which hath no small force to content the hearers. And therefore as we have said already, it is needful to aid ourselves with a little Art. For to set down things always in those bare and simple 〈◊〉, which our mother hath taught us, and to follow ever their plain property, doth but weary the hearer, who on the contrary, is recreated and delighted with variety, & those figurative speeches, which are not common to every one. And though it be more than I need to do, to illustre this, which I have spoken with examples, yet (more to satisfy myself than you) I will rehearse one. He which in words and outward show pretendeth us great good will, and in his heart wisheth and worketh us ill, may be signified, and set forth by us with this only word (Dissembler) yet you shall hear some fine head (refusing to use that common word, which very infants understand) which will term him a wolf clothed in a sheeps skin. Another will say, that in the likeness of a Dove, he carrieth the tail of a Scorpion: or, that he hath Honey in his mouth, and a Razor at his girdle. Another will call him a painted Sepulchre, sugared pills, or gilted copper. Another will say, he maketh show of the cup, but giveth blows of the cudgel: or, that he weepeth over his Stepmothers grave. Some will cry, beware your legs, or will say, that he offereth you bread with one hand, and throweth a stone at you with another.  Guaz. 
A man may also apply unto the verse of the Poet▪  

That in the fairest flowers and grass,  
the serpent most doth lurk.   Annib. 
We may then thereby know, that to trim up our speech, and to go an ace beyond the common sort, it is good to accustom ourselves to those pretty and pleasant kind of speeches.  Guaz. 
We must not then blame the diligent industry of some, who like unto Bees, gather honey of divers flowers: and not suffering one word, sentence, or merry jest, spoken by others, to fall to the ground, writ them in their tables, to the intent to use them themselves afterwards either in speaking or writing.  Annib. 
I rather commend them, for that it is the way to get reputation with little charge, and I likewise commend those, who to store themselves more plentifully, read comedies and other posies, from which they fetch many things to the same effect.  Guaz. 
Here it cometh in my head to sell you, that above all (in my judgement,) they are best liked of in company, to whom God hath given the grace to be able to discourse well & readily of every thing. For as the spring time doth marvelously delight the eyes with the sundry sorts of flowers which it bringeth forth, so these same by the diversity & variety of their discourse, give wonderful refreshment to our minds.  Annib. 
* I count those, which will undertake to speak of every matter, rather venturous then learned: and I have known some young men so greedy of knowledge, that they have devoured all sorts of books without chewing them, and according to the nature of cold stomachs, which desire more than they are able to digest▪ have crammed in great abundance of learning, which for lack of good digestion yieldeth no nourishment: and while they have gone about, being amongst learned men to seem at one time Orators, Poets, Philosophers, and Divines, they have scarce showed themselves sufficient grammarians. And therefore you must think, that though they commonly make men have them in admiration, and take delight in their company, yet they are confused in themselves, and altogether without order, not unlike a painter's apron, which you shall see spotted by chance with all kind of colours. And this their learning, more diverse than deep, may in deed (as you say) be likened to the flowers of spring time, * for that it is not come to Automne, neither hath gathered the ripe fruits of the right sciences: every one of which will ask the study of a man's whole life. So that it is a matter impossible for any man to discourse perfectly of every thing, and we may say, that these men follow the Poet in that verse.  

I holding nothing fast, of all things fasten hold.   
Which is likewise agreeable to the Proverb, That he is not any where, who is every where. Yet for my part, I do not reprehend these men, but rather commend them, as well for that they have not aspired hereto without study, or at least without frequenting the company of the learned, as also for that * by those their mingle mangles, * they win the liking and good opinion of a great many that they shall come in company withal *. But I will say thus much unto you, that is a most commendable course for a prince to take, whom perchance it better beseemeth to have superficial sight in diverse languages and sciences, then to be deeply seen in one only. For many people of diverse nations and professions, having many important occasions of dealing with him in person, it seemeth meet for his majesty (not so much for an ornament to himself, as universal benefit) to have of all things, if it be possible, a certain superficial knowledge. Provided always, that his principal care and study be to govern and rule his subjects, as he ought to do: that it may not be said of him, as of Nero, who was very desirous (though he nothing deserved it) to be counted an excellent musician: whereupon it was said that he was every other thing more than a musician, and yet more a musician then a prince. But for private persons, I am flat of this opinion, * that he which seeketh to reach the very top and type of glory, must rather get him down to the root of some one science only, then gather here and there the fading flowers of many, * remembering always this saying: That to ●unne over divers things slightly, delighteth: but to read over few things advisedly, profiteth.  Guaz. 
I perceive by you, you are desirous to come to other matters: yet I beseech you to clear me of one doubt more touching the tongue, and to show me whether you think good, that every one use the common language of his own Country, or else affect the Tuscan tongue, as the better and finer.  Annib. 
You drive me to speak of a matter, wherein swerving some what from the opinion of others, I shall perchance purchase to myself the title of arrogancy: nevertheless; I consider that the variety of opinions, which have any ground of reason, cannot justly be misliked. And therefore as you shall do me no wrong to gainsay that which I say unto you, seeing it cometh not from the Oracle of Apollo, so I think I shall not any way injury others, if I now freely say unto you, that I have always been of opinion, that every one speak according to the manner of his own country: which, who so leaveth, to take up any other fashion of speech, is no less to blame than they which renounce, and refuse the Country itself. For it is to be considered, that after the first confusion of tongues, many sorts of languages have by the divine power of GOD remained in the world: whereby not only one Nation was known from another, but also one Country, one City, one village, and (which is more) one street from another.  Guaz. 
I think verily that it cannot be said with reason, that I leave my country, but rather that I love it, & am careful for it, deserving to be well thought of of every one, if I endeavour in speaking to avoid the gross rudeness of the Montferrat tongue, to reduce and conform it to the purity of the Tuscan tongue, and to stir up others to follow me, so that it may become our own proper language.  Annib. 
So long as you shall betake yourself to that manner of speech, and no man else take it up, your language shall not merit the name and title of Country language, but rather of foreign, and you shall rather be mocked for it, then commended. But if you alone could bring to pass (which seemeth to me a matter impossible) that the amendment and refourmation by you introduced, might be allowed and followed by others, than no doubt but you should deserve commendation of every one. For then that language should be no longer strange, but our own properly: whereof certain new fashions in apparel, taken up not long since, give us an example▪ which coming from Spaniards, and other Strangers, are at this day made our own by propriety, which falleth out likewise in speech. For not only this our corrupt language of Montferrat, but even the Tuscan tongue likewise hath received certain words (as you know better than I) both French and Pe●uenciall, and hath so well appropied them, that they are taken for Tuscan. And who knoweth not that by reason of the concourse of the Mantuans hither, within this little while we have given course to certain speeches, words, and accents come from them, which leaping from mouth to mouth, at length are made common to every man? Whereby like fishes coming from the river Garda or Mince, they swim in great abundance into this river. And we shall see also hereafter, that the diversity of people, which is come to place themselves in this City, will, by the mixture of so many tongues, have changed in divers words, the speech used at this day.  Guaz. 
Then your meaning is, that I ought to speak after the abuse of our country.  Annib. 
Yea in deed is it.  Guaz. 
To what end then have I bestowed labour in the Tuscan tongue?  Annib. 
Marry to this purpose, to set down well in writing, but your own mind, and the will and pleasure of the Prince your Master.  Guaz. 
If it be lawful for me to write Tuscan like, why shall it not be lawful likewise for me to speak Tuscan like?  Annib. 
For that all men commonly delight to write, as men ought to do, and to speak as men use to do: and though they bind them themselves to a right order in writing, yet they are content in speaking to follow the common usage.  Guaz. 
If you did mark, as I have done, the delight which these Citizens take to hear Senior Mola the Precedent speak the right Tuscan tongue, sweetened with the pleasant Roman tongue, I am sure, you would allow me and other also to speak the Tuscan tongue.  Annib. 
That which beseemeth him, were unseemly for you, and in using it, you should make yourself as much misliked, as he is liked. For he hath remained in those parts long time, even from his youth, where he hath learned the language in such sort, that it cannot be said, that in his house he speaketh a strange or affected language: which would be said of you, who having made no abode in those same Countries, you cannot excuse yourself, that by long use you cannot speak otherwise: whereby you must think that he speaketh so of necessity, where you should speak upon pleasure, to content your own fancy, or else upon a bravery, to show your skill. And like as it is reported, that while the ginger made a discourse of the movings of the celestial Spheres, and cou●se of the stars, a Philosopher interrupting him, scoffingly demanded of him, how long it was since he came from heaven: so a man might ask you, how long it is since you returned from Tuscan, and what is the news of those parts.  Guaz. 
Seeing you will not suffer me to speak Tuscan, but think best I should follow our own country language, I will frame myself to speak as the common people doth.  Annib. 
So shall you commit a fault unseemly for so wise a Gentleman as you are, and you shall therein imitate some of our Citizens, who coveting to be counted pleasant fellows, take delight in counterfeiting to speak clownishly, whereof it cometh to pass, that coming afterwards into the company of grave persons, they are not able to refrain those follies, and so show themselves rustical, and uncivil in their speech.  Guaz. 
If you forbidden me both foreign speech, and my own natural language also, I know not how I shall speak, me thinks by you, that you mean to tie my tongue.  Annib. 
I do not prohibit you to speak in your natural and mother tongue, but I would not have you use improper and unfit speeches.  Guaz. 
The more a Tuscan speaketh Tuscan like, shall he not be the more commended?  Annib. 
Yes marry shall he.  Guaz. 
By the same reason, the more I shall speak● Montferrat like, the more praise I shall merit.  Annib. 
The same reason cannot hold in things which are unlike, like as these two tongues are. For the Tuscan is perfect, and ours imperfect: so that of good things we ought always to choose the best, and of evil, to leave the worst.  Guaz. 
If I ought to avoid the worst words in our tongue, I must be feign to put Tuscan words in their steed, which doing, I shall make the hearers to laugh at me, for making such a mingle mangle of Lombarde and Tuscan words together. And for my part, I would think it better to speak one tongue, altogether our own, or altogether Bergamasque, then to speak a language so divers, and mingled of the Tuscan, and our own, which joined together, have that grace which Dan● showeth, when he saith: 
Non credo qui per terra andasse anchoi.   Annib. 
I think you have noted three sorts of garments, which are used at this day, whereof some are of one only colour, like unto Crows or Swans, some of divers colours, like unto Pies or Parrots, wherein you see the colours divided, and separated: some are of silk or wool, of divers colours, so well incorporated and mingled together, that it is not possible to discern the one colour from the other, like unto the feathers of Partridges, or of certain Pigeons, whose colour is so confused and changeable, that a man cannot say what colour they are of. The very same differences are found in speech, for that some use simple speech, consisting of the tongue only, some compound of two or three divers tongues, some mingled and changeable. And I am of this mind, that this mingled kind of speech ought to be permitted to most men, that simple kind to few, but that divers kind, to none at all. Now these only aught to use that simple kind of speech, whose language is perfect, and polished, and all one in speaking and writing. But those aught to use the mixed kind, whose mother tongue is rude and unperfect, like as ours is. But those err much which speak in divers sorts, using sometime words which are stark nought, & sometime those which are excellent good, like as Dant did, ending that Tuscan verse before rehearsed, with a rude word of Lombardy, which in respect of the other words, resembleth a piece of course cloth set upon a velvet garment.  Guaz. 
That Poet is to be excused, for that in his time his tongue was not come to that perfection that now it is of.  Annib. 
In deed in that respect he is to be excused, and beside, when the necessity of the rhyme did not drive him to it, he used oftener Hoggis, than Anchoi. Moreover, entreating of high and weighty matters, he bent himself rather to profit those which should read him, then to delight them. And you may well consider that when the mind traveleth in deep and hard matters, it cannot be curious in the choice of words.  Guaz. 
You say well, but I am of this mind, that the making of rhyme, should not make a Poet use naughty words.  Annib. 
Albeit it be a fault, yet it is much less than that which certain Poets at this day commit, who take no care how the sentences hang together, so that the rhyme fall right: putting in such fond devices, so far from the expectation of the discreet Reader, that they make him readier to laugh at them, then to learn them. Like as an ignorant Ass some time did, who as your brother told the other day in the Academy, ended the first verse of a Sonnet, with this word Ersiglia, and to rhyme with that in the fourth verse, he put Vriglia, and in the next following Striglia. And lastly, not knowing how to rhyme up the other quaternary, he botched it up with una caviglia. Whereby we may gather, that if the fault in words be venial, the fault in sentence and matter is mortal.  Guaz. 
Seeing you neither allow my simple speech, nor divers, but will have me use only mingled and changeable, it is requisite, if it so please you, that you lay before me the way to mix this changeable language, in such sort, that the division and parting of the colours be not perceived.  Annib. 
As in changeable silk and cloth, there is ever some one colour that showeth more lively than the rest: so to fashion this mixed speech, it is necessary that the natural language be chief set forth, in such discrete sort as you do. For you dip somewhat the Pencil of your tongue in the fresh and clear colour of the Tuscan tongue. Whereby you shadewe the stained spots of our mother tongue, marry yet so lightly that your speech is always known for Lombard.  Guaz. 
As I remember, there was a Philosopher, who speaking of the mingling, and effects of divers colours, saith, that by mingling together white and black, brown is made: so your meaning is belike, that I speak neither Lombard nor Tuscan, but some hodge-podge of both.  Annib. 
In making this brown colour, you make yourself show bright: and in confounding these tongues, you show yourself to be of good judgement. And for that examples explain things more plainly, I will tell you that I have noted how, in this mixture, you have utterly razed these words, il moizo la feia la Sgroglia, and other such like corrupt words (which are proper not only to some poor labourers of this Country, but also to some Citizens) and in steed thereof, have interlined these words, Matto, pecora, and guscio. And as it behoveth a Gentleman to speak better than a Plebeian, so the wisest and best learned Gentleman, aught to speak better than those that are of less learning: But always in such sort, that he seem not to set up a new language, and be a stranger in his own house. And for conclusion, that he have regard to this sentence, That he be endued with such knowledge as the fewest sort have attained to, and that he use such speech as the most part are accustomed to.  Guaz. 
You have handled this matter, touching speech, very profoundly, but yet I am not thoroughly cleared of one doubt: For when I shall observe all those things you have spoken of, I shall easily make myself to be known for a Lombard, but it shall be hard to discern by my speech whether I be of that part of Lombardie called Montferrat. Whereby that which you have set down shall take no place, that every one ought to manifest by his tongue of what country he is, for I may as well be taken to be of Plaisance or of Verona, as of this City,  Annib. 
Your doubt, maketh me out of doubt, that my discourse touching this matter is not yet finished, and therefore in few words I answer you, that as by the books, apparel, and behaviour, we give a guess of what Country a man is, so the speech ought more manifestly to bewray it.  Guaz. 
The Gascons and the Frenchmen are evidently enough known from others, by their blalsphemie and swearing.  Annib. 
The like is used almost in all places, but the just God will use no difference in punishing us for it. I would also that not only in the words, but also in the sound, accent, and pronunciation, we should retain some signs and marks of our country, aswell to show ourselves such as we are to strangers, as also not to grieve, by a thorough reformation and diversity, our countrymen, with whom we must lead our lives: And therefore reason would we should in some sort show ourselves agreeable to them in speech and manners▪ And for so much as we began this discourse of the tongue by a similitude of money, we will end it with the same, and conclude, that as money, by mean of the coin hath a public stamp set upon it, whereby it is known where it was made, so our speech ought to have a mark upon it, which may show the original, and country of him that speaketh.  Guaz. 
You may now if it please you, descend to other things, which this day are to be spoken of.  Annib. 
Make account that all which hath been said hitherunto, appertaineth only to the pleasure of the ear, & is but external, and without. Now we have to consider more deeply, such things as are convenient for education and manners requisite in civil conversation. For Diogenes used to say, That the Mathematicians beheld the heaven and the stars, but saw not that which lay before their feet: and that Orator's study to speak well, but do it not. Having then set down in our civil conversation the purity of speech, we must now consider that that is not sufficient, without the purity and sincerity of manners. And therefore every one ought to labour, to conform his mind and affections to his words, yea and having not the gift of pure speech, he ought to supply that defect, with the purity and simplicity of manners. And thereupon that grand Captain Marius, speaking before the people of Rome, said, My words are not well set in order, but I weigh not that much, so that my deeds be good. Those have need of artificial speech, who with goodly words go about to cover dishonest deeds.  Guazzo. 
Your conclusion in brief is, that to be acceptable in company, a man must endeavour to be a Grecian in words, and a Roman in deeds.  Annib. 
You have hit my meaning right: but for that I have already protested, that I will not bind myself to search out all the parts of moral Philosophy, we will give those, that are more studious, leave to turn over the Philosopher's books, to furnish their minds thoroughly with moral precepts, and we will content ourselves to speak of things most familiar, and easy to be observed in conversation. Amongst the which (to grow now to the matter) I would wish every one that seeketh to win credit in company, to resolve with himself above all things (which very few folk do) to follow that excellent and divine counsel of Socrates, who being demanded which was the readiest way for a man to win honour and renown: answered, To endeavour, to be such a one in deed, as he desireth to seem to be in show.  Guazzo. 
If you mean to entreat but of the easiest matters, you must let that alone. For seeing there is almost no man that putteth it in execution, it is a sign that it is a very hard point: and you know that a very great difficulty, and an impossibility, are taken by the laws for one self thing.  Annib. 
Men leave it not undone, for want of power to do it, or of knowledge how to do it, but only for want of will: and therefore you must not judge those things hard to be done, which consist only in our will to do, or not to do.  Guaz. 
If to be learned, depended so well of my will, as to make a show as though I were learned, I would perchance be better learned than I seem to be, for that I should like better to be, than to seem to be: but you know, that to attain to learning, there is not only required a will, but study, watching, labour, and disquiet, which are irksome things, so that according to the fashion of others, to hide my ignorance, I force myself to seem that I am not.  Annib. 
You know that the will is not shown, nor executed of itself, but is manifested by the works that ensue: which though they be troublesome and full of labour, yet if the will be forward (if they be such things as may be done) they become easy to be accomplished. Whereupon it is commonly said, that nothing is hard unto a willing heart.  Guaz. 
I allow that conclusion for good, but that hateful, seeming without being, being (as you say) in company to be avoided, I think it needful that you show the way how we should avoid it.  Annib. 
You have reason to seek how to eschew this fault, for when we go about to persuade others, that we know that which we do not, we deceive not others, but our own selves▪ and at the length we are taken tardy in our ignorance. There are then divers ways to avoid it: the first is, that the tongue go not before the wit. And as women before they present themselves to the view of others, pry in their glass, and take counsel and assistance thereof: so before we utter our words, we must have recourse to the inward glass, that we may order and place them in such sort, that the hearers may not judge, that they take their beginning rather from the mouth, then from the heart, and that they are rather shot forth at all adventures rashly, then uttered with reason advisedly. Of this premiditation this good shall come, that no man will adventure to speak of things he knoweth not, as the ignorant commonly do. For according to the opinion of a wise man, he that speaketh he knoweth not what, playeth in a manner the part of a mad man, and falleth into the fault that Alexander the great did, who reasoning of painting in the house of Apelles, and using speeches impertinent and contrary to that art, the wise Painter whispered him in the ear, that he should speak no more of that matter, or else that he should speak softly, for that his apprentices laughed him to scorn.  Guaz. 
I allow well of this, * wherewith also this saying agreeth, That it is no greater praise to discourse well of that one knoweth, then to be silent in that he knoweth not, * whereof a Poet said very well.  

Let Sea men speak of winds,  
of bees herds that them keep:  
Let Soldiers talk of war and fight,  
and shepherds of their sheep.   Annib. 
It is not long since that a certain Gentleman (who coveted to be counted learned) chanced to be in the company of those that were learned men in deed, whereas there was talk of certain new and rare works which were very shortly to be put in print: he began to speak of an uncle of his deceased, not long before, who, in deed was a man very well learned: and added further, that at his death he left with him a work to be published the goodliest that might be: and being asked whereof it entreated, he answered, I assure you it entreateth of all the excellent things of the world, I can not express unto you the great pleasure I take in reading it. But being afterwards askts whether the work were in proase or verse, the poor Gentleman without discretion, answered, that he had forgotten that.  Guaz. 
You have produced a pretty example, now I pray you show me some other way to avoid this appearance.  Annib. 
An other is, not to speak, while an other is in speaking, before the time serve, and before he which speaketh be thoroughly understood: for that divers persons, greedy of this sottish seeming, will not suffer their companion to end his speech, but interrupting him, and taking the word as it were out of his mouth, will make a show that they are better learned, and better able to go thorough with the matter than he, when in very deed they little or nothing understand it. Wherein they resemble those ignorant fools, who, whiles the Priests sing at their service, join their voices and keep tune with them, without understanding any thing they say.  Guaz. 
This fault is hateful in company, and offendeth greatly him which speaketh. Touching this, I remember how a Gentleman began to rehearse in a certain company, the order and solemnity of the marriage of the Duke my master, whereat he was present: and while he was speaking, one of the hearers almost at every word would put in his speak in the matter, thereby to show, that he well understood the whole matter: the Gentleman having borne long enough with this undiscreet dealing, at the length paused a little, and said, My masters, it seemeth to me, that this Gentleman knoweth the whole matter better than I, and therefore I will leave it to him, thoroughly to recount it unto you. This digression, as you may imagine, made my Gentleman pull in his horns, and to acknowledge his fault, so that without speaking a word more, he suffered the other Gentleman to go forward, and to make an end of his matter.  Annib. 
Certain it is, that we ought not to interrupt him which speaketh, but rather with a certain modesty to take sometime that which he saith, for news, though every one knew it before. But this interrupting of an other, were but a small matter, if a greater inconvenience did not ensue of it. For that he which hath not the patience to give ear to that which is spoken, oftentimes taketh words in other sense than they are spoken. Wherein he resembleth a Dog, who hearing one knock at the door, barketh by and by, before he know whether it be a friend or an enemy, that is there. Whereof arise controversies without cause, and much confusion, which should not happen if the hearer were more discreet, and would attend the end of the matter. So that we may well say, that those which are impatient to hear, are rash to judge, and are likewise overhasty judges: who either by persuasion, or by affection are induced to pronounce sentence, before they hear what either part can say for themselves.  Guaz. 
verily, I can not abide how in some companies all will speak together, interrupting one an others talk, and resembling a flock of stars, or of Daws, or other birds, which when they are lighten on some tree together, make a confused charm and noise all at once.  Annib. 
And you which are discreet, if you chance amongst such fellows, because you will not show yourself partial, are feign to behold, assoon one, assoon an other, and make a sign with your countenance to all, to show that you give ear unto them.  Guaz. 
Without hearkening in deed to any one of them.  Annib. 
Right, we will say then, according to the opinion of a Grecian, that to covet to speak always, and never to hear others, is a kind of tyranny, so that in talk the speaker and the hearer ought to agree to keep turns as it were, like as they do at tennis. Besides, one that can quietly hear an other speak, showeth how he liketh to have the truth evidently and quietly opened in every matter: and that he can not away with unadvised and contentious arguing. And thereupon it is said, That to use silence in time and place, passeth all well speaking: and that it ought to be put in the number of the Philosophical virtues. For as the Orator is not known but only by speaking, so the Philosopher is no less known by modest silence, then by his grave sentences. * Therefore I would wish every one in speaking so to use the matter, that it may seem he is rather urged to speak of necessity, then desirous to do it voluntarily. Imitating that wise man, who is commended for three especial virtues: the one, that he never told lie, the other, that he never spoke ill of any, and the third, that he never spoke but upon necessary occasion *. Whereupon I conclude, that in company every one ought to observe two special times to speak: the one, when things come in question which he understandeth perfectly well, and hath at his finger's ends as it were: the other, when such matters arise, as he must needs speak of. In these two cases, it is better to speak then to be silent, in all other, he that shall use silence shall choose the best way: and avoiding that vain and counterfeit seeming, shall win greater commendation.  Guaz. 
Neither yet for all that, do I think it meet, for any to be hasty to speak of all things that he understandeth and knoweth perfectly, but to go slowly forward in them, and to weigh whether they concern his calling, or not. For albeit, by reason of my continual sickliness, I have been driven to bestow some time in the study of Galen, yet for that my chief profession is not that way, I should be misliked if I should play the Physician amongst Physicians, and enter into any deep discourse of physic.  Annib. 
It is no doubt an odious thing for a man to take upon him sufficiency, and to be prattling in every matter. Whereupon it is said that King Cleomenes, as a poor feeble Sophist reasoned in his presence of valour and force, fell a laughing, saying, If a Swallow should speak of strength, I should not forbear laughing, but if an Eagle did it, I should hearken to him attentively. And therefore it were not seemly for you to take occasion to speak of Physic: and if occasion shall be given you, you may speak of it in way of doubting, or demanding some question: manifesting by that modesty, that you have more desire to understand that you know not, then to utter that you know. Wherefore every one ought to consider what opinion other men have of him, and in what matters they will willingly hear him, and easily give credit to him, and in no wise to meddle in any other matters.  Guaz. 
Have you any other means to show us, whereby we may fly this fond seeming.  Annib. 
Marry for that purpose, sincerity and plain dealing is especially good, a thing very commendable and necessary, not only in deeds, but even in words likewise. For many, to the end they may be taken for others than they are, use to shadow the truth, and when they think to win credit, in the end by some means or other, they bewray themselves to be liars and cogging mates, and by their false dealing lose their credit. And though this fault be committed in divers sorts, yet me thinks it is too too intolerable, when a man attributeth to himself that which belongeth to others. According to the example of the Fly, which sitting upon a Cart that was driven on the way, said, he had raised a very great dust: * or like the Emote, who sitting on the horn of an Ox that was tilling the ground, being asked what he did there, answered, that he went to plough. *  Guaz. 
I have known many of them so impudent, that they have not been ashamed to affirm themselves to be the Authors of some things as new, and which have befallen to themselves, which nevertheless are most stolen, and found written a thousand years ago in other men's works.  Annib. 
Therein they are to be punished as falsifiers and filchers, for that they appropriate to themselves the honour that is due to others. But they commonly do penance for this offence, like as once the Daw did, who showing himself at a general muster of Birds, armed in all points with the feathers of an other foul, was at length stripped out of them, and mocked and laughed at as a counterfeit thief. We must therefore have reverent regard of the truth, and take heed that we violate not the virginity thereof in any sort, nor to pull so much as one hair from her, lest we sustain shame thereby. And I will say unto you more, that the truth is a thing so tickle, that a man may incur reprehension not only by disguising it in some part colourably, but even by very reporting of it simply: which is, when men tell things which are true, but yet such as few will believe to be true.  Guaz. 
Of that danger Dant expressly speaketh in these verses.  

It is not good to tell that truth,  
which seemeth like unto a lie:  
For though it be no fault in deed,  
yet may a man be blamed thereby.   Annib. 
You understand me well, and so you see that in company we must not only report the truth plainly and faithfully, but beside, we must be spare in speaking of things which are not easily believed. * And therefore it is said, that Alexander reading certain verses of a flattering Poet, wherein he was commended for killing of Elephants, for overthrowing of Bulls, and such like monstrous matters, rebuked him sharply, forbidding him to set forth any more such lies, which though they were true, yet they would be taken for lies. But to avoid this vain appearance, it is not sufficient for a man to report always the truth, if he do not likewise forbear to speak of himself, and his own doings, unless some necessity require it. For though he speak thereof truly and modestly, yet he leaveth some suspicion of vanity, and maketh himself less acceptable in company: to avoid which inconvenience, let him always have in mind that saying, that a man ought not to speak of himself, either in praise or in dispraise: for that the one is a deed of arrogancy, the other of folly. *  Guaz. 
What other ways do you add to these already rehearsed?  Annib. 
Like as in the night time, the more you fix your eyes on the firmament, the greater number of stars you discover, so the more we consider the said sentence of Socrates, the more ways we find out to avoid this vain seeming, and to be well thought of in company. Let us say then again, that a man ought to endeavour to be such a one, as he desireth to seem to be, and we shall thereby know that as naturally all men desire to be had in honour and estimation, so in the most part of men, that desire is vain and foolish, for that it is not founded upon any desert, nor any virtue worthy of honour.  Guaz. 
You say very true, and I see the abuse so great, that the least worthy, press most for praise and honour.  Annib. 
Yea but they miss the mark they shoot at, for it commonly falleth out contrary to their desire? for seeing others to make no account of them, they begin to set by themselves, and stirred up with a foolish disdain, they put on a lions skin, and look with a stern and fierce countenance: By means whereof they become hateful to all men. * But if according to the Philosopher they knew that honour did consist, rather in him which honoureth, then in him which is honoured, they would never take upon them so bigly, nor set themselves out so arrogantly, knowing that it is not in their power to be honoured of themselves. * Wherefore, who so seeketh to be had in reputation, either for wisdom, justice, fortitude, or temperance, must examine well himself, whether any of these virtues be in him, otherwise his desire can not possibly take effect.  Guaz. 
If none should be had in honour, but men of valour and merit, you should not see men even of the meanest sort, greatly esteemed of, and favoured of the people, only for the good nature and disposition which is noted to be in them, notwithstanding they are void of learning, and of all those parts, by the aid whereof, men attain to honour.  Annib. 
Those whom you speak of, are rather loved then honoured, and therefore I meant to tell you, that it is not enough for a man to be honoured for some office that he is in, or for virtue that is in him, if he purchase not also the friendship and good will of other, which is the right and sure bond of conversation: * and in my judgement, they may be rightly termed their own enemies which labour not by all lawful and laudable means, to heap up to themselves so rich a treasure.  Guaz. 
And how I pray you is this good will chief to be gotten?  Annib. 
It is gotten of the absent by reporting well of them behind their backs, and of the present, by using that common mean and instrument, whereby men's hearts are won, that is, courtesy and affability.  Guaz. 
Out of doubt, there is nothing that maketh us swarm more from humane nature, than surliness, and it is plainly seen, that these austere countenances, and new Cato's, are hated of all men. And where they count a praise never to laugh, to bend the brows, to frown, to look terribly, and to use rough speech, they make themselves known for proud and discourteous, and with their pride are odious to the proud themselves.  Annib. 
I know some so haughty and uncivil, that they disdain to salute those which salute them, which is a sign of a barbarous mind, to be neither amiable in countenance, nor affable in words. And though they think they do a man no wrong thereby, yet it maketh men hate them as enemies.  Guaz. 
I can not in any wise abide that sort of men, and I hold rather with those which commit this fault unwares, and by oversight.  Annib. 
The fault which is so committed by negligence or oversight is too gross, and there is no man that will so interpret it, and therefore they must resolve with themselves either to change their manners, and not to be so scant of their Caps and salutations, (which profit much without any cost) or else to hire a man of purpose to give them notice of those which shall salute them, that they may remember to salute them again. For these small trifles being respected, are of force to contract friendship, and being neglected, they may dissolve that friendship which before was contracted. Therefore it is our parts rather to prevent our friends in salutations, and to go beyond them in courtesy.  Guaz. 
There was a King of France, who as a common strumpet did reverence to him in the street, did resalute her courteously, and as one said unto him, that his majesty had done honour to a woman void of honesty, that did not deserve it: he answered, that he had rather err in saluting some that are nought, then to fail at any time to salute any that are good.  An. 
A saying truly fit for a king, whereby appeareth that he that doth look to find courtesy, must like to show courtesy in what sort soever it be, and he must always remember, that neither hard Wine is pleasant to the taste, neither haughty behaviour acceptable in company: which agreeth with the letters of Philip, King of Macedon: wherein is plainly showed, that gentle and courteous speech, is the Adamant stone which draweth unto it the hearts and good wills of all men.  
And albeit it be so, that this virtue be seemly and commendable in all sorts of people, yet it shineth most brightly in those which are our Superiors, either in power or pre-eminence, when you receive of them courteous speeches, in such sort, that what by their gentle words, and what by their lively looks and cheerful countenance, you understand their affections, whereto your will doth easily incline. I could here allege unto you, the example of two brothers, Gentlemen of great calling, whereof the one for his gentle speech and pleasant looks, is greatly beloved of every one, and the other for his terrible countenance, and stately kind of talk, is favoured but of a few: In so much, that some which fall in talk of them, say, * that if they were to request any thing at their hands, they should remain more pleasantly satisfied with a denial of the first, then with a grant of the other.  Guaz. 
Thereupon it is said, that a man doth one part of the good turn, when he graciously denieth it. *  Annib. 
But notwithstanding I commend this lowly and gentle behaviour, yet would I have every one keep that majesty and state which is due to his estate. For to be too popular and plausible, were to make largesse of the treasures of his courtesy, to abase himself, and to show a sign of folly or flattery. Whereby a man against his will may show himself sometime to be that he is not, & give occasion to others to insult over him, and not to respect him so much as they ought to do. But I would wish men, so much as is possible, to show at once the majesty of a Philosopher in the gravity of sentences, and the humility of a Christian in the gentleness of words: having in mind, that courteous language multiplieth friends, and mitigateth enemies, and that according to the proverb, The meek Lamb sucketh the teats of his own dam and of others also.  Guaz. 
I remember I have read a sentence, not much different from that, to wit, that he which speaketh gently to his neighbour, receiveth of him a gentle answer, and out of the breasts where he searched milk, bringeth out butter.  Annib. 
* Assure yourself it is even so. But to be sure to reap this commodity, it is requisite that this gentle speech come from the heart, and that it be not intermingled with some fond gesture and behaviour, which may make it smell of flattery, and in steed of love, purchase hate. Like as some do, who by their continual girning and showing of their teeth, make men doubt whether they honour them, or laugh at them.  Guaz. 
It is a common saying, that to smile upon every man, is rather a sign of a vain mind, then of a cheerful countenance.  Annib. 
Now I will join for a sister and companion to affability, an other virtue, very necessary in Conversation, and it is that, which not only with gentle words, but with a certain witty and ready pleasantness delighteth wonderfully the hearers. And as that is a sign of courtesy, so this is a token of wit, and is used no less in jesting merrily with others, then in taking jest patiently of others. There are divers sorts of this pleasantness, whereupon both the Philosophers and rhetoricians, seeing how available it is to refresh minds overcharged with melancholy and pensive thoughts, how acceptable in company, and how conducible to health, have at large taught us divers ways how to attain unto it.  Guaz. 
I believe well that art and study may help something in it, but in my judgement, it is nature that must work chiefly. Which to be true, appeareth by many men of great wisdom and learning, who in a pleasant matter have no grace at all, and contrariwise, many ignorant men, even of the common sort, will handle a pleasant matter so finely, that they will make Heraclitus himself laugh at it.  Annib. 
I grant unto you, that according to the diversity of natures, the actions of men are divers, and that it is hard for one to move delight in others, without a certain natural liveliness of spirit. But it is seldom seen that a man pleasantly conceited, is not also sharply witted. Which Gonella noteth, saying, That to play the fool well, it behoveth a man first to be wise. But notwithstanding I am of opinion, that a man solemn by nature, may by use get the habit of pleasantness, and I am sure you will not deny me, but that there are some in countenance and gesture very grave and severe, who in company are pleasant and merry beyond all measure. But it is better for a man not to alter his own nature from gravity, then to use mirth immodestly. For as the mean is commendable, so the extremes are detestable, and grow either to scurrility in using too licentious scoffing, or else to incivility, in refusing all merry jesting. *  Guaz. 
Now for so much as you have shown how pleasantness in company delighteth, and how gentleness in speech maketh us appear what we are, and discovereth the affections of our friendly hearts, whereby we win the good will of others, I would gladly know of you, if there be any other way beside, which will work such laudable effects.  Annib. 
Albeit by affability, only there is imprinted in men's hearts a good opinion of us, even like as is in the wax by the Seal or Signet, yet we must put too somewhat else, whereby that print and impression may be made to continue: whereto is very ●it and available the virtue called modesty, or rather that which we commonly call discretion.  Guaz. 
And wherein is that virtue to be used?  Annib. 
In every thing, but chiefly in finding fault with others men's faults. And therefore it is to be presupposed that GOD hath made man a companable creature, that by means of Conversation, he may both assist others, and be assisted himself, as need shall require. Wherefore seeing no man on earth is endued with absolute perfection, we must not mock at other men's imperfections, lest others likewise laugh at ours.  Guaz. 
You say very true, but do you not know, that (as the Proverb is) we see better a far of, then hard by us, and that at home we see no more than Moles, but abroad as much as Argus, * and that we can spy a moat in another's eye, and not a beam in our own? * But whereof think you, this fault proceedeth?  Annib. 
Perchance of self-love, which suffereth not a man to see his imperfections.  Guaz. 
But me thinks such a one seemeth to love others better than himself, for that he leaveth to correct his own faults, to amend other men's.  Annib. 
He should in very deed love others better than himself, if he were moved to seek the amendment of other men's manners upon charity and love: but it is known too well, that he is stirred to it of a certain presumption and desire to seem more wise than others, whereupon I think the very occasion why we are so busy to find faults in others, is, that contrary to the foresaid saying of Socrates) we take more pleasure to seem then to be: and we think we show not such wit in amending our own faults, as in reprehending other men's. But all those which will be such as they desire to seem, will be severe reformers of themselves, and they will sooner spy their own faults than others.  Guaz. 
I would gladly have you show particularly which are the faults of others, wherein this discretion is to be used.  Annib. 
There are two sorts of faults, the one, of those which are not full ripe, the other, of those which are thorough rotten. I call the unripe ones, those which one is ready to commit, and the ripe ones, those which are already committed. We must stay the committing of the first so much as we may, for the other, some are to be excused, some to be blamed. If then we perceive any in reasoning, to be driven into so narrow a strait, that he can not easily get out of it, without committing some absurdity either in words or in matter, it shall be our part discreetly to prevent him. And (as one that stumbling at a stone is ready to fall down) readily to take hold of him and stay him up: not staying till he fall, to make the company fall a laughing, and himself to be ashamed. In doing whereof, we assure him, which speaketh, of the good account we make of him, and give him to understand how jealous we are of his honour, in such sort, that we make him thereby very friendly affectioned towards us: whereas on the contrary, there is nothing that setteth him sooner in a rage, and maketh him to alienate his good will from us, then to think himself had in contempt, and to be flouted at.  Guaz. 
This contempt in my opinion is intolerable: for that there is no man that thinketh so vilely and abjectly of himself, that he deserveth to be scorned. And in my opinion, besides that, it is no good manner to mock another, he is also in danger to receive the like, or a greater mock himself: For such a blow as the Ass giveth against the wall, such a one he receiveth himself. And if it be a fault to flout such as one knoweth, it is a greater fault to deride those he knoweth not, which some rash and insolent fellows use to do, who (as the saying is) judging the horses by the saddles and furniture, * consider not that oft times under a clownish coat, is hidden a noble and lively understanding.  Annib. 
A poor Peisant of Montferrat, may be a proof thereof, who coming into the City, accompanied with certain women, a saucy Citizen said unto him, Thou hast undertaken to bring a great many Goats to our market: Sir (answered he) me thinks I have brought but a few, in respect of the great number of Bucks which is there.  Guaz. 
I know a young man, who by his gesture and looks seemeth to be but a fool, and for that cause some make themselves merry at him, but I may say to you, he can frame his answers so fitly, and can give quip for quip so wittily, that those which begin the skirmish with him boldly, are feign to retire shamefully.  Annib. 
To conclude, it is a perilous thing to mock and scoff at others, and, as the saying is, To anger a Wasp: And therefore it is not good to mock any man in any manner of wise. For if he be our better, or equal, he will by no means abide that we should abjectly esteem of him. If he be our inferior, we make him thereby to withdraw his good will from us, which is an ill matter: For we ought to endeavour to make every one (if it be possible) friendly affectioned towards us. Now if it fall out that another overshoot himself in talk, we must consider whether it proceed of unskilful foolishness, or of wilful naughtiness, for the first, we ought to excuse it, or discreetly to seek to hide it, without jesting at it, as some scoffing merchants, which are altogether void of wit, use to do: for as it is an ill thing to make a scoff at that which is well done, so is it a cruel and odious thing to scoff at that which is ill done by ignorance or oversight. But let us come to those faults which proceed of vice, and which are to be reprehended.  Guaz. 
I think there is need of far more discretion in reprehending those, then in the other.  Annib. 
So much the more, by how much the more danger it is too deal in good earnest then in jest. And though it be meet for all sorts of men to excuse or cover those light faults before spoken of, in all sorts of men, yet is it not lawful for every one to correct and reprehend the imperfections and faults of every man. As it is not lawful for every one either for lack of authority (as for a young man too reprehend an old, or for one of low estate, one that is of high calling) or else for that he is sprinkled with the like or with greater imperfections (as for an adulterer, to rebuke another for lasciviousness,) or for lying. For as the Proverb is,  
He that mocketh the lame, must take heed that he himself go upright. Likewise we ought not to presume to correct any others, but those, with whom either by consanguinity, or by long familiarity, we have credit and authority. To be brief, in reprehending, we must not only have respect to the quality of the persons, but also of the places and times, and to consider both how we ought to use reprehension, and how our friend is disposed to receive it. And therefore it is reported that one saying to another. Art thou not ashamed to be drunken in such sort? He answered, Art not thou ashamed to reprehend one that is drunken? In like case it were to no purpose, but would rather make him worse, to rebuke a swearer, while he is in his rage, and in the presence of others. Yet this advertisement is not enough, but to use deeper discretion in the matter, we must use an honest kind of deceit, and intermingle with the bitterness of reprehension, the sweetness of some praise. Or we must blame others for those faults which are in him whom we seek to reform: or else reprove ourselves as subject too such imperfections. Finally, we ought to reprove our friend in such sort, that he may take it well, and think himself beholding too us for it. As some Philosophers in their Moral works have taught us to do, which shall suffice touching this point. Now touching other means pertaining to the observation of the sentence before set down, if we look thoroughly into it, we shall find that all those, which love rather too be, then to seem to be, will use that foresaid discretion in avoiding all quarrelous contentions and obstinate arguing in matters, whereby a man, desirous of that vain seeming, will often times, contrary to all reason, seek to seem to have the upper hand of others.  Guaz. 
In my opinion, there is nothing that maketh a man worse liked of in company then that.  Annib. 
And therefore if he which speaketh, say the truth, we ought too content ourselves so well with his words, as if they were holy Scripture: And if he chance too utter any untruth, rather than too stand in contention with him (so that it no way prejudice us) we ought modestly too bear with it: Observing always the rule of Epictere, who said▪ that in company we must yield humbly too our Superior, persuade gently with our inferior, and agree quietly with our equal. And by that means there shall never be any falling out.  
Now I mean too tell you how a man ought too behave himself in such ceremonies as are requisite in company.  Guaz. 
I should think it wisdom to use no ceremonies at all in company, for so much as they proceed rather of curious vanity, then of faithful affection: and in my judgement the more a man useth them, the less plain dealing is thought to be in him. Whereas on the contrary, when you see one go plainly to work both in words and gesture, you say by and by, that he is a good honest meaning man. For my part I weigh it little, that my equal, having the wall of me, should go from it to give me place: I had rather have him bear me more goodwill, and do me less honour. And as you cannot but laugh to see a far off a number of folk, skipping, leaping, & dancing, you hearing no sown of instrument: so it must needs make you merry, to see a far two persons use diverse gestures and ceremonies of the head, the hands, the knees, and wrying their whole body, not hearing any word they say. I will not say unto you, that for one which hath a good grace in these ceremonies, there are a thousand whom it be cometh so ill to use them, that it will make you sick at the heart to see it: and you shall see some of them go so untowardly to work, that coveting to be courtlike, they become plain cartlike. As I have seen some talking with the Duke my master, and seeing him bore headed, have taken his arm with both their hands, and made him put on his hat.  Annib. 
He should have put it of again, to have showed that he was not bare in respect of them, but because of the heat.  Guaz. 
But there was another behaved himself somewhat better, who talking with the Duke being uncovered, took his cap forth of his hand, and put it upon his head. So that I say again, that I can in no way away with these ceremonies, which are no less unseemly in worldly matters, than they are convenient in sacred and divine things.  Annib. 
I see not how those things can dislike you, which commonly like all men.  Guaz. 
I think you mistake, for I know many, who profess themselves mortal enemies to those ceremonies.  Annib. 
Those same (and believe me) openly detest them, but secretly desire them: and if you well consider the matter thoroughly with yourself, you shall know that ceremonies displease no body. For this is certain, that they are done in sign of honour, and there is not he, who is not glad with all his heart to be honoured, and who ought not to be glad to honour another, for so much as (according to the saying of the Philosopher) he which honoureth, receiveth more honour, than he which is honoured, for like unto the Sun, the beams of honour by reflection, as it were, do shine back again upon him. And as he which is ceremonious may be thought to be a dissembler, so he which is not so, may be taken to be a clown, a rudesby, or a contemner of others. I will not say that they do ill which pray you to use no ceremonies in respect of them, but I rather commend them: For their very saying so, is a certain kind of Ceremony and behaviour, whereby they go about to cover their ambition, and it is according to the fashion of Physicians, who for manner sake sometime refuse money with their mouth, but take it with their heart, and finger it with their hands. And as the sacred Ceremonies, which are veide of superstition, are not displeasant in God's sight, and stir up to devotion the minds of the ignorant people, which are not come to the perfect knowledge of God's word: so these worldly ceremonies purchase us the good will of our friends and superiors, to whom they are addressed, and make us known for civil people, and from rude country louts.  Guaz. 
How then must we behave ourselves in Ceremonies?  Annib. 
Marry in such sort, that he which useth them, bewray thereby the affection of his heart, that the inward love may be known, as well as the outward honour is seen, otherwise ceremonies are loathsome unto us, and show that the heart is feigned. And on the other side, it is the part of him which receiveth these outward honours, first, modestly to refuse them, showing thereby that he looketh not for them, otherwise he shall show to be somewhat proud, which is most hurtful in conversation: And beside, you know well that your equal doth honour unto you, rather of courtesy, then of duty, and when you shall accept those honours as due unto you, and as of your inferior, you shall make him care but a little what reverence he showeth unto you. To be short, we must receive honour at our friends hands, rather as offered by them, than looked for by us: and it is not amiss to follow the example of that discrete gentleman, who, after long strife between him and certain of his friends, who should first enter into the house, saith, You may now know well how much I am at your command, seeing I am ready to obey you in things which turn to my dishonour: which said, he entered in without straining courtesy any longer.  Guaz. 
I allow the reasons alleged by you to maintain Ceremonies, but I will say unto you, that they ought to be observed rather amongst strangers, then familiar friends. For if I be not deceived, true friendship can away neither with Ceremonious words nor deeds.  Annib. 
I am in deed of your mind, that from true friendship, Ceremonies should be taken. But where at this day are those true friends to be found? Know you not that according to the Philosopher, Perfect friendship extendeth not towards divers persons, but is restrained to the love of one alone? I know not who is your assured friend, but I am sure that I have not yet found mine, with whom I might use such open, simple, and free behaviour as you mean. For you must think it a hard matter to find in the world two hearts which love perfectly. And though in token of true friendship, you call your companion brother, perchance he shall have no mind to term you so: and to take that custom from you, he will call you Master Guazzo. And that you may not use too familiar speech to him, he will speak to your worship in such sort, that you shall be feign to retire one step back, and use him rather Ceremoniously then lovingly. Of this common course of the world I gather, that those with whom we are conversant, being rather well willers, then true friends, it is our parts to take heed of too broad and to familiar behaviour with them, whereby we may hazzarde to lose their good will▪ and to follow the example of Flies, which will not become tame amongst us, though they daily dwell with us, & eat of our cates when we do.  Guaz. 
I remain satisfied of all that you have spoken. Now I consider with myself that this your discourse comprehendeth general matters, and agreeth to all sorts of persons. And therefore I would be glad that you should declare particularly the means that every one ought to observe, according to his estate and calling.  Annib. 
We have already said, that it is a matter impossible to set down particularly, what every one ought to do in company, and therefore it shall suffice only to consider, that the things afore spoken, aught to be common to all, like as the streets, the Churches, the Fountains, and common Conduits are. But as every one endeavoureth to get and appropriate to him, either house, lands, or movables, in like sort, every one in his order of life and conversation, aught to propose unto himself special laws, and such a kind of behaviour as shall be convenient to his calling. But to reap the right fruit of conversation, which consisteth chief in the good will of others, it is necessary, that we know and learn not only what belongeth to ourselves, but also how to behave ourselves towards others, according to the difference of their estates, for that it is our hap to come in company, sometime with the young, sometime with the old, assoon with Gentlemen, assoon with the base sort, now and then with Princes, now and then with private persons, one while with the learned, another while with the ignorant, now with our own Countrymen, then with strangers, now with the religious, then with the secular, now with men, then with women.  Guaz. 
I see now well you should enter into a Labyrinth, out of which you should not get a long time, if you would discourse particularly of all these points.  Annib. 
Think hardily that every one of these points will ask a whole days discourse.  Guaz. 
Seeing you are so desirous to rid yourself of this matter in so short time, you do as those which run post, who, desirous to go much ground, do not view, but only travers the Countries.  Annib. 
I say then (as it were in passing by) that there are few to be found, which are not sick of some of those diseases, which we have before mentioned, but the extréemest sick of all, are young men: For whose health it is requisite, that they shave of from their face that counterfeit beard, I mean that false seeming and vain persuasion: remembering themselves, that as their faces are smooth & bare without hear, so their heads are barren of understanding. For if it be true, that length of time bringeth experience, and that wisdom groweth of experience: it is most true, that young men for lack of years and experience cannot be wise: And thereof cometh the Proverb, That the Devil is full of knowledge, because he is old. And therefore they ought to bridle their over rash tongues, & to use chief silence in steed of medicine, imprinting in their hearts this saying, That a young man should hardly speak in his own cause, though he be in a manner urged unto it.  Guaz. 
It is a common saying, that a young man is to be blamed, which will talk like an old man, and a woman which will speak like a man.  Annib. 
Young men ought chiefly to keep this silence when they are amongst old men, whose company is marvelous available unto them.  Guaz. 
It is so much behoveful to them, as it is for the most part hateful to them, by reason of the diversity of complexions, fancies, and conditions, so that they fly from it so much as possibly they may, that they may enjoy the company of their equals.  Annib. 
Men ought to conceive so much the better opinion of those young men, which willingly associate themselves with old men, for that they seem to prevent age, with virtue: and beginning by time to be wise, they continue so a long time. Whereof it cometh, that easily, and before the time, as it were, with the good report they have won, and the good deeds they have done, they come to honour and preferment. And therefore in my opinion, those young men which eschew the company of old, hide their wounds, and make them to fester inwardly. And contrariwise, those which follow it, lay open their imperfections, and thereby receive guerison.  Guaz. 
It is much better to acknowledge our imperfections in our youth, then in our age, for as the Poet saith, 
In youth to do amiss, it is the less reproach.   Annib. 
There is no doubt of it, but that young folk learn of old, by reason of their authority and wisdom, to moderate their burning desires, to acknowledge their wavering inconstancy, and to correct their other natural imperfections. And as, having occasion of far travail into unknown Countries, we address ourselves to some one which knoweth the way to give us certain instructions of it: so likewise in this pilgrimage we have to make in this doubtful and deceitful life, we can not do better, then to be informed of those which have happily, as it were, reached to their journeys end, to know what ways we ought to forsake, and what to take to come safely to the end of our voyage: which is most dangerous to young folk, as the wiseman saith, who, to the uncertain flight of the Eagle in the air, of the ship on the sea, and of the serpent on the rock, addeth, as most uncertain, the way of a young man in his first years. Young men therefore are to follow the company of old, and to make their account, that he which frequenteth the wise, becometh wise, and to imitate the youth of Rome, which had age in such reverence, that every one did honour to his elder, as to his parent. And contrariwise it was counted a thing worthy punishment, if a young man did no reverence to an old, or a child to one at man's state. * Yea in some Countries, it is not lawful for a young man to bear witness against his elder. * And in truth it is reasonable that each one make reverent account of those which do surmount them in age and understanding. And as they see their youngers honour them in respect that they are more ancient, so moved by that example, they ought to reverence those which are their elders. But after other medicines meet for young men's health, I will for conclusion add this, that as he ought to avoid bold presumption, so he ought in company to be endued with such a modest shamefastness, that his cheeks may now and then be died with vermilion, which will become him, and is a token of a good nature, and a sign that he will come to goodness.  Guaz. 
I could never like of a young man that is impudent. For besides that he is ill thought of, in that he wanteth the virtue of modesty, which he ought to be endued withal, it seemeth to prognosticate that he will come to some ill end.  Annib. 
I think we have spoken sufficiently of young folk, so that I think good that we turn our eyes from the East to the West, and consider what belongeth to old folk: even in whom there break forth many maladies, as well of mind as of body.  Guaz. 
I know not how you can heal those old festered sores which are so hard to be cured.  Annib. 
Old sores are in deed hardly healed, but all sores are not festered in old folk. I count those old & festered which have taken deep roots, and which began to grow even from youth forward, but those I count not old which old age for the most part bringeth with it. As to be severe, churlish, covetous, whining. etc. Which are diseases whereof some old folk may be cured, by giving place to reason.  Guaz. 
Albeit perchance they may be cured of those diseases, yet in my fancy it is not well done to go about it. But it is better rather to follow their humour, like as we do to those which are past recovery, in every thing which they demand, following the common saying, that we must not add affliction to the afflicted.  Annib. 
The right old men (to wit the wise) the nearer they approach to their end, the more delight they take in knowledge and virtue. Touching this, I would have you call to mind the saying of him, which said that if he had one foot within the grave, yet he would still be learning somewhat. For that he was not ignorant that the things which we know, are but the least part of the things we know not. Yea we may say, that a man never beginneth to know, until by age we draw towards the end of our life. Which a certain philosopher showeth very well, who with lamentation complaineth of nature, for giving a very long life to many reasonles creatures, using great liberality towards them, & dealing very hardly with man, who is deprived of life, then when he beginneth to live, that is, to understand, and then when he ought to enjoy the fruits of his labours. But I mean not here to discourse unto old folk, what is requisite for them to sustain the burden of age, and to arrive safely at the haven and end of misery and sorrow: For that were to persuade myself foolishly that Cato had not spoken of that matter largely and eloquently. But I will say unto you, that many old folk complain without cause, that their age is smally regarded or reverenced, and persuade themselves, for that they have a white beard, for that they are bald, bleareyed, toothless, crooked, trembling, and sickly, that therefore all honour should be due unto them, and many of them see not how void they are of understanding, virtue, and wisdom. And therefore they ought to consider, that old age is not to be respected or reverenced for the number of their years, but chief for the merit of their good conditions and Virtue: and thereupon it is said, that to be hoar heard, is a sign of years, not of knowledge. And if I may say, that an old man without knowledge and virtue, is worthy no honour at all, for that it is a sign he hath spent his youth in nothing that is commendable. Which is confirmed by this saying, that three sorts of men are odious to the world, a poor man proud, a rich man a liar, and an old man a fool. Now touching conversation, I would advise old men to temper always their falke with gravity and wisdom, and for the most part to speak of those things which serve for example and instruction of life.  Guaz. 
No doubt, it is always the use to attribute much to old age, and their words are ever of more force then young men's.  Annib. 
Thereof it cometh, that as young men being asked their age, make themselves younger than they are, to conserve the ornament of youth, and to make others think they have that force and sufficiency in them, which is incident to youth: so likewise old men always make themselves older than they are, to enjoy the pre-eminence and authority which is given to age. *  Guazzo. 
This is very true for the most part, yet now and then we see some old doting fools, who notwithstanding they feel their legs feeble and trembling under them. and see in their glass their white hears, which exhort them to change of life, and manners, yet for all that they will not yield themselves, but will take upon them to play the soldiers, and the lovers, little esteeming that saying, that 
It is not meet for age,  
to sue the slippery train:  
Of Venus or of Mars both, which  
pay labour but with pain.   
So that they will not only not confess their age, but make themselves younger than they are.  Annib. 
Those whom you speak of are very offensive, for that by their evil example they embolden young men to do ill. And therefore I account him to be of great wisdom which can conform his manners to his age, having an eye to the saying of the Apostle, when I was a child I spoke like child, but being man grown, I cast away all childish tricks. But you say nothing of those, who not content to yield to the course of nature, desire to seem young, and go another way to work to hide their age, that is, by pulling of their white hears, or else seeking to convert their silver hears into golden ones, the simple souls not perceiving that this their transformation or rather deformation is no more seen than a nose in a man's face.  Guaz. 
There was one old graybeard, who perceived this well enough, but too late and with repentance. For having been denied a suit which he craved at his prince's hands, he went and died his beard and his head, and persuading himself he should not be known, returned two days after to the prince, preferring his former suit, who spying his craft, making as though he perceived it not, answered him, I cannot with mine honour grant it to you; for that I have already denied it to your father, who, two days since requested the same thing at my hands.  Annib. 
Let us now make an end of this matter, advising old men to suffer their mind to wax old together with their body, and not to behave themselves youthfully in their age: and when they are arrived to their end, not to seek to turn back, but rather to give themselves to consider that age naturally maketh them crooked and stooping towards the ground, to the end they may think to return from whence they came, and to remember that at that time their breath even hangeth at their lips. * They have further to take heed, lest they contemn young folk (a fault common to many of them) for it is their part too make account of them, and to use great discretion in their behaviour towards them, to the end, that young folk (if for nothing else) may thereby be moved to do them honour: otherwise they may assure themselves they shall be had in contempt and derision. They must be sure (being amongst youth to use great respect as well in words as ●estures, remembering that the intemperancy of old men maketh young men more disordered and dissolute. * And to conclude, that they have regard to the commandment of Paul, that they be sober, chaste, wise, sound in faith, in charity, and in patience, which virtues will make them acceptable to all honest companies. * But now let us speak of Gentlemen and yeomen, between whom by reason of their difference and inequality, there are divers things to be observed in company.  Guaz. 
I think that labour lost, or at least a thing not worthy your labour to go about to instruct the base people, about whom, being by nature uncivil, rude, untoward, discourteous, rough, savage, as it were, barbarous, and void of understanding, you shall lose your labour, and according to the Proverb, both water and soap.  Annib. 
If you mean by those of base birth, only labourers and rustics, our speech in deed would be spent in vain: but if you consider the infinite number of persons which reach not to the degree of Gentlemen, and yet are not from it, you will not deny but that both for the good mind they carry with them, and the good calling they live in, they are worthy some place in company, and that they ought to be put in the midst between Gentlemen and clowns. And truly I know many men of means calling, who in Gentlemanlike and courteous conditions, in good bringing up, and all their talk and behaviour, excel many Gentlemen. And contrariwise, I am sure you know many Gentlemen more uncivil than the Clowns themselves.  Guaz. 
If they be uncivil, how are they Gentlemen? And if they be Gentlemen, how are they uncivil? I pray you even at once undo me the knot of this gentry, which I see to be very intricate by reason of the diversity of opinions which are about it, and so consequently you shall come to set forth manifestly the Conversation between gentlemen and yeomen.  Annib. 
Having this day to speak of many things and being already late, I cannot fully satisfy your request. For I should be driven to stay hear long time to bring in all that, which many authors have at large written of it, esspecially that great Tiraquel one of the kings counsellors in the Parliament at Paris, yet somewhat to follow your mind, and not much to hinder our course, I say unto you (as it were in passing by) that some falling to define gentry, have said it be the dignity of the fathers and ancestors, others the ancient patrimony, others riches joined with virtue, others virtue only. Besides that the worthy master George Carretto an Academike alleged the other day in his discourse the authority of Bald who maketh three sorts of gentry, the first in respect of blood, as the common sort understandeth it: the other in respect of good conditions, as the Philosopher taketh it: the third in respect of both, and that I call true gentry.  Guaz. 
There might be added here that other sort of gentry, which is gotten by the Privilege of Princes.  Annib. 
Perchance he joined that with the Philosopher's gentry. For it may be said that the prince by that privilege doth approve the virtue and merits of him he raiseth to the state of gentry. But the excellency of gentry hath been much more restrained by Diogenes, who being asked, who were the best Gentlemen, answered, those which set nought by riches, honours, pleasures, and life, and which overcame their contraries, to wit, poverty, ignominy, pain, and death.  Guaz. 
I think the race of such Gentlemen is at this day extinguished.  Hannibal. 
Now for that there are many distinctions of gentry according the diversity of opinions, albeit some Philosophers assign four sorts and some five, I will be so hold devising familiarly with you, to make yet one sort more according to mine own fancy, though I swarm a little from their opinion. There are then three sorts of gentry, whereof I derive three sorts of Gentlemen, to wit: Gentlemen of the first, second, and third degree. I will give to those of the first degree, the name of half Gentlemen, having at this time no more proper term. I will call the second, Gentlemen: and the third, right Gentlemen. Now of half Gentlemen, I ordain three sorts, the first those which are Gentlemen only by birth, coming of some ancient house, but having in themselves neither good conditions nor good behaviour, nor so much as any show of gentry.  Guaz. 
Those in my opinion may rather be said to be descended of Gentlemen, then to be Gentlemen indeed: & these be those which strain themselves to swear at every word by the faith of a Gentleman, when there is nooth required of them, by means whereof they make themselves suspected, as witnesses which offer themselves before they be asked for: and they seem to be afeard lest they should not be taken for Gentlemen, as those who are known in looks, in words, and in deeds to be very clowns. And though they take upon them the name of Courtiers, yet in their behaviour they show themselves little better than Carters.  Annib. 
There is no cause why we should marvel at those differences, for like as in fields, so in houses, there springeth up fruit in great fertility, and in some process of time, there come thereof excellent and famous men: and after by little and little they fall to decay and become barren, so that the sharpness and goodness of the wit is changed, and degenerating is made gross and blockish. Yea, it is evidently seen, that not only houses and families wax old, but even whole Cities, yea the world itself. How many ancient houses have there been, whereof there is not at this day any remembrance? or else they are brought into poor and vile estate.  Guaz. 
Dant saith thereof well, that 
Races razed are, and houses run to wrack.   Annib. 
Thereupon it is said not without great reason, that if one have respect to the first original, there is no king but is descended of slaves, nor slave, but cometh of kings. And if you call to mind things of the time past, and compare them with the present, yea if you but have regard only to the revolution of our times, you shall see that as all other things, so houses turn like the wheel, being now ascending, now at the highest, now descending, now at the lowest. So that it may be said to be gentry, both which beginneth, which increaseth, which diminisheth, and which vanisheth.  Guaz. 
A man might also well compare the state of gentry to the course of the moon. But wherefore is it think you, that God causeth this alteration and change in families?  Annib. 
Perhaps to this end, that we should not hoard up for ourselves any treasure on earth: and that we should lift up ourselves to the contemplation of heavenly things, in which only a man may put his assurance. But there may be here alleged another occasion, which is, that God will suffer no evil to remain unpunished. For a famous writer, speaking of the nobility of the world, maketh it nothing else then ancient richesse, and addeth, that every rich man is either unjust himself, or else the heir of some unjust man. Whereupon he concludeth, that the gentry of ones house, taketh beginning of injustice: and therefore we must not marvel if things ill gotten are ill spent. But to return to my purpose, these half Gentlemen, who being not by nature endued with any verive, make boast of the worthiness of their ancestors, are to be laughed at: For the more they set forth the worthiness of them, the more they lay open the imperfection of themselves, for that there is nothing that maketh the children's faults more to be seen, than the bright show and glorious shining of their fathers and grandfathers. And no doubt he that hath no commendable thing in him, the more he speaketh of the gentry of his ancestors, the more vile and contemptible he showeth himself. And thereupon it is grown into a Proverb that unfortunate children extol the virtues of their parents. God therefore keep us from the state of these half Gentlemen, whose deeds being not answerable to the nobility of their house, they are little accounted of in the world, and taken as it were for Bastards. Wherefore we will conclude that in verity and truth we ought to respect the qualities and virtues which are in the parties themselves, and that it is in vain to stand upon the renown of our progenitors. Next unto this first kind followeth the second of Gentlemen by good conditions.  Guaz. 
Which take you to be the best of those two?  Annib. 
Whether do you more account of those things which are gotten with labour and industry, or of those which nature or fortune bestoweth upon us?  Guaz. 
Why the first?  Annib. 
And whether do you think more excellent of the gifts of the mind, or of the body?  Guaz. 
The gifts of the mind.  Annib. 
Consider now that gentry by birth costeth you nothing, but that you have it by succession, marry gentry by virtue you have gotten hardly, having first passed thorough the pikes, and a thousand dangers. Moreover we are to consider that gentry by blood belongeth to the body, but gentry by good conditions hath relation to the mind. Which made the tyrant Phalaris say, being demanded what he thought of gentry, that he acknowledged gentry to come only by the means of virtue, and all other things by the means of fortune, for that one of base birth may become most noble above all kings: and contrariwise one well borne may become the most wretched and contemptible of the world: and that therefore we are to boast of the gifts of the mind, not of the gentry of our ancestors, which is already extinguished by the unknown and degenerated posterity. * Whereupon I think them worthy of great commendation, who from very low place with the ladder of their own virtue climb to most respected highness. As many Popes, Emperors, and kings have done being the sons of very mean men. *  Guaz. 
Yet for all that you see how the world commonly reputeth gentry by birth as legitimate, and gentry by virtue as bastardily, and far inferior to the other. And if you do but sound the opinion of the Gentlemen of this City, they will, I warrant you in a manner all of them say unto you that they had rather be borne Gentlemen and have nothing in the world but their rapier and cloak, then to be descended of base parentage, and to be Senators or Precedents.  Annib. 
It is reported that the fox cast his tail about a young tréeful of fruit to the intent to shake it & make the fruits fall to the ground, but failing of his purpose he went his way, finding fault with the fruit, saying, they were without taste and not good enough for him. The like do those whom you speak of, who being not by virtue able to aspire to those degrees, mislike of the degrees, and of those persons who by their virtue have attained unto them. But assure yourself that those which hold that erroneous opinion, are for the most part void of virtue. But if you shall talk with a Gentleman that is so by birth, who by the help either of learning or of arms hath gotten this second gentry, he will no doubt make more account of the gentry purchased by his own virtue, then of that which is descended unto him by birth. So that I marvel nothing though that common opinion take place, seeing that the number of Gentlemen without virtue is far greater than of those which be virtuous. Yet you remember that it was said yesterday, that the common opinion consisteth not in the number, but in the quality of the persons: and therefore the opinion which you have brought forth shall not be called common.  Guaz. 
This same is one of the abuses of divers countries & specially of France, where learning is so little accounted of, that a Gentleman, though he be scarce able to maintain himself, thinketh scorn too apply his mind too the study either of the laws or of physic. And though there be no gentry in a manner, to be compared to that of the Presidents and counsellors of the King, yet you see those that are Gentlemen borne, count them to be but base and ignoble. But I have seen many rightly served, for this their corrupt opinion, or rather obstinacy: For I have seen one of these counsellors or Precedents (to keep their state) suffer these Gentlemen which have occasion to use them, to knock a great while at their gates, and when they are come in, they walk long time in the Court, or in the hall of the house, before they shall be admitted to their presence, and they are driven oftentimes (after that he shall be mounted in haste upon his Mule, to go to the Palace) to lackey after like slaves, so inform him of their causes & suits. But there was nothing in France which went more against my stomach, then to see the Secretaries of noble men in so little credit and reputation: whereas in Italy the Secretaries of Princes are had in great honour, and justly for that they are partakers of their inward thoughts, and the keepers as it were upon trust of their honour & estimation. And in France he that hath a servant which can copy out writings, and keep count of his revenues in a book, he giveth him forthwith the name of Secretary.  Annib. 
I have reasoned many times with your brother about that matter, who amongst other pleasant matters told me, that in the voyage which he made last, by post in France, being sent by the Duke our master to the King, being to change Horses in a certain place, the Postmaster came unto him, and called twice aloud (Secretary) and forthwith there came out of the stable a foul great Groom with a pen & inkhorn at his girdle, and a pen at his ear, who had charge given him to make ready three horses: whereupon the secretary set hand to the harness, & saddled one of them, & two other servants did the like: one of which, your brother asked why his master made the secretary dress horse? who answered, that his master took him for a Groom of the stable, & for their companion about the looking to the horse: but for that he could write and keep a reckoning of the horses which were let out, his Master had like wise made him his secretary.  Guaz. 
He might well say he was secretary in Vtroque, to wit, with the pen and the currycombe.  Annib. 
He said moreover, that when the Duke of Nevers sent him to the lodging of some Prince, or of the great chancellor, or some other, he was soon let in, if he termed himself one of the Duke's gentlemen, but if he named himself secretary, they made him tarry longer, and regarded him the lesser. Now to return to my purpose, I say again, that the Gentleman by virtue, is more excellent than the Gentleman by birth. Yea I could say unto you, that many count gentry by blood to be foolish, and nothing at all: and amongst others a certain wise man said, that gentry of the mind, is, to be endued with worthy thoughts: and the gentry of the body, is the gentlemanlike mind: meaning, that the gentry of the body, was not to be attributed to the house we came of. Another Philosopher affirmeth likewise, that it is in vain called gentry, which referring itself to the worthiness of blood, is not ours, but others. And therefore the light of another cannot make me shine, if there be no brightness in myself.  Guaz. 
That is noted to us by the saying of Dant, that only he is bright, who shineth of himself.  Annib. 
A man may also add here the saying of our Galen, that those who being void of virtue themselves, have recourse to the cognisances and arms of their predecessors, see not how that vainglory is like certain kind of coin, which is currant in those towns and places where it hath been stamped and made, but it cannot be put away in other places, but is taken for counterfeit and nought. But I will not here omit that which is excellently written in a letter, by his brother Francis Coronato, our Academike doctor in divinity, that they are to be laughed at, which take so much upon them, to put difference between themselves and other, as if they had been made by some other creator than God, for that the flesh maketh no difference, nor one more excellent than another▪ And though a vessel of gold be more esteemed than one of Copper, for that it is of more precious and fine matter; yet that cannot be said of us, who come all of one lump of flesh. Yea the soul itself maketh no difference between us, for so much as we come all of one father and creator. But that which putteth a difference between us, is the virtue of the mind. So that neither in respect of the master▪ nor of the form, nor of the mind, considered of itself, but in respect of the virtue gotten & acquired by our own industry, we are more excellent one then another. And thereof we may now see that touching the original, we are all one thing, and as one said, we are all made of dirt: and as we have one self beginning, so have we likewise one self end. Wherefore we are to conclude, that gentry and renown is not got by our birth, but by our life, yea and sometime by our death, according to that saying, 
A worthy death doth honour all our life.   Guaz. 
It may be well said also that a right Gentleman is not borne as the Poet, but made as the Orator.  Annib. 
It is said also that philosophy received not Plato a Gentleman, but made him one.  Guaz. 
Yet, for all that in my opinion it is a good thing to be descended of a good and honourable house.  Annib. 
I grant you that, for gentle race, besides other good effects, maketh a man ashamed to degenerate from the virtue and valour of his ancestors. Yea and gentry is to be honoured for this respect, that for the most part the better lineage we come of, the better behaviour we are of. And therefore Q. Max▪ Scipio, and others said, that beholding the pictures and images of their ancestors, they felt themselves marvelously stirred up to virtue. whereto princes have a regard, endeavouring always to make gentlemen their chief officers. And truly it happeneth seldom that he doth ill, who seeth thereby the honour of his ancestors together with his own brought in danger.  Guaz. 
There remaineth for you now to speak of the third sort of half Gentlemen.  Annib. 
I need not use many words to you touching that sort, and it sufficeth to say, that those same get their gentry by custom: and that this gentry is so weak, that it extendeth not generally, but hath place only in some part. And albeit a com●●● soldier, or a merchant, or other living of his own revenues, be not altogether taken for a Gentleman, yet there are some countries and towns, where, according to the custom; or by some other accident, they are taken for Gentlemen, and admitted indifferently into the company of Gentlemen. And there fore according to that common opinion, those same may be called Gentlemen in their country, but not else where.  Guaz. 
In few words, your mind is that those amongst the Italians, Spaniards, Frenchmen, lombards, or of any other nation, are Gentlemen, which are termed & taken so: and that a man may be a gentleman or a yeoman according to the custom of the place where he is, out of which he shallbe otherwise by a contrary custom.  Annib. 
My meaning is even so. But seeing we have spoken sufficiently of half Gentlemen, let us speak now of Gentlemen which have the two  kinds of gentry joined together: to wit, that by blood; and that by virtue. The Philosophers make great account of gentry by birth, when it is accompanied with virtue, without which it may be said to be dead, as a body without breath. And therefore if we look thoroughly into the matter, we shall find that it happeneth seldom, that a house doth maintain itself long in honour without virtue, or is able to rise to high estate & dignity. For if one of base calling, give the beginning to gentry by the excellency of some virtue, that is a certain sign that virtue is the foundation of gentry, and that to maintain gentry, it is necessary to maintain the foundation thereof.  Guazzo. 
In truth gentry is unseemly without virtue, and in my opinion one that is borne a Gentleman, is not worthy of account, when he is not endued with good conditions.  Annib. 
Leaving then the wrong opinion of some countries, to come near to the ancient majesty of the Romans, we will hold for certain that gentry increaseth no less by the virtue of learning, then by the prowess of arme●. For that this saying is most true▪ that gentry is the daughter of knowledge: and that knowledge doth gentellise him that possesseth it. And therefore the science and knowledge of good letters, being no less to be esteemed of, than the knowledge of martial feats, it is certain that the gentry of the one, is no less than of the other. But for all this, we must not think it sufficient for us to be known to be but indifferently learned and virtuous, but we must endeavour to attain to excellency therein. For the more good parts be in a man, the more Gentlemanlike he is said to be. And I can not here but speak of the folly of some Gentlemen, who having nothing but gentry by birth to brag of, are not ashamed to say, that they are as good Gentlemen as the Emperor, as if a Gentleman could not increase in gentry: And not considering that there are degrees of gentry, as well as of dignities and honours: and that one is so much more Gentleman * by birth * then another, by how much his gentry is more ancient, more renowned, more manifest, and more mighty. Which may be said, not only in respect of birth, but also in respect of virtue. And as of the two dogs which Lycurgus brought before the Spartans, which though they came both of one litter, yet the one ran to the pottage pot, the other at the hare: so of two brothers, the one shallbe more gentle than the other, by how much he shallbe more learned, virtuous, and placed in higher degree. And you know that without the spurs of preferment, to prick men forward, the gentry of houses would soon decay, for no Gentleman would take pains to achieve any thing worthy of honour. To avoid which inconvenience, we ought to have in our minds the saying of Galen, which is, If we be Gentlemen, let us not show ourselves unworthy of our house: if we come of a mean house, let us by our deeds raise it to renown. But what speak I of Galen, let us think of that divine saying, You are the children of Abraham do the works of Abraham. Yet in my opinion it is not enough to follow the trace of worthy predecessors, but we must lay before us the noble devise of Charles the fifth, to wit, the pillars of Hercules, and to dispose ourselves to go beyond them, and to attain to such virtue, as may worthily be termed heroical. For if it be a great delight for a man to know, that from time to time out of his house, (as out of the Trojan horse) there have issued captains, Colonels, and knights, like as out of the universities of Pavia, Padua, and Bologna, there come doctors of philosophy, physic, and law, how much more good shall it do him, who may say, that he hath, according to the Proverb, * wings brother than the nest, * and by the excellency of his deeds, and sufficiency in learning and feats of arms, hath surpassed the deserts, dignities, and degrees of his predecessors, and alone as it were carried away the price. By the example of Augustus, who said, I found Rome of stones and bricks, but I have left it of marble. Now to dispatch this matter, these gentlemen whom I speak of, may make their boast to have two advantages above gentlemen by birth only. The first is, virtue, the other courtesy, the right ornament of a Gentleman: For of courtesy and gentleness he is termed a gentleman.  Guaz. 
When a man is gentle both by birth and virtue, I see not what may be added more unto him, & yet besides those two sorts of Gentlemen, you have set down a third kind of right or absolute gentlemen. By which terms you put me in mind of aqua vitae, and such like, which are three times stilled.  Annib. 
Like as in the third distillation is bestowed greater charge, and more excellent matter ariseth of it, so in these absolute gentlemen there are required greater gifts, and greater perfection they are endued withal. To be short, I call those absolute gentlemen, who to their gentry by birth and virtue, have great riches joined: which serve greatly to the maintenance of gentry.  Guaz. 
You have now opened my eyes, and I know that I was not before thoroughly awakes. I see now apparently that there is nothing maketh gentry more bright, and shining, than the brightness of gold and silver: wherein a man may say there consisteth another kind of gentry.  Annib. 
In proof of that which you say, some would have it that riches should make gentry, but I cannot think them to have so great force, for that were to debase gentry too much. But I may be bold to say this, that though riches can add no degree to gentry, yet they are a ready instrument to put in practice certain virtues belonging to gentry: and especially liberality, whereby gentry, like a glass stricken with the beams of the fun is made more bright & shining. And therefore these absolute gentlemen make themselves seem above all other. Whereof are to be seen particular examples in those cities, where there are universities or schools▪ For there gentlemen of great wealth will show themselves above a great number of other scholars. Yet perchance they are no better borne no● endued with be●ter conditions than the other are, & yet by reason of 〈◊〉 r●●hes they one more accounted of▪ And as a pre●ious stone 〈…〉 fine gold & curiously wrought is more goodly to sight, than another that lacketh the workmanship, so those gentlemen which keep open household, which have a great train after them, & which spend much & freely, are much more esteemed of th● other common scholars, who are gentlemen to, & yet those former are honoured and courted of them.  Guaz. 
In conclusion the power of riches is great & a man may see that all things are in subjection to money.  An. 
It is showed unto us by an Epigram translated out of Greek which was uttered the other day in the Academy, & is this.  

 
amongst the Gods to place,  
The earth, the water and the wind,  
and Sun with shining face.  
The stars and the fire,  
but as for me I take.  
Silver and gold to be the Gods,  
which most for men do make:  
To yield them their content,  
and if thou them possess,  
Of houses▪ lands, servants, and friends,  
thou shalt have great excess.  
And if thou freely wilt▪  
in bribes thy coin bestow,  
Both judge, and jury will be priest,  
all favour thee to s●owe.  
Yea Gods from heaven will hither come▪  
all honour thee ●o do,   Guaz. 
It is said, that gold break thr●e gates of Diamant, & that the tongue hath no force when gold speaketh.  Annib. 
We will say then according to these opinions, that where power & ri●●es are greatest, their gentry is greatest & perhaps it was therefore that Galigula the Emperor hearing certain princes reason of Nobility▪ said, That it belonged only to an absolute prince meaning, that it was proper only to the Emperor. But laying apart these opinions, I am of this mind that riches joined with good birth, & good conditions, make not a man an absolute gentleman, if they be n●t accompanied with that royal virtue; called magnificence▪ and if he bestow not those riches bountifully as is meet for his estate.  Guaz. 
I● you will have riches to be a help to gentry, it shall behove a man rather to be saving, that he may be able to keep himself rich, for according to the saying of the Poet.  

The virtue is unless to keep, then for to get.   
And I remember. I have heard tell how a king of France going to see the lodgings & rooms of a fair house belonging to the steward of his household, said, That the kitchen was a great dealer too little, in respect of the greatness of the house, but the steward answered him, that, that small kitchen had made the house so great.  Annib. 
It is well done to know how a man spendeth, but I altogether mislike covetousness, which is an enemy to gentry and a token of a base mind. And here I would have you call to mind some rich Gentlemen, who having, or (to speak more properly) possessing ●●ith riches, suffer nothing but smoke to go forth of their houses: and as if they were driven to it of necessity, go with a pielde thread bare cloak on their back, with a greasy Cap on their head, their hose torn and patched, neither can they any way excuse their miserableness, but by saying we are known well enough, we either have better, or we may have better: & having a horse in the stable, yet they think they may honestly enough walk on foot. I am sure you cannot abide that these gentlemen should stand upon their gentry, so much as those which keep a worshipful house, open aswell to strangers, as to their neighbours, and chief, to the poor and honest▪ which they are bound to do (being able) thereby to maintain the name and worship of the ancestors, and to show themselves their lawful successories. To be short, riches well bestowe●, are a great ornament, & setting forth to a gentleman.  Guaz. 
The harder is the state of poor Gentlemen, who are constrained by necessity to live like owls in the dark.  Annib. 
Amongst other inconuenientes, & discommodities, which p●●●tie is bringeth to a Gentleman, this is one, and no small one▪ that he is some times driven to match himself in marriage with some woman of base parentage, by reason whereof, his blood is corrupted, and his children degenerate, who after follow the nature of neither father nor mother.  Guaz. 
Though our Borcace maintain that poverty taketh not away gentry, yet in my opinion, it doth at least dismember it, weaken it, disfurnish it, turn it into it doublet, yea, and strippeth it stark naked.  Annib. 
Some of those poor gentlemen are to be pitied, to wit, those who by some mischance & evil hap, not by their own fault, are become poor and low. But those are worthy blame, who knowing themselves to be poor, endeavour not while they are young, either by learning, either by war, either by service, to withstand poverty, which they know to be the overthrow of gentry. But you know there are many, whom their noble birth maketh ignoble: For they think, in that they are borne gentlemen, they never need seek other reputation or countenance. And if you do but look about these mountains without going any farther, you shall see some houses so full of Gentlemen, all companions & equals in this seigneorry, that every one of them hath scarce a little hole to shroud himself in: and they come at diverse doors so thick as it were coneys out of a Berrie. And grounding themselves altogether upon that little smoke of gentle birth, they suffer themselves to be resty as it were like Bacon with yolenesse: or else to be carried through necessity to commit shameful and dishonest deeds. * So that it may be said, that by resting in their seigneory, they lose their gentry: yea, and now and then, lose both the one and the other *. It is not long since, that a friend of mine of Moncaluo told me he saw at the market a poor wretch, who having brought thither an Ass loaden with wood, when he that would have bought it of him, offered him less than he liked to sell it for, he swore by the faith of a Gentleman that he had sold another load for a great deal more money, marry he would sell the same somewhat better cheap.  Guaz. 
I would sooner have believed him if he had sworn by the ear of the Ass. But perchance he made himself believe that to lead an Ass to the market to serve his own turn, was no stain to his gentry.  Annib. 
There are some which hold with these (miser's rather than Gentlemen) saying, that to do such things for a man's own behoof, doth not derogate so much from his gentry, as if he did it for hire, and for the service of others: and they allege for themselves the example of a Philosopher, who being found fault withal for carrying fish under his cloak, answered, that it was for his own eating: inferring thereby, that (according to the proverb) it is an ill horse that will not carry his own provender.  Guaz. 
I think I have also heard that in some countries, he which with his own hands filleth his ground or doth any other work belonging to husbandry, looseth not thereby one jot of his gentry. But for my part I will always pray, good Lord deliver me from such kind of gentry.  Annib. 
Therein, as I have already said, we must have regard to the custom of the Country, & it shallbe no marvel at all unto us, to see in some towns certain gentlemen (contrary to the order of other towns) go to the Butchery, and Market, & buy victuals, & carry in their handkerchiefs or table napkins, salados, fruit, fish, or some other small trifle.  Guaz. 
For my part, I would be loath to do so, and I had rather live only with dry bread.  Annib. 
Neither do I (I promise you) like of that fashion, but we must bear somewhat with poverty, which perchance forceth them to it, or else perhaps it hath been an ancient use amongst them, & the time may come, that it shall be left. But to return to our purpose, the richer a Gentleman is, the greater he is. For riches no doubt carry credit & favour with them, for when the rich speaketh, every one keepeth silence, but when the poor speaketh, it is said, what fellow is that? And therefore let us hold as an Oracle the saying of Horace.  

Birth and good qualities are nothing worth,  
if riches from them he shut forth.   
And for conclusion of our discourse, we will say that a man is established, & set in the highest & surest degree of gentry, when his seat is upholden with these three most strong feet, good birth, good qualities, and riches.  Guaz. 
I like very well of your witty distinction, but for that you said not long ago, that courtesy & gentleness is the chief ornament of a gentleman, it cometh now in my mind to ask you whether a Gentleman by birth, degenerating from his ancestors, & from his own nature, using neither courtesy nor virtue, may rightly be termed a Gentleman.  Annib. 
Though courtesy necessarily appertain to a gentleman, yet you see it is wanting in the most part of those which are gentlemen born, which cometh to pass for the reason already given. But touching those, who not only want the gentlemanly instinct, but besides live dissolutly, I can say no more, but that a man borne well, & living ill, is a monstrous thing, & worthy to be abhorred. And it is a common saying, That gentry standeth the evil in as much steed, as a looking glass doth to a blind man. But to satisfy more fully your demand, I will conclude this matter with another common distinction, according to which it is said, that there are Gentlemen of Gentlemen, Gentlemen of base, and base of Gentlemen. Gentlemen of Gentlemen are those, who, descending of worthy ancestors, tread in their steps. Gentle of base, are those who extracted from lo parentage, raise themselves to gentry by their virtue. Base of gentle are those, who degenerating from the virtue of their forefathers, are become nought, & vicious. But it is high time to think of the rest of the matters which we are to entreat of this day, & to consider what is to be observed in the conversation of gentlemen & yeomen together.  Guaz. 
I see by you then, you mean to allow them to company together, but in my opinion, such company, & such confusion is not good. And you see that most commonly gentlemen resort to their equals, & that if they accompany with yeomen, and those which are their inferiors (if urgent business drive them not to it) they are discommended, and little esteemed of other Gentlemen.  Annib. 
There are many gentlemen, who not understanding what gentry is, think it an evil & infamous thing not to be a gentleman, & therefore they fly from it as from the plague, & they think it no less shame to be seen in the company of the base sort, then to be taken in the common stews: not knowing that there is no more difference between the gentleman & the yeoman, than there is between two bricks made of self same earth: whereof the one is set in the top of a tower, the other in the bottom of a well. Yet there are some gentlemen of better disposition, who frequenting for the most part, the company of gentlemen, take no scorn when occasion serveth to accept of the company of those which are no gentlemen. Now in these same differences in my judgement, the first, by bending the bow too much, break it in sunder, & by shuting up the treasure of gentry too closely, show a kind of incivility & churlishness, odious not only to the world, but to GOD himself: for that they vouchsafe not for brothers, and companions, those whom he avoucheth for his children. The other, in my mind do two acts of gentry, in that accompanying with Gentlemen they degenerate not from their kind, and frequenting the meaner sort, they express that gentleness & courtesy which is proper to a Gentleman. According to that philosophical and Christian saying, That the more lofty we are placed, the more lowly we ought to humble ourselves: which is in deed, the way to rise higher. Besides, the gentleman which useth the company of his inferiors, giveth, & receiveth singular pleasure: For that they are marvelous well paid when they see a Gentleman, notwithstanding the inequality, which is between them, to make himself their equal. Whereby they are induced to love him, to honour him, and to do him service: and whereby they themselves win credit, and are the better esteemed of by their equals. But the pleasure which the gentleman receiveth is great deal more, who conversing with other Gentlemen, is feign to frame himself ofttimes to their fancy: knowing that every one will look for as much pre-eminence every way as himself, but in consorting with his inferiors, he shallbe the chief man amongst them, & rule the company as he list, neither shall be forced to say or do any thing contrary to his mind: which liberty is seldom allowed him, being amongst his equals.  Guaz. 
And for that purpose, when I chance to go abroad to recreate myself, I accompany myself more commonly with one that is inferior to me, then with my equal: For with my equal, I must for good manner sake, seek rather to follow his mind then mine own, & make as though I liked of that, which liketh me nothing at all, going with my feet sometime thither whither I go not with my heart. But I do with my inferior what I list, & dispose of him at my pleasure, so that I find the company of my equals to be as it were servitude, and of my inferiors, liberty.  Annib. 
You have reason, & therefore you see that for the most part a gentleman maketh his abode in a village or Manner, whereof he is lord, where he seemeth to be a king: for that he is there obeyed, & nothing done contrary to his pleasure. Which he shall not have in a City, where he is no more than other Citizens are, & where he is much less respected.  Guaz. 
Seeing you will not that a man shall refuse the company of the meaner sort, I think it needful to show, which of them are chief to be admitted into company.  Annib. 
When need shall require, it shall not be amiss to comfort with all sorts of persons, though of never so base condition: which Diogenes meant to show, who being asked, why he went to drink at the Tavern, answered, I likewise go to be pulled in the Barber's shop. And there upon we see that divers Gentlemen of this City, are not ashamed to be seen in the open street talking with divers workmen, Artificers, and handi-craftsmen, for necessaries appertaining to their house and household. But if necessity constrain us not, we ought not to admit into our company others then those, who, though they be not Gentlemen by birth and calling, yet have civility in their behaviour, and wit in their talk, which maketh them differ altogether from the common sort. And touching Gentlemen, it behoveth them to know, that they are subject to some infirmities, amongst the which, arrogancy is one, which is too commonly used, especially by Gentlemen of the first sort, who have nothing to stand upon, but the good house they come of. And therefore saying aside their lofty looks, they ought to behold their inferiors with a more gracious eye, and to use courtesy towards them, which as we said before, as proper to Gentlemen, and by means whereof, they get the good will of their worsers. Otherwise, let them be sure they shall incense the whole people against them, and consequently, by the common voice of the people to be very ill spoken of. Besides, to confemne the meaner sort, may sometimes do a man great displeasure▪ as it did to a Citizen of Rome, of the house of the Scipios, who, while he laboured to be one of the Officers called Aediles, met with a country fellow, whom he took by the hand, which feeling to be rough and hard brauned, he scoffingly asked him whether he used to go with his hands or with his feet, which set the husbandman in such a rage against him, that like fire amongst flax, he stirred up the whole people against him, and so wrought the matter, that for lack of voices, he went without the office he stood for, and to his great shame, he learned how hateful and hurtful a thing it is for a brave gentleman, to mock & scorn a simple soul of the country. * Wherefore let not a gentleman brave over those which are no gentlemen, but let him remember that his gentry took beginning of one who was no gentleman. Which is given us to understand by the Poet, which saith, 
The first who ere he was,  
of whom they race did grow:  
Some shepherd was, or else, some such,  
whose name I will not sheme.   
Moreover, let him remember that Gentlemen were admonished by Christ that they should not be puffed up with vain glory, for so much as they ought to say with the common sort (Our father which art in heaven) which they can not say with a pure and unfeigned heart; if they take not yeoman and poor men for their brothers. To be short, they ought to print this in their hearts, that no man is to be commended for the gentry of his ancestors, nor to be reprehended for their baseness. And they must know, that he which despiseth the unnoble, despiseth his first fathers, and consequently, his own self. Wherefore it is the part of a Gentleman to behave himself so gently and courteously in all his doings, * that out of his eyes, tongue, and manners, his gentlemanly mind may show forth. * And he that is not willing to take this course, must content himself to be a Gentleman only in his own conceit, for he may not look that any man else will take him so. Now touching the unnoble or yeomen, they must not for all this, think themselves without imperfection, for many of them have an infirmity more grievous and pernicious than any before rehearsed: which is, that they will not acknowledge & confessé the 〈◊〉 inferior to Gentlemen, both by nature, fortune, & virtue: not knowing the amongst the seven degrees of superiority, this is particularly set down of Gentlemen over the vaser sort, who by all reason ought to submit themselves to their will and pleasure. As then by some infirmity of the eyes, if it be not soon healed, a man quickly becometh blind, so of this imperfection in the common people, some of them fall into such blind arrogancy, and so foolish a vain, that they will not stick to vaunt themselves to be that which they are not, and both in their talk and in their apparel brave it out like Gentlemen.  Guaz. 
A goodly matter I promise you when men will go about (as our Boccace saith) to make an Orange tree of a briry bush. In my mind those which extol themselves in wóordes and brag of their birth, rather disgrace themselves then otherwise. Like the poor drudge brought in in the Comedy, who told that his father was a goldsmith, and being asket what work he did belonging to that occupation, answered, that he set stones in mortar. Or like the mule who being demanded of his birth, and being ashamed to say that he was an Ass' son, answered, that he was a horse's cousin. But this fault of changing and feigning of names and callings, in my fancy is more used in our country then in any other. And if you mark the Spaniards here with us (notwithstanding two months before they had not a shoe to put on their foot, and confessed themselves to be poor and needy) yet when they have picked up their crumbs a little, they will be master one of another, and use great honour and ceremonies, to the end that we should the better account of them. I think they durst not do this in their own country, but here they are bold to do it, for that they see it ordinarily done amongst us: and that he will boast himself to come of an ancient house, whose father never so much as came in place where a Gentleman had been. You shall see other some, being the children of cobblers & peddlers, who having gotten a little wealth, take upon them very higly, and become most currish and cruel.  Annib. 
Do you not know the saying of the Poet, that 
There is no rigour like to his,  
who from low state extolled is.   Guaz. 
And therefore I think the example very rare, yea, and singular of King Agathocles: who, being a Potter's son, would always eat his meat in earthen vessel, to the end, that having always fresh in mind his father's obscureness, he should take no pride of his own greatness. But how little is this example followed by many rich Peasants, who are not ashamed to attire themselves like Gentlemen, to wear weapons by their side, and such like ornaments, which are proper only to gentlemen: before whom they will make no courtesy to take place. And this abuse is so in use at this day in Italy, that as well in men as women, a man can discern no difference in estates. And you shall see the Clowns will be as brave as the Artificers, the Artificers as the Merchants, and the Merchants as the Gentlemen. In so much that a Tailor using to wear weapons, and to be apparelled like a Gentleman, is not known what he is, until he be seen sowing in his shop. But you shall not see this disorder and confusion in France, where, by ancient custom several apparel is worn, according to every one's calling. So that by the garments only, you may know whether a woman be the wife of an Artificer, a Merchant, or Gentleman: And which is more, by the apparel, you shall know a difference between Gentlewomen themselves, for some attire is proper to Ladies, and those that attend in the Court upon some Queen or Princess, likewise to the wives of Presidents, counsellors, and principal Magistrates, which nevertheless is not allowed to every Gentlewoman.  Annib. 
Our abuse herein is in deed insupportable, and requireth that Princes should put their hands hereto, and cut the combs of these clownish coxcombs, and make them come down from their degree of gentry, by forcing them to wear such apparel as may be at least different from Gentlemen, if they will needs have it as costly, for beside, that under such a mask there may be much falsehood wrought, it is reasonable also, that as princes would find themselves grieved with gentlemen if they would prefer themselves before them any way, so they ought not to suffer the honour and degree of gentry to be disgraced by the presumption of malapert clowns. But be it that there were no way to reform that abuse, yet those who are gentlemen indeed, ought not to be moved with the matter, but rather to laugh at it. For the Ass which put on the lions skin (thinking that thereby his master would more respect him) was known for an Ass, and used like an Ass. Now for so much as in this matter of civil conversation, we have not undertaken to speak of the manner of apparel, we will leave this digression, and come to conclude, that yeomen ought to know their degree, and by a certain kind of humility to show themselves inferiors to Gentlemen in doing them reverence: Assuring themselves, that as by saucy presumption they make themselves hated, so by lowly humility, they make themselves loved of Gentlemen.  
But I see well now we have stayed so long upon the discourse touching Gentlemen, that we shall be feign to pass over lightly and briefly the conversation of princes.  Guaz. 
Nay rather it were requisite that you made thereof a long speech▪ for that the faults of Princes are many and more grievous than those of private persons: i● the Poet say true, which saith▪ 
The more infectious is the fault,  
and followed of the more.  
By how much higher he is placed.  
That doth ill sample show.   
And if you mark it well, an evil Prince doth not only suffer himself to be corrupted, but besides he corrupteth others: for that his subjects take delight to follow his fashions, and think it not only tolerable, but very reasonable to conform themselves to their head. By reason whereof they do more harm by their example, then by their offence.  Annib. 
I had rather we might say nothing at all of this matter. For there want not writers, both of the times past and present, who have taken the courage and the care to instruct princes, and to set down thoroughly what their life and conversation ought to be. Besides we are to consider, that it pertains not to us to speak of their doings, which are irreprehensible and incomprehensible. And to speak my fancy freely, I have always blamed in my mind, those which will appoint laws and orders of life to Princes, who are Lords over Laws, and enjoin them to others. And therefore by my will we will not * apply the humility of our Philosophy to the Majesty of Princes: * for that being Gods on earth, it is to be thought, that all which they do is done well: and that to reason of and call into question their doings, is nothing else, but with the Giants, to lay siege to heaven.  Guaz. 
I perceive well, that according to the Proverb you love to stand far●e of from jupiter, 〈◊〉 lightning, being assured that no man shall accuse you for that you shall not say, and me thinks you have regard to that which is said by one, That to reprehend princes it is dangerous, and to commend them, plain lying.  Annib. 
It is so far of, that I meant to 〈◊〉 any such thing, that I did not so much as think it. For being persuaded that they hold of the divinity, I think they cannot easily err or commit act worthy reprehension. Neither can I choose but laugh at certain curious fellows, who discoursing of the affairs of the world, and not knowing the hidden secrets of the deep devices of the Pope, the Emperor, the king o● great▪ Turks make of their doings a thousand wrong and fond interpretations, being far wide of their thoughts▪ And they persuade themselves that princes are fools: that they live at all adventures without aduy●e and coulisayle, and that matters should go better if they themselves were Princes.  Guaz. 
The stings of those which eat their bread, and live in one self court with them, are far more pricking to Princes, then of those which stand so far of, descanting upon their doings. Whereupon a certain king used to say, that he was like a Planetrée, under whose boughs, while the weather is foul, many shroud themselves, but when fair weather cometh, they pull it up by the roots, so he gave secure to many which were afflicted with the storms of trouble and misery, who afterwards when the mind of prosperity began once to blow with them, bended themselves to his ruin and overthrow.  Hannibal. 
Do you think that Princes are ignorant of it.  Guaz. 
No I warrant you, for like Gods they know not only what men say, but what they think. But belike to their divine knowledge to tell what men think, and to their delicate ears to hear what men say, they lack sharp and piercing tongues to tell those of their faults, which abuse them.  Annib. 
Those which dare abuse Princes seem never to have read that verse, 
Knowest not that Prince's hands, will reach a great way of.   
Neither to know that the ears of the Ass fastened to Midas, mean that he easily understood what every man said and did. They know not also that Princes partake with the divine power, being able to pull down the mighty and set up the weak.  Guaz. 
Yea but if Princes would punish such fellows they should do a deed of justice, But I see well that in this point they had rather conform themselves to divine mercy then to due justice. For commonly they will not once have the matter called in question.  Annib. 
That is the right act of a Prince, and therefore it is well said, That the Eagle catcheth not flies.  Guaz. 
Say also hardly, that they are so far of from taking punishment of such fellows, that many times they do most good to those, who speak most evil of them.  Annib. 
Weighing belike that the good will be content with enough, and that they are sure always to be in league with them, but the ill being insatiable, they think it needful to give them one dish above commons, to stop their mouths. Now for so much as the great mysteries of Princes are not easy to be discovered, it shall suffice us to know, that * though some of them fall out ill (which I will not deny) yet for the most part we see they are good, * and according to the Proverb, have always an eye on the Sceptre▪ neither do at any time any thing which any man, no not Momus himself, may justly find fault withal, or which is not to be well thought of by all. Behold for example, the reverent and redoubted majesty of the King of Spain, whereby filling men's hearts with the reverence of him, he is as it were adored like an Idol of Princes & Potentates, and you will yield unto me, that with great virtue he maketh himself known for a King, and with great dignity maintaineth his royal estate. Say before your eyes the mild and gracious countenance of the most Christian King of France, his incredible courtesy and affability, whereby as I hear, and as you ought to know, he maketh himself loved and obeyed, rather of his familiars and friends, than servants and subjects, and you will say, that by that humility he exalteth his royal throne, if it might possibly be raised higher. Present to your view (if your eyes be able to behold it without dazzling) the famous government of the Queen of England, the reverence is borne her by strangers, the obedience by her subjects, the fear of some, the love of all, her stoutness in contemning her enemies, her staidness in sticking to her friends, her policy in preventing perils, her clemency in punishing offences, her provident care for her country, her tender love towards her people, her exalting of the good, her disgracing of the ill, her singular humility in most sovereign majesty, her stayed temperancy in most flourishing prosperity, her rare modesty accompanied with exquisite learning, her maidenly chastity, joined with heavenvly beauty, to be short, her unspeakable perfection in all things, and you will say that spite itself can not deface her doings any way, and that in spite of spite she will triumph over all ill tongues, yea and over all those which envy her happiness: you will say with Aristotle, that prudency is only proper to Princes, and with the scripture, that Prince's hearts are in the hand of God, and that he doth direct them by his divine wisdom.  Guaz. 
Why how now Gentleman, what tempest of affection hath carried you thus away into the commendation of a Prince, whom you never saw, nor to whom you are beholding any way? I must & will say in deed that she is the rarest woman of the world, I must confess her government to be most glorious, & the commendations which you give her to be both due and true: but yet I must say, that like a merchant willing to set forth his ware, you have blazed forth her perfections, but you have concealed her faults: you have made no mention how she hath banished out of her country the authority of our holy father the Pope, how throughout all her dominions she hath planted a religion different from the faith which we and our forefathers have been always trained up in: Which faults are so foul, that like a spot in a gorgeous garment, they are a great blemish to the brightness of her renown. But were she void of them, I could not then but say with you, that she were to be thought rather a heavenly Goddess, than an earthly Princess.  Ann. 
If there be nothing else to keep her from heaven but her religion, no doubt but she shall go thither so soon as God shall plague her subjects so sore as to take her from them: For I can tell you this, that the most learned men in the world are of this opinion, that her religion is the very high way to heaven. And though for my part I make no account of it, for that I know it not, neither mean to deal in matters of religion, for that I profess it not, yet if a tree be known by it fruits, no doubt but this tree is good, which bringeth forth such fruits, as the like are not to be found in the whole world again: As first, a Prince endued with such piety, such purity, such good gifts, such rare virtue, that she may be a pattern for all Princes to practise by: then grave & wise counsellors, referring all their thoughts & doings to God's glory, to their Prince's safety, and their country's commodity. Next, a well disposed & orderly commonalty, ruled as much by religion as law, obeying aswell for conscience as for fear: And last of all, continual peace and quietness, which is a singular blessing of God, & an undoubted sign, that he liketh well of her religion, and is well pleased with her proceedings.  Guaz. 
If you can gather so much goodness out of that which I objected against her as a fault, I will hereafter find no more fault with her, but honour her as one without all fault. Therefore I pray you return to the matter we have in hand.  Annib. 
I say then (as I said before) that therefore you ought to think that all the purposes and proceedings of princes, are grounded upon discretion and judgement, and that they do all things better than we are able to proportion them out unto them: of whom I may say that which King Leonidas said, to whom as one objected, Thy kingdom excepted, thou hast nothing more than we: Yea, answered he, but I had not been King, if I had not been better than you.  Guaz. 
That fellow could not be without a reply to beat back the nail again: but perchance he liked better to yield with his tongue, then with his heart, by the example of the Peacock, who said the Eagle was a fairer bird than he, not in respect of his feathers, but of his beak and talents, which caused that no other bird durst stand in contention with him.  Annib. 
Well, I say to you again, that the doings of Princes are blameless, altogether without the compass of our judgement, and always mistaken of us: for those whom we take to be cruel, are just: those whom we suppose to use extremity in justice, use lenity in mercy: those who ordaining new & extraordinary imposts & payments are thought to be covetous, deserve rather to be counted provident and wise, for that they are not moved thereto by avarice, which cannot enter into their noble hearts, but for the conservation of their own estates, & their people. So that the imperfection of our judgements maketh us take all their perfections clean contrary.  Guaz. 
I know not how you can attribute these perfections to all Princes, seeing the histories are full of naughty Emperors and Kings, which lived most wickedly.  Annib. 
I do confess it unto you, neither do I marvel any thing at it, for that they were not Princes by nature, but by violence, neither had they any knowledge of God's word, yea & were rather feared then loved: whereby they themselves were forced to fear others, & to keep them upon their guards, for he that will be feared, must of force fear those which fear him. To be short, they were unjust, disloyal, covetous, lascivious, which rewarded the evil, and persecuted the good, who for a kingdoms sake would have it lawful to break all laws, & they were those in reproach of whom the fable is told of the Lion, who entered into agreement with other beasts, that like good fellows they should distribute the prays which they took amongst them all indifferently. But afterward, every one coming to demand his part, he showed them his teeth, saying, The first part is mine, because I am better than you: I will have the second, for that I am more mighty than you: the third, by reason is due unto me, for that I took more pain in the taking of it than you: and for the fourth, if you will not give it me, I will have it spite of your teeth, & so farewell friendship. And therefore it is not to be marveled at, that these tyrants for the most part died of some violent death, by sword, or by poison. On the otherside you know that the princes of our time, come to their crowns either naturally by succession, or lawfully by election, that they are Christians, and endued with the knowledge of the truth: that they are sent by God, to maintain justice on the earth, to defend us from oppression, to repress the insolent, to reject flatterers, to respect the virtuous, to gratify the good, and to show themselves both in word and deed, no less stayed and unmovable, than the corner stone, or the celestial Pole.  Guaz. 
But for all this, it would like me well (seeing you deny not, but that there are some Prince's subject to some infirmities) that following your course, you would give some precepts, touching the conversation between Princes and private persons, that our discourses may be insufficient in no part.  Annib. 
For so much as you will have me, contrary to my determination, to speak of this matter, I will bind myself only to matters of most importance, and I will leave to you (who are well experienced in the disposition and qualities of Princes) to give judgement what belongeth to them in every point. There are then two special imperfections in Princes, whereby they soon come to lose honour, state, life, soul, and all together. The first is, Ignorance, which carrieth a Prince into many inconveniences. And surely it is a great abuse, that Princes have not the knowledge of good letters, but are feign to use that shift, which an Emperor used, who being reproved, for that he spoke contrary to the rules of Grammar: answered, that if an Emperor were above the laws, much more was he above the rules of Grammar. But he showed thereby, that he knew not that there is nothing more behoveful for the upholding of Empires and kingdoms than learning. For we must think that a Prince void of learning, must needs either behave himself disorderly in his government: for that according to the saying of the Philosopher, ignorance joined with puissance, bringeth forth madness: or else like an infant, he must refer himself wholly to the discretion of others: as the Emperor Galba did, who though he were not altogether without learning, yet he gave himself in prey to 3. of his officers commonly called the Schoolmasters of Galba, who nurtured him in naughtiness, and were the cause of his overthrow.  Guaz. 
Thereupon it is said, that as that Prince doth ill which dealeth in matters of his own head without advise, so he doth scarce well which suffereth himself to be overruled by others, and of a master becometh a servant. And it is a great chance when the Officers see the Prince so very a child, but that they will conspire to cousin him, to set his honour to sale, and to make a very jest and laughing stock of him.  Annib. 
Thereupon it is said that a Country is in better case where the Prince is evil, then where his friends and officers are evil. Now I will speak of the second imperfection, which is covetousness, which being once entered into a Prince's heart, there is no mischief, cruelty, impiety, or wickedness, which it will not persuade him too: yea even to make sale of Offices and of justice, to file his hands with the vile gain of some things, which very private persons would be ashamed to meddle withal, & to seek to have about him such fetching heads, who consume themselves in a manner away, in devising new kinds of extortion & polling, and to set it forth with some goodly title. So that endued with this insatiable mind, he is always ready to procure that the exchequer may be filled full, and the country emptied clean. Of which fault it followeth, that he living always miserable full of suspicion and fear, with a sword still hanging by a hear over his head, he taketh at one time from his subjects liberty, from himself safety, from both tranquillity?  Guaz. 
Now I will say you give to an ill Prince that honour which is due unto him, and I see not why we ought not as freely to blame the ill, as to commend the good, whom God long preserve. But returning to the infirmity of covetousness, I think it much more molesteth and tormenteth the higher sort, than the meaner or lower: and that many Princes have engraven in their hearts the desire of some kingdom, which when they have obtained, yet nevertheless they are never the more satisfied, but grow still in desire of some other: so that this saying may be verified in them, Alexander seemeth great to the world, but the world seemeth small to Alexander.  Annib. 
In truth Alexander ought to be counted poor, or rather wretched: for that he which is not content with that he hath, hath never a whit more, than he, who hath nothing at all. That Prince then, which coveteth to be well spoken off, and well thought off by his subjects, will take heed of those two faults before named: and that (through his ignorance) when matters come in consultation, he may not sit amongst his counsellors, like a dumb dog, he will endeavour himself first, to lay hold of learning and wisdom: whereof he showeth an undoubted sign, in making account of those, who are learned and wise.  Guaz. 
Arestinus being asked, why few Princes nowadays extend their liberality to those that are excellent in Poetry or other arts, as they were wont to do in times past: answered, for that their conscience giveth them how unworthy they are of the praises which by Poets are given unto them: and for other arts, it is daily seen, that a man maketh no account of that, which he knoweth not. Therefore I would in any wise have a Prince learned, both for this and other causes, by you alleged.  Annib. 
Amongst all the learning meet for a Prince, that is the chiefest, which entreateth of matters of state and government: And therefore it is said, that Demetrius exhorted Ptolomey to read many books pertaining to government, for that there he should find many things which his subjects durst not tell him. Next, it behoveth a Prince to fly above all things, that before named, Covetousness, as the head of all mischief: not to suffer so vile and so unworthy a guest to lodge in his house, and to put off a private person, and put on a public, referring all his cogitations to the benefit of his people. Besides this, that he consider with himself, how heavily a Sceptre and Crown do weigh, and if he aspire to the kingdom, in hope of a more secure life, he immitateth him, who climbeth to the top of a high hill, in hope to save himself from lightning and tempest: whereupon one with great reason termed the life of a Prince, a glorious misery: an other called it, a noble bondage: naming moreover, a good king, a public servant. And Tiberius, (as I remember) named the empire, a great beast: Insomuch, that if every man would ponder in his mind the pains, the watchings, the labours, the perils, the vexations, and finally the weighty charge a careful Prince is subject to, it should not perhaps be seen, that two would strive and go to war for one kingdom, but they would rather content themselves to be ruled, then to rule: whereupon a wise prince knowing the weight and danger of so heavy a burden, which he alone for want of strength and knowledge is not able to bear, provideth himself of officers and counsellors, who are seen as well in civil, as martial affairs, for the execution of justice, and conversation of his own state: Remembering the Proverb, that an evil Prince, hath evil sides: that is, evil counsellors. And therefore in making this choice, he taketh good advisement, providing so near as he can, that they be endued with honesty and learning. Wherein Philip, king of Macedon was so presise and circumspect, that only having found out, that one of his officers died his beard, he put him forth of his office: saying, that he could not be true and faithful in public matters, who wrought treachery with his own beard. Besides, he will never conclude any thing without their advice, especially, when justice is to be executed in any thing: remembering how it is said, that when jupiter was minded to bestow any benefit upon mortal creatures, he did it of himself: but when he was disposed to do harm, either by lightning, tempest, war, plague, earthquake, or such like, he assembled the rest of the Gods, and wrought his vengeance by their advise. The Emperor Antonius also used to say, It is more meet that I follow the counsel of so many and such good friends, then to suffer all them to follow the fancy of me alone. A Prince likewise must endeavour to surmount his subjects, not in idleness, but in industry and forecast. And as the celestial things can not stand still, but with continual moving take force: so he ought always to exercise and travail himself in governing his subjects with justice, and in looking to their welfare and profit, in such sort, that he fulfil the saying of the Emperor Adrian, which was, that a kingdom was to be used as a thing belonging to the people, not to the Prince himself. Furthermore, let him be sure to get the good will of his subjects, which is the sure & inexpugnable strength of a realm, which good will he shall get, following the opinion of Titus Vespasianus, showing himself such towards his subjects, as he coveteth to have them towards him. And as there is nothing more hurtful then to be hated, so is there nothing more helpful then to be loved. Which no doubt is gotten with gentleness and courtesy, and therefore no marvel though that Vespasian by a general consent were called the jewel of the world, and the darling of mankind, for that he was always ready to give audience to all men, and not to suffer any to departed out of his sight unsatisfied.  Guaz. 
There is no other thing in truth that maketh the golden world, but the goodness of Princes.  An. 
A prince must not only show himself courteous, affable, & gracious, in conversing with his subjects, but beside, must use his authority modestly, especially in offences committed against himself: wherein it ought to suffice him that he might have taken vengeance: and to imitate those mighty & strong beasts, which never turn again against little curs which run barking after them. Remembering the saying of Cato, that the mighty aught to use their power moderately, that they may use it continually. Whereupon Trajan used to call the Senate Father, and himself their servant. But to use a word for all, we will say, that a good Prince ought to purchase to himself the name of the father of his Country, and not to bear himself otherwise towards his subjects, than a father doth towards his sons. And for so much as out of the example of Cyrus in Xenephon, and of many others, may be perfectly gathered the precepts pertaining to a Prince, it shallbe enough for us to add to that we have already spoken, these three rules: that is, that the Prince make himself well thought of by speaking soberly, that he show his bounty, in forbearing from polling his subjects, and his wisdom in governing himself discreetly. And that Prince which shall observe these rules, may justly say, that he is the lively Image of God: as on the contrary, he may assure himself, that if no mishap befall him in his life, he shall feel in his death this saying verified, That the mighty shallbe mightily tormented. Now let us come to subjects, and their conversation with Princes, which (speaking of Princes in general) I have always thought that subjects ought to avoid so much as they may, for that the good will of Princes kindleth upon a heat, and upon a sudden, but it is by and by blown forth again with the wind of envy, or slander, which is proved by the example of Lysmiacus and Scianus, who were so far in favour, the one with Alexander, the other with Tiberius: who nevertheless fell from their high favour, into most foul disgrace and destruction. Yea, and without fetching so far, we see at this day many of the like chances. And though there be now and then some one which maintaineth himself still in credit, and yet the poor soul always liveth with an unquiet mind, and his master doth continually load him like a good horse, with some burden or other, and never leaveth until he have quite tired him, so that he findeth that saying true, That whether thy Prince love thee, or hate thee, it is all one evil. Whereupon I think not amiss to follow the fable of the earthen vessel, which in no wise would have the company of the brazen vessel. And you know well, that in their company a man cannot utter his mind freely nor do any thing contrary to their pleasure: if he do, he shallbe no friend of Caesar's.  Guaz. 
The conversation of Princes in my judgement is not to be avoided, in any other respect, but for that it taketh away that liberty, which is so acceptable in company, and bringeth us into a certain kind of bondage, which we cannot li●e of long, but we must consider on the other side, how much the being in the Prince's company doth countenance us, how thereby we take away occasion for men to think that through baseness of mind, we abandon the Court: what honour and profit we often reap thereby, and what contentation and pleasure it is to us to be admitted into our Prince's presence, yea, to be in the company and sight of such a Saint, as you spoke of erewhile, I think most heavenly happiness.  Annib. 
You have prevented me right: for I meant to add, that though this conversation be dangerous, & that I myself especially never sought to enter into it, yet being well used, bringeth estimation & profit. Besides, that the Prince excelling us so much in virtue & valour, by how much he is above us in degree, it is also to be thought, that his company availeth greatly to our edification in virtue & goodness. Like as the example of the Prince you but now mentioned, hath made such virtuous, learned, & accomplished Courtiers, that there is not a more flourishing or famous Court in the world. But you are not ignorant, that some, not unlike the earthen vessels, are broken by leading their life with Princes, because they do not behave themselves as behoveth them. And therefore, for their welfare and security, I briefly prescribe unto them, that they be not puffed up with pride & vain glory, nor bear them never the bolder for the favour and good countenance of the Prince: but rather, the more they are exalted, to show the more humility and reverence.  Guaz. 
I like that well, for I have noted, that the Duke my master hath withdrawn his favour from some, who have abused his goodness towards then, whereby their fall was so much the greater, by how much before they were placed higher. And truly I know by proof, that he which will long enjoy the favour of his Prince, must like the Bear, infane wether, be sad to think of the soul that is to come: which doubtful thought, will keep him in such humility & lowliness as Princes like of.  Annib. 
A Man cannot possibly behave himself to reverently towards them. And though it be reported, that when Aristippus could not be heard of Dionysius, he threw himself down at his feet, saying, the fault is not mine, that I commit this idolatry, but the kings, who hath his ears in his feet: yet perhaps it might have been replied to Aristippus, that the fault was his, for that without using due reverence, he would be chéek mate with the Prince. But let us end this matter, charging every one what soever he be, to reverence & obey his Prince with all humility, for that the honour is not given to him, but to God himself, whose minister he is. And what is said of Princes, is to be understood also of Magistrates, not regarding that there are amongst them, which are unjust, cruel, partial, ignorant, corrupt, respectours of persons etc. but having respect to this, that they are the members of the Prince.  Guaz. 
Yet I would gladly have you descend to some particular point belonging to Magistrates: to whom I think there are necessarily some several rules to be prescribed, different from those you set down to Princes, and so much the rather, for that some of them touching their dealings may be amended.  Annib. 
The hurt certainly is inestimable, that cometh by an ill Magistrate, and therefore it is said, That a Sword is put into a mad man's hand, when an office is bestowed upon a naughty person, who is commonly called an Ape in purple. Whereupon we are to advertise Magistrates, that as touching their calling, they be charitable in correcting, upright in judging, and merciful in punishing. And I would have those which begin to grow proud by reason of their preferment, to remember the example of that Ass, which bearing the image of the Goddess Tsides, on his back, and seeing that every one which met him, kneeled down, and did adoration unto him, entered into great pride, and persuaded himself, that that honour was done to him. Into the self same error, some Magistrates fall, who seeing themselves saluted and honoured of every man, imagine that themselves deserve that honour: Not perceiving that for the most part, that honour is not done in respect of any desert of theirs, but in reverence of the Prince, whose image they bear in their head. Nay rather Magistrates in steed of being honoured rightly, and for their own sakes, very often receive (as the Proverb is) wind in a net: and taste meat seasoned rather with smoke then with salt.  Guaz. 
They may well say with our Lord, The people honoureth me with their lips, but their heart is far from me.  Annib. 
It is the saying of a wise man, That he that sitteth worthily in the seat, doth honour to the seat: but he that sitteth unworthily, shameth it. And therefore a discreet Magistrate ought not to take upon him bigly, or to alter his manners in respect of his dignity, which he shall not be sure always to enjoy: but so to use the matter, that he may be respected and honoured, not in respect of his office, but of the good parts which are in himself, to the end that when he shallbe out of office, he may say that he remaineth in honour, without the honour. And touching his conversation with the Prince, this is enough for him, that neither for fear nor hope, he consent at any time to any thing that is unjust: neither to full fill his perverse humour any way. But if it be a grievous fault to consent to the disordinate desires of the Prince, it is much worse to put naughty matters into his head, when he before thought not of them, and to stir him up to wrath, too cruelty, to vengeance, to extortion, and such like.  Guaz. 
Yea, but by your leave, those are the officers which continue longest in favour.  Annib. 
Yea, but where the Prince is wise and virtuous, you shall most commonly see such fellows leave their hire, yea and their hide too behind them, and end their days most miserably and shamefully. The last advertisement to be given to officers in respect of private persons is, that he show himself in countenance severe and terrible, which maketh the guilty afeard▪ & the guiltless bold, which commonly pleaseth the good, and displeaseth the ill, and that he be patiented to hear every man, but especially the poor, neither that he be less liberal of justice, or quick in dispatch towards them, then towards the rich and mighty. But alas, covetousness and ambition bear such sway, that in the judgement place, the offence of the rich is sooner defended, than the innocency of the poor: and pardoning the crows, pigeons are punished. But for that the time passeth away, let us pass to speak of the conversation between the learned, and the ignorant. *  Guaz. 
I think it a matter impossible, for you to tune this later sort in such sort, that they may be acceptable in company to the other sort.  Annib. 
Whereupon ground you that opinion?  Guaz. 
Upon the example of water and wax, which by no means may be incorporated together: I mean, upon the too great diversity of their nature and disposition. You see, that the learned are seldom or never in the company of the unlearned: knowing well that men make no account of that which they know not. And thereof arose the fable of the Cock finding a precious stone, which he set less by them a barley corn.  Annib. 
It is an ordinary saying, that ignorance is a kind of folly. And therefore I would have you consider with me, that there are in the world two sorts of the ignorant: the one foolish, the other wise. I call foolish ignorant, those who are not only rude of understanding, and void of learning, but also have in hatred and disdain all those who are wise and learned: and like natural fools judge all those to be fools, and scoff at them, which make profession of learning: counting themselves happy in that they know nothing, and always persevering in that error. By reason whereof, those who are learned, have reason to fly their company. For to reason of learning amongst learned the honour which is due unto them, but I think it meet to confess, that the learned are as the staff and stay to the weak and feeble: and that of all the things which we possess in this world, only learning is perpetual & immortal, and therefore I take great pity of those who have not the good hap to have it. And it may very truly be said, that it is not so much commendation to a man to be learned, as it is shame to be unlearned. Learning no doubt taketh from a man ignorance, learning directeth him in the course of his life, learning maketh him acceptable to all men, learning is an ornament to him in prosperity, & a comfort in adversity: finally, learning sifting him from the dregs and filth of the common people, serveth him as a ladder to climb to honours and dignities, & raiseth him from earthly vanities, to the contemplation of things Celestial and divine.  Guaz. 
You attribute so much to the honour of learning, that you seem to forget the commendation due to arms: which (as you know) is able to weigh with it, in any ground in Italy.  Annib. 
I am not ignorant, that a parsonage of account being asked whether he had rather be Achilles or Homer, made answer, Tell me thou thyself, whether thou hadst rather be a Trumpeter, or a Captain? But though this answer make for arms, yet I pray you tell me what you think to be the end and mark that wise and worthy men shoot at?  Guaz. 
I think it be to leave behind them that, which may triumph over death, and according to the saying of the Poet.  

May fetch a man forth of his grave,  
and keep him still alive.   Annib. 
You say well: but whereof dependeth this immortality and everliving name?  Guaz. 
Of learning, and histories, whereby it is conserved for ever.  Annib. 
You may see then, that learning is above arms, for that learning of itself is able to purchase immortality: but arms cannot do it without the aid of learning: which Alexander the great knew well enough, who calling Achilles' happy, for that it was his hap to have so excellent a setter forth of his doings, would say no more, but that he desired likewise to light upon one, who with the like grace, would gather into one book, his traveles, conquests, and renowned Acts: which without some such excellent wit, to commend them to posterity, he knew would soon be buried in oblivion.  Guaz. 
I think verily, that without some spur of everlasting praise, few men would be pricked forward to enterprise any thing worthy praise.  Annib. 
We all covet this glory, as the fruit and lawful reward of our travel: and there is no man but is right glad to consecrated his name to immortality. For proof whereof it is told that a certain writer published in print a little pamphlet of his own making, entitled, The contempt of glory, wherein by many notable reasons, he endeavoured to prove that it is a vanity unseemly for a man to gape after glory, in consideration of his own works. But that writer was afterwards charged to have committed the same fault, which he found fault with in others, for that he had set his name in the first page and beginning of his book. Whereby it was apparently known, that if he had contemned glory in deed, as he went about to persuade others by words, he would have caused his book to have been imprinted without his name, which being blazed in the fore front as it was, gave a manifest sign, how desirous he was of glory: but Cicero would never dissemble in that point, who in a long letter, openly, and earnestly requested Luceius to gratify him in three things: The first, that he would set down separately from his other histories, the conspiracy of Catiline, thereby to give immortal fame to his name: the second, that he would add some thing in respect of the friendship which was between them. The third, that he would publish his book with all speed possible, that while he were yet living, he might taste of the sweetness of his own glory. I will not here let pass Augustus, who joined to his last will and Testament his own acts piece by piece, appointing that they should be engraven upon his tomb in pillars of brass. But how many other may a man rehearse, who went canvasing about, and craving for this bruit, & this glory, by the mean either of histories, or of images, or of tombs, or of pictures, or of buildings, or other memorials.  Guaz. 
It seemeth a greater marvel to me, that so honourable a desire should enter into the heart of a common Courtesan, named Trine, who being very rich, such time as Alexander the great razed the walls of Thebes, went and proffered the Thebans to repair them at her own charges, so that they would be content that, to her everlasting fame, she might cause only these words to be engraven in the wall: Alexander razed it, and Trine raised it.  Annib. 
This woman was better to be borne withal, who sought glory with her own money, than some are, who get it at other men's cost, and being not able to leave behind them a good report by help of their own virtue, attribute theevishly to themselves the doings of strangers, of which sort of men, it is not long since that we used some speech. Touching arms, I reply that the deeds of famous Captains & worthy soldiers die with them, if they have not some to set them forth in writing, or unless they have joined to their prowess in arms, the knowledge of good letters. So that by the example of Caesar, they may be able to hold the spear in the rest with one hand, and with the other the pen to write their own acts, which were very necessary, especially in these our days, wherein the memory of divers worthy soldiers, yea, Princes & Gentlemen, who have achieved many valiant exploits, hath been lost, & is yet from time to time lost. Whereas if they had been so well set forth as the famous men were in time past, they should never have had cause to have envied the glory of Annibal, Marcellus, Caesar, or the Scipios, but had been equal to them in every respect.  Guaz. 
Hereby may be gathered how profitable the conversation of the learned men is, & how important it is to have the friendship & familiarity of writers: who with one drop or two of ink, may prolong our life through many ages.  Annib. 
They have power not only to prolong life, but to abridge it. And thereupon a certain Captain used to say, that the pens of writers, pierce the soldiers corselets. We know well how divers writers either to please others, either led by affection, or moved upon some other occasion, have in their histories, contrary to their duty, magnified & exalted above the truth, the doings of some captains, & abased or else concealed the notable enterprises of other some, and by the force of their hand and pen, have lift up the little and thrust down the great.  Guaz. 
Touching that, I remember that P. iovius being blamed for the infidelity of his history, he could not deny it, saying yet that he comforted himself, knowing that when a hundred years were once expired, there would be no man living that could gainsay his writing, so that the posterity should be driven of necessity to give undoubted credit unto them.  Annib. 
Perchance he would not have put himself in that hazard if he had not made his account by the majesty & elegancy of his history, to make all the writers of this time afeard to write against him *. But as the world goeth, those show themselves wise men, which keep the learned their friends, & which receive them into their favour and protection: not so much for their own behoof, as for the love of virtue, which thing brought great glory to Alexander, to Augustus, & to Maecenas, who bestowed honours & marvelous rewards upon divers grammarians, Orators, Poets, & philosophers. Neither think I meet to let pass the example of Pius the second, who in the wars of his time gave express commandment that the honour, goods, & life of the people of Arpines should be spared, in the remembrance of Tully, who was that country man, and for that there were many there living, which bore his name *. But it is good to set down some form of conversation to the learned, & to put them in remembrance in the first place, the learning maketh a man glorious & haughty, * which is confirmed by Accius the Poet, who took so bigly upon him, by reason of his learning, that Caesar the Emperor entering into the college of Poets, he would not vouchsafe to salute him, thinking himself better then him. I truly was ever of this mind, that as a tree, the more it is taken with fruit, the more it bendeth to the ground: so a man, the more he is stored with learning, the more he ought to humble himself. For that the ground of true virtue is humility: neither is any man's name so bright, but that by pride it is obscured. * And therefore the learned aught neither to hide their knowledge without fruit, neither to show it upon vain glory, but for their profit and preferment. They ought also to conform their life to their learning, for that knowledge is no better in a naughty man, then good wine put into a musty vessel. They ought likewise to employ their learning to the benefit of others, and to make others partakers of it. For that a man doth not possess pleasantly any good thing without company, so that they ought to take pains to instruct others, in that they themselves are skilful in: and they must begin to learn to teach.  Guaz. 
I think it also convenient for the learned in conversation and company, to take heed of affectation, whereby they make themselves rather disliked then commended.  Annib. 
I meant even now to have told you, that that same is the error of some learned men, who being in the company of the unlearned, take delight to speak amongst them like a master that readeth to his scholars, and as if they were in the midst of learned men and Philosophers, they make arguments in mood and figure, and discourse with terms, which are only understood of the learned: and thereby they offend the ears, and turn the minds of the hearers from giving attention to their talk. A man ought then especially amongst the ignorant to use such familiar kind of learning, & with such discretion, that it may serve rather for sauce to get than a stomach, then for meat to fill & cloy them, so that the unlearned may have in detestation their own ignorance, and in admiration his knowledge.  Guaz. 
He that shall know how to keep this way, which you have proposed, shall no doubt give and receive great coontentment in the company of the ignorant, who without any difficulty will allow of that he shall say, and have him in great honour for it.  Annib. 
One said, that as some ships seem great upon the river, which show very little upon the Sea: so some seem learned amongst the ignorant, which have but a little when they come amongst the learned. And it can not be denied, but that in all companies, he ruffleth most, and taketh pleasure to utter that which is in him, who knoweth himself to be chief and best seen in the matter which is spoken of. But for all that, he must not persuade himself that he ought not to hear the unlearned speak, or to make any reckoning of them: For that there are men to be found, who though they be not endued with learning, yet they have a good wit of their own, and are able to compass their matters well enough, and bring them to a good end: insomuch that many, who are learned, seem but fools in respect of them. Like as a scholar came to an artificer, to crave his devotion, saying, That he was master in the seven. Artes. But the Artificer answered him, I am more learned than thou art, for that with one Art only, I nourish myself, my wife, and children, where as thou canst not keep thyself alone with seven.  Guaz. 
Now I pray you give the ignorant some instructions, whereby they may in conversation get the favour of the learned.  Annib. 
We have already, if you remember in the beginning of our discourse, enjoined unto them silence, as a most singular thing, which nevertheless they keep very ill. For that in company, if you mark it, those which know least, speak, contend, and cry the loudest. Whereof belike ariseth this Proverb, That the brokenest wheel of the chariot maketh always the greatest noise.  Guaz. 
A man might contrariwise apply another Proverb to the learned, That where the river is deepest, it runneth quietest.  Annib. 
The second advise is, that being in the company of the learned, they remember that they are unlearned. For by that means they will be wary what they speak: for it is the saying of a Philosopher, that he never offendeth in those things he knoweth not, who knoweth that he doth not know them. And contrariwise he is ignorant and doth amiss, who thinketh he knoweth, that he doth not know. Thirdly, they are to be advertised, that amongst the degrees of superiority before spoken of, this is one, that the wise command over the ignorant: whereas it is their part to be silent without standing obstinately in contention: for that there is nothing in this world more odious than an ignorant person, which will contend with the learned, like as the Pie did with the Nightingale in music. And therefore as it is the part of one that is learned, gently to impart to the ignorant that which he knoweth, so is it the part of the ignorant to ask, without hiding his ignorance, that which he knoweth not, & rather to confess not to know, than to profess to know: for the one is a sign of modesty, the other of arrogancy.  Guaz. 
It were not amiss, yet to use a little skill in confessing the want of skill, that it turn not to our open shame. But it were no great matter, if one did like a good gentleman of our country, whom a stranger asked what history it was that was painted about his hall: the Gentleman said, stay here I pray you a little, & I will return to you by & by, that said, he went hastily to the study of a brother of his, who was a Doctor, & bringing him with him into the hall where the stranger was, he said unto him, brother, I pray you make answer unto this Gentleman.  Annib. 
But perhaps it will be a hard matter to find in every house so much as one, who with his wisdom is able to supply others ignorance. But let us return to say that the ignorant aught to honour the learned, and to seek their company, which will make them more politic, more wise, and more virtuous. For if you mark it, those which are unlearned, lightly give themselves too dishonest doings: for seeing that they cannot get the favour of the Prince nor any preferment any way, for lack of learning and virtue, they endeavour to set up themselves, either by flattery, either by promoting, either by slandering, or by false accusing, and other naughty means, which those that are learned, will never lightly use: but enough of this. And for that we said but erewhile, that the learned receiveth great contentment in the company of the unlearned, let us now consider how little that contentment is in respect of that which he receiveth being in the companine of his like: For no doubt a learned man taketh much more pleasure in the company of the learned, who know, yea, and allow better of his learning, then in the company of the ignorant, who understand it not so well, neither are able to judge of it. Besides, when he is amongst the ignorant, he taketh pleasure only in that which he himself giveth. But when he is with the learned, he delighteth both in it, which he giveth, & that he receiveth: for that by turns he doth both teach and learn. Moreover, he hath another contentment, to know that where is greatest conformity in estate, in life and in study, there is greatest agreement in good will and amity, and consequently greater pleasure and contentment, * yea, that effect is bred among them, which is found amongst flowers, which being separated one from another give a good smell, but being bound together in a posy, they recreate the spirits a great deal more, like as it was well said by a Poet, 
Two good men joined together, do  
in goodness more excel:  
And roses joined with lielies have,  
a great deal sweeter smell.   
Yea, it is a Philosophers saying, that one in comparison of two is no body. * And truly amongst all other companies, and societies, there is not any more firmly and nearly linked together, than this of the learned: who for the most part love better amongst themselves, than kinsfolk and brethren do: agreeing in like studies, and like affections, they can not but take pleasure one in another, and reduce themselves from the number of many as it were into one united body.  Guaz. 
All other assemblies may be well termed strange and external, and this same familiar and internal, wherein the minds are exercised in reasoning, teaching, and discoursing of things, which appertain to the knowledge of virtue and goodness. And these are the true friendships, which last long.  Annib. 
It is a common saying, that the bonds of virtue bind more straightly, than the bonds of blood. And in truth one good man may be said to be a near kinsman to another good man, by the conformity of their minds and manners. *  Guaz. 
Hereby I imagine how great the concord, the pleasure, & the profit is, which is reaped by the Academy of the illustratie (as they term them) established in this city.  Annib. 
You are deceived in your imagination, for this Academy being assembled in the name of God, you may well think, that he is in the midst of them, and that he maintaineth it in peace and amity. What comfort every one receiveth by it, I cannot sufficiently set forth unto you: for that I have tried in myself and seen plainly in other academics, that there is not any one so afflicted with the common miseries of this city, and with his private troubles, who setting once his foot into the hall of the Academy, seemeth not to arrive at the haven of tranquillity, and beginneth not to clear his mind of care: casting his eyes about the hall to see those goodly devices, full of profound mysteries. I may well say of myself, that when my body is shut within it, all my irksome thoughts are shut out: the which attend me at the door, and at my going out get upon my shoulders, but touching the good which cometh of his happy assembly, you may be assured in thinking to yourself what diversity of learning is there handled, sometimes with public lectures, sometimes with private reasonings, which breed that delight, which cometh of giving and receiving, as we have said before. And I may say without arrogancy that the Academy, borrowing me as it were to read in Philosophy, hath paid me home with interest, being not only bettered in that part, but also moved with some knowledge in divinity, poetry, and other laudable sciences, whereof I know I am not altogether void.  Guaz. 
I have noted by long experience, that for the most part those are smally accounted of, in company, which have bestowed all their study in one only profession: For drawing them once out of that, you shall find them very sots and fools. Whereas on the contrary, those are very well thought of, who besides their chief profession are able to discourse reasonably well and with discretion of other matters: In so much that the knowledge they show in those buy matters, bringeth them so much the more honour, by how much they are estranged from their ordinary profession. Wherefore seeing in company we commonly devise of diverse things, leaping from one matter into another, there is nothing, in my judgement, that doth us more honour, or maketh us better liked of, in good company, then to be ready at all assays, and have a mouth for every matter: to be able to perform which, I consider that the company of many learned men is very available, like as that of the Academies is.  Annib. 
We have already said that it is not in one man to speak sufficiently of all things, by reason of the shortness of his life, but for so much as all learning is not in one alone, it is good that many assemble together to make amongst them one perfect man, as it falleth out in those learned companies.  Guaz. 
Seeing the conversation of these academics is so available, I look you should set down some orders for them, which they ought to observe, to maintain themselves long in agreement and amity.  Annib. 
I should think I should commit a fault if I should speak any thing of that, for that it were according too the Proverb to instruct Minerva: knowing that it is in them rather to teach, then to be taught the orders of conversation. Besides that, they have laws and orders set down in writing, by force whereof, friendship and concord is inviolably kept amongst them.  Guaz. 
I pray you yet at the least, to tell and recount unto me the order of the Academy of the illustrati in this city, and to declare unto me the original of it, and what is the manner of their conversation together.  Annib. 
If I should thoroughly satisfy your request, this day would not be enough to do it, but to content you somewhat, I briefly say unto you that these academics desirous to travail continually for their own glory, & the universal benefit, have proposed unto themselves the enterprise of the sun, which going out of the Horizon, ascendeth to the opposite of the moon, which setteth in the West, and upon this devise, are set these words. Lux indeficiens, with the name of Illustrati.. The laws of the Academy are a great many, but they are referred all, chief to the honour of God, and conservation of the state of the Academy. In proposing of matters, in discoursing and in answering, they proceed with great respect and reverence, without tumult, without confusion. And in giving of voices every one preferreth his ancient before him, as touching private congregations, some are called for the creation of the Prince, counsellors, Censors, and other Officers: who are made by secret voices, and they continue but from four months to four. Some to hear the discourse of some Academike, who loveth not to do it publicly: some to admit the new Acadmikes that were before chosen by privy voices: and to to hear their speeches, wherein they render thanks too the Prince and the academics. Some to confer of those things which are to be handled in public: and then there are ordinarily made lectures and discourses of divers matters, and by two academics the compositions and works of the Academy are red, and afterwards the writings and doings of strangers. Every two months they change their Prince, and in that ceremony, the old Prince giveth up his throne and delivereth the seal of the Academy too his successor, who placing himself in the others seat, taketh possession of the principality: which is done in every point with such state and majesty, that I am not able to express it. Which you may imagine by the great multitude, not only of Citizens, but of strangers, which are present at it. Moreover, it happeneth sometime, that some Academike is married, and then the bride and other gentlewomen with her, are invited to this assembly: where she is honoured with great pomp and solemnity, with pleasant discourses, with commendatory verses, with music & such like. Like as my Lady Francis your cousin was, to whom in open assembly there was given in the name of the academics a Carcanet of gold, which you may perhaps have seen about her neck, whereon the one side, is bravely set forth, the devise or arms of the Acacademie: and on the other side, the devise of your brother: but something altered, for whereas that hath a flying swan, with a branch of bay in her mouth, & this writing on it (above the skies) this hath beside the shadow of the same swan, and the posy is changed, which is (Be a mate in this manner) meaning that she ought to follow the steps of her husband, as the shadow did the swan, They use also at the death of any of the academics to make funeral assemblies, in honour of him with such gravity and sadness that it is wonderful. I could rehearse unto you many other notable things, but I will omit them for the time is short, which we have to bestow in other matters, we will only say then, that the conversation with the learned standeth us in marvelous steed, delighteth us much, and is the cause of great love and amity. Which is showed by the fable of Narcissus, who being without company, so soon as he saw himself in a fountain, fell in love with himself: and therefore nothing being more like unto us, than our Image, it may be well said, that when one that is learned loveth an other that is learned, that both of them love nothing else, but their own Image in an other. And it may be likewise said, that this their friendship is perpetual, as well as the love of ones self is. Now let us come to the conversation between strangers and Citizens.  Guaz. 
Seeing we have but a little time left, it were bette● to omit this matter, as a thing little and seldom happening.  Annib. 
Let us at least show unto the Citizen, that it is his part to have a pitiful eye towards strangers, and to consider, that being far from their country, parents and goods, being deprived of all those commodities which we enjoy in our own houses, they are to be succoured with all aid and favour possible, and especially those, which are in necessity: For no doubt, he that receiveth them into his lodging, purchaseth to himself a lodging and abiding place in heaven, by means of his charitable courtesy: yea we must know, that this work is so acceptable to God, that he that giveth only a cup of cold water to drink, in the way of charity, shall not go without reward▪ And though the commodities here below are not to be compared with the heavenly rewards, yet let us think what honour and profit the good entertainment which we give to strangers bringeth us: for that those, which keep open house for strangers, do not only win credit in their own country, but without setting foot out of the precinct of their own territory, they are known, and honourably reported of in foreign countries: besides that, they are sure, when they travail, to find friends, money, and secure at need.  Guaz. 
It is a great contentment to a man, to see himself esteemed, and made much off by his parents and friends, in his own country: but that is but a trifle in respect of the good it doth a man, when he seeth himself entertained and honoured, where he is scarcely known. And therefore you shall easily persuade me to perform this duty towards strangers, towards whom I feel myself marvelously well affected, for that in my travail. I received at their hands great courtesy.  Annib. 
For that cause I was about to tell you, that those show themselves most hoggish and cruel to strangers, who never went out of their country: Who for that they have not felt the inconveniences, and discommodities of travel, have no consideration of the state of strangers, neither are moved with any compassion towards them. Wherein they are greatly too blame, for that they ought too show to strangers more courtesy & honour, then to their own countrymen. Being the saying of a Philosopher▪ that a stranger when he is deprived of his friends and parents, is to be pitied both of God and men. And therefore being in company with them, we ought to use great respect towards them, both in deed and word, forbearing finding of faults, and other boldness, which we might lawfully use towards our own countrymen, yea, and to cloak and to bear rather with their imperfections. So that some are of this opinion, that we ought not to deal ill with strangers, though they deserve it.  Guaz. 
It is very true, but yet oftentimes strangers are worse used, than they should be by their own fault, when they will be of household with us in a manner, and be more familiar & bold, than they ought to be, which maketh them far the worse.  Annib. 
And therefore it shallbe the part of a stranger, being in another man's house, not to take upon him presumptuously, but to behave himself so modestly, that every man may love and favour him▪ For as if he set himself forward too much, he shallbe pulled back with shame: so if he hang back, he shallbe halled forward with honour. He must also in company use the same behaviour in word and deed towards you, as you are bound to do towards him: whereby your conversation may be acceptable on both sides. It remaineth to speak of the Conversation between the secular and the religious.  Guaz. 
You may have soon done if you will, seeing that now a days this Conversation happeneth but one day in the year, and of that day but one half hour only, which is spent in confessing our sins: which done, we not only fly the Conversation, but the very presence of our ghostly father.  Annib. 
To whom impute you the fault of this seldom conversation, to the religious, or to the lay people▪  Guaz. 
It can not be ascribed to the religious (for they seek both us and ours) but to us, who fly from them.  Annib. 
And why think you, we fly from them?  Guaz. 
The Devil belike persuadeth us not to come at them, nor to have them in any reverence or honour, because some of them are sprinkled with some imperfections.  Annib. 
It was demanded of a Pope, whether it were lawful for Priests now a days to minister the Sacrament in wooden Chalices, as they did in times past: who answered nothing else, but that in old time golden Priests ministered in wooden Chalices, and now wooden Priests minister in golden Chalices. To like effect is this saying, That there is in the world scarcity of Priests, and plenty of Priests, that is, too many in the bare name, too few that rightly execute the office. But it ought to suffice us to know, that they have the name and the true calling of Ministers, and that God hath given them unto us, not that we should be judges of their doings, but followers of their doctrine. And those which like not their company, no doubt offend greatly, and suffer to enter into their minds the wicked spirit, enemy to religion, and the Christian faith. But true Christians can not deny, but that the company of the religious is greatly available: For that by their doctrine they keep us in the right way, and by their outward gravity only they give us an example to do well. I for my part, never yet met with any of the Ministry carrying so evil a report, or leading so lewd a life, but that by his company, I was rather stirred then stayed from well doing: And I have always been of this mind, that nothing but good can happen unto him which frequenteth their company. We must then leave it to God to judge of their life, and being amongst them, we ought to forbear all lewd speeches and behaviour, whereby their godly ears may be offended, and GOD himself dishonoured, and to have them in continual reverence and honour: * Forso much as they are the messengers of GOD, and bring the glad tidings of the Gospel unto us. Yea, and are termed in holy scripture the salt of the earth, the light of the world, a Candle upon a Candlestick, giving light to all which are in the house of GOD, a picked seed, a holy nation, and finally, Stars and Angels. So that all the honour and reverence we do to them, we may assure ourselves is done to GOD himself. * You are not ignorant on the other side, that the duty of the Clergy is, in conversing with the laity, to beware how they so much as speak any thing tending to evil example, or giving suspicion of an ill disposed mind. Remembering the saying, That the vain words of temporal men, are mere blasphemies in the mouth of spiritual men. * And before they go about to inform other in godliness, they must reform themselves from naughtiness: For it is in vain to go about to make the shadow strait, if the body which giveth the shadow be crooked. They must also in teaching and reprehending, be neither too sharp nor too gentle, but tempered between the rod and the staff: with the one to strike us, with the other to stay us. * They aught also by their good life & doctrine to amend our naughty lives, and to stir us up to reverence them, by showing themselves more devout, more just, more faultless, then us, for there is nothing that doth more dishonour the church of God, than that lay-men are for the most part of better life & conversation, then spiritual men are.  Guaz. 
If I remember the division which you made of the kinds of Conversation, there remaineth no more for us to speak of, but the conversation with women.  Annib. 
It was very meet this discourse should be reserved to the end, to refresh us being weary with the long journey we have gone this day.  Guaz. 
I doubt me, that devising of this conversation in steed of refreshment, we shall feel greater travel and torment, or else I most say, that your taste differeth much from mine, for that I have always thought the conversation of women, not only vain and unprofitable, but dangerous and hurtful: and if you feel any spirit in you, repugnant too this my opinion, conjure it, and drive it out of you by the virtue of three notable sentences. The first is, that if the world could be mayteined without women, we should live like GOD himself. The second, that there is nothing in the world worse than a woman, be she never so good. The third, that the naughtiness of a man is better than the goodness of a woman.  Annib. 
These three sentences serve rather to keep in, than to cast out the spirit which is within me: and I see well you respect nothing, but the outward bark. But if the sharpness of your understanding will pierce into the pith, you shall find that those speeches have not been used in reproach of women, but in reproof of men's incontinency, and frailty. Who offend sooner in frequenting honest women, then noghtie men? For that haunting the company of Usurers, thieves, adulterers, slanderers, and such like, of evil Conversation, they will not suffer themselves so soon to be tempted and taken by their naughtiness, as in accompanying with women. For though they be never so chaste and honest, yet men will be moved with a lascivious and disordinate desire towards them: which is verified by that which is said, Thou canst neither be more learned than David, neither more strong than Samson, neither more wise than Solomon, who notwithstanding have fallen by means of women. Behold the very juice and true meaning of the sentences by you alleged, the which I will say once more, are more meet to keep in my spirit, then to cast him out. For if it be so that virtue consist in things difficult and uneasy, I think to do a virtuous act to conjure my senses to be quiet, and not to be moved any thing with the presence and company of women: amongst whom I have gotten the habit to live in this my tranquillity of mind.  Guaz. 
Your Philosophy perchance hath so mortified you, that you can promise yourself the constancy of that Philosopher whom a woman took for an image. But I must tell you, that virtue is given to few, & it is known that not only the common sort of men, but even hermits themselves have let their Portis fall out of their hands at the sight of women.  Annib. 
If I be not of the order of that Philosopher, neither am I of the disorder and lightness of those who are in love with every one they look on, and have so little hold of themselves, that they will be lost in the looks of a woman, and are no more to be seen in themselves. Yea▪ their folly is so great, that if a woman show but a merry countenance, make some sign by chance, or use any other gesture, they apply it all to themselves, as done in their favour, and filled with a thousand vain pleasures, and oftentimes make court to such a one, whose mind is far of both from them, and their purpose.  Guaz. 
And this is also a fault of women, who are commonly said to be like death, for that they follow those who fly them, and fly those which seek them.  Annib. 
Honest women fly in deed those which follow them dishonestly. Yea, and the unhonest fly too, though they suffer themselves soon to be overtaken. But you shall never find woman so shameless, but that she thinketh it a fault to follow others, and will be first sued to herself. So that the fault is not as you say in the woman, but in the man. But you seem to be a very rebel against women.  Guaz. 
I am no rebel unto them, for that I never promised or swore faith or fealty unto them. But how can a man love them that are called women, of the woe and hurt they bring to men.  Hannibal. 
And why not of the woe and hurt they drive from men, which is confirmed by God himself, who saith, he made them for a help and comfort to man.  Guaz. 
What, to help to consume a man as the Poet said?  

Lesbian doth suck the purse and body dry,  
to buy love so dear, is most extreme folly.   Annib. 
That is not the Conversation that we are to speak of, and it seemed very strange to me, that you being a Courtier should profess yourself such an enemy to women.  Guaz. 
Pardon me I pray you, I mistook you then, for so soon as you began to speak of the Conversation of women: I thought you had meant of those with whom men try their manhood withal in amorous encounters. For I think that those which make profession of the life, aught to learn, the means how to traffic together in such sort, that they may live long time together in love and liking. And touching women of honesty and reputation, you know well that it is my part not only to reverence them, but to maintain and defend their honour and good name, both with word and with sword. Yea, though duty did not constrain me to do it, yet affection should carry me to it, having been always most desirous of their favour.  Annib. 
We can not (saving our honour) speak of the Conversation which you mean: and in my fancy it is our parts rather to overthrow it, then to build it up, as a thing unworthy of the civil Conversation. And to the end you remain no longer in suspense, I would have you with me think this, that the nature of man is inclined to nothing more than to the love of women. But that we may not be deceived, we must know, that there is one Venus in heaven, and another in earth: the latter is, the mother of wanton love, the other, of honest affection. Wanton love is nothing else but a passion, which blindeth the understanding, perverteth the mind, confoundeth the memory, wasteth the goods, weakeneth the body, withereth youth, killeth age, which is the breeder of vices, an inhabiter in idle and empty heads, which is a thing without reason, without order, & without any stay, a fault proper to fools, and which is the abridger of man's liberty.  Guaz. 
It appeareth you are well acquainted with our Boccace, seeing you remember so well his sayings, whereto may be added, that of the Poet, 
I see the thing I do, the truth which to my cost,  
I know, no whit doth me deceive, yet love so rules the roast:  
that who so followeth it, no virtue follow shall,  
for unto lewdness & to vice, it doth him daily call.   Annib. 
For conclusion, so soon as this love hath taken root in the heart, in the same instant are lost goods, honesty, renown, virtue, yea, body & ●oule. And therefore all those who are followers of this fond brutish love, are to be admitted only into the company of incontinent and naughty women. For they are not worthy the presence and entertainment of the honest & virtuous. Next followeth the heavenly love, which being enamoured with the beauties of the mind, is the cause of much good, and of many commendable effects. For it maketh men affable, discreet, courteous, painful, patient, valiant, and as a brave writer hath already said, It taketh from men all rude and clownish behaviour, it maketh them familiar in company, pleasant at the Table, amiable every way. It is the chief bringer in of mercy, and banisher of cruelty: it breedeth friendship, and driveth away hatred: it is it which maketh a man friendly, liberal, desirous to do well, and loath to do ill: it is a wise guide in our travails, in our desires, and in our words: to conclude, it is the most perfect ornament of man's life. And truly, if you mark the order of feasts, plays, and merry meetings of friends, you will say, that all those assemblies are cold and nothing delightful, if there be no women at them. For as men in their presence pluck up their spirits, and endeavour by words, gestures, and all other ways to give them to understand how desirous they are of their favour and good will, so you ought to think, the object being out of their eyes, they will become careless, mannerless, and less ready to commendable enterprises. To be short, women are they which keep men waking and in continual exercise: yea, I think there is no man so lazy and drowsy, but that he will open his eyes when he heareth talk of women. And so soon as he spieth coming a far of, her whom he hath placed most near to his heart, I warrant you he setteth his ruffs, he turneth his Cap and feather the right way, he pulleth up his cloak about his shoulders, he standeth a-tiptoe, he showeth a joyful and smile countenance, and he seemeth to be become a new man, that he may be more acceptable to the sight of his mistress, in whose presence he changeth colour, and looketh pale, by reason that his heart abandoneth his body to follow her, being drawn as it were by it own image.  Guaz. 
Women do the very same, who I warrant you would not be so fine, so trimmed and tricked up, so amiable every way, but of a desire to please men.  Annib. 
You see then that this love is no less mutual than honest.  Guaz. 
Yea, but if this love were so honest as you make it, you should not see men show themselves more affectionate to the fair then to the foul, to the young then to the old. But you see few take pleasure either in overworn antiquities, or unseemly deformities. By reason whereof it is easy to be known, that they are in love rather with the body than the mind: and that their love is earthly, and fleshly, which you have already banished out of good company.  Annib. 
Women did the like for all the world towards men. For I know some of them which are very angry in their minds, when their chance is to be led in a dance, either by a child or an old man: whereas on the contrary they are very glad when they have gotten a young man by the hand.  Guaz. 
In my opinion they have great reason in it, for that as a wise man saith, pleasures and favours are not to be done either to a child or to an old man. For the one forgetteth them, the other dieth before he have occasion to requite them.  Annib. 
That is not the occasion which moveth them to do so. And to avoid all confusion, we must consider that love is a desire of beauty, and that beauty is of three sorts, to wit: of the mind, of the body, and of the speech. The first is discerned by the understanding, the second by the eyes, the third by the ears. And therefore it is said that the three graces represent those three parts. So long then as love is guided only by the eyes, the ears, and the mind, it is without question, honest, & wise lovers ought to content themselves only with the fruition of those fruits, without thinking or seeking any farther. And contrariwise, it cannot be counted honest, or deserve the name of love, but of lust & folly, when they are moved to it by any other of their senses. Now we are here to consider, that naturally our minds are most drawn thither, where beauty doth most abound: & therefore no marvel if men for the most part address themselves more willingly towards the fair & young, than the foul and old: for that in the fair and young commonly those three sorts of beauty concur, of the mind, of the body, and of the speech. Whereas in the foul and the old the beauty of the body is wanting, which in the foul faileth by nature, and in the old by length of tyme. The same reason may serve to show why women in banquets and dancing make more account of young men then of children or old men, for that in children there is no other beauty to be seen but that of the body: for the two other are wanting, I mean of the speech which consisteth in pleasant devise, and fine filled talk, and of the mind which is showed in discreet behaviour and virtuous deeds, which cannot be ripe and perfect in them. In old men is to be found only the beauty of the mind and of the speech, for that they have not that of the body, which is worn away with time. But all the three beauties meet together for the most part in young men. And though this inclination be common to men and women, yet you see some men fall in love sooner with an old woman then with a young, and with a foul then with a fair: which happeneth likewise to some women, which bear fervent affection to some men who are altogether bereaved of the beauty of the body, and in a manner deformed, but happily endued with virtue, pleasantly conceited, and valiantly given. A man can not term this folly or lack of judgement. For it must be said that a woman casting her fancy to a man of unseemly parsonage, doth naturally make small account of that outward beauty, and is induced to love him in respect of the other beauties of speech, and of the mind: and that a man doth the like towards a woman. Neither ought we to think it strange that some lovers, the older, they wax the more fervently they love one another: but we ought to judge their love the more perfect. For touching the woman the more she groweth in years, the more ripeness the beauty of her mind groweth to, & the older the man waxeth, the better he is able to discern the beauties of his mistress, whereby his love the more increaseth. But for that my chief purpose is not to discourse of love, but of the conversation with women, it shall suffice us to know, that there is no man in the world so blockish, or such a Cimon, who being in love, calleth not his wits about him, and waxeth not more wise: who by honest love, and the courteous and pleasant company of women, feeleth not himself inflamed with virtuous and heavenly thoughts, and who besides other laudable studies, is not thereby stirred up to Poetry. And thereof it cometh, that Apollo vaunting himself to have been the cause of the work of a certain Poet, fraught full of amorous devices, Venus withstood the matter, saying, That that Poet had remained mute, if her son had not hit him with his golden shaft. Now touching the Conversation with women, all men ought to know this, that they ought to do them all the honour and reverence possible, and that Romulus made a law whereby he ordained, that in assemblies men should always set women above them. And though every man for the most part addresseth his service to some one above the rest, and maketh her the star by whose aspect he doth direct all his doings, yet we must not cease to show duty and reverence to all: and to show ourselves both in deeds and words desirous of their good will and favour: taking heed how we say or do any thing at any time to their shame and reproach. For there is nothing that doth more dishonour and defame a man then that: whereby he not only looseth his reputation, but also (being in the disfavour of women) is deprived of that contentation, which otherwise he should receive in their company. Wherefore it is best for a man always to employ his tongue to their praise, never discommending them either openly or secretly, either upon spite or in a rage, or upon what occasion soever.  Guaz. 
I think nothing in the world more difficult then to take from women an evil opinion, which they have once conceived against a man.  Annib. 
You know they are easy to admit an accusation against a man, but hard to remit his offence. And as nothing maketh them stomach us more than to dispraise them, so there is nothing maketh them fancy us more, then to commend them. And for that cause, I have known many women which bore more favour to the professors of learning and Poetry, then to any other. Furthermore, he that frequenteth the company of women, must not enter into strife, and contention with them, or seek too get the better in reasoning with them. For by such overthwart and obstinate dealing, there is nothing gotten at their hands, but ill wil Therefore it is ever better rather to soothe them, then thwart them in their sayings. But I will end this matter, concluding that a man cannot do amiss, so that he honour, serve, and obey them, and omit nothing that may admit him into their favour. On the other side, women ought to consider that men will not be so ready to do them honour, if in Conversation they behave not themselves modestly, according to their calling and kind: and dispose not their doings in such sort, that men may like and think well of them. To bring which to pass, they are chief to take heed of one fault which many of them hardly reframe from, that is, from talking too much.  Guaz. 
Do not you know the Proverb, that three women make a mereat?  Hannibal. 
I know also that it is commonly said, That where is least heart, is most tongue. And therefore silence in a woman is greatly commended: for it setteth her forth much, and maketh her thought to be very wise. Yea, she must not only have regard to keep her tongue, but beside to accompany her words, her laughter, her looks & behaviour, with such a grave & stately majesty, as beseemeth a matron, which I say, because there are in the world divers women both honest, virtuous, and witty, who carry the name of matrons, and yet in their outward behaviour, they show themselves foolish, riggishe, and reckless. There are other some of them, who being good elderly women, use themselves like young wanton girls, & being women, behave themselves as boldly as men: whereby they much diminish their credit and reputation. Moreover, there are some, who coveting to be counted unreasonable honest, frown so ill favouredly, and set such a solemn and sour countenance on the matter, that they make men think them rather proud then honest: and in steed of being well thought of, they make themselves ill liked of. Yea, and by that coy cloud, the bright shining of their beauty and virtue is overcast.  Guaz. 
Thereupon the Poet said.  

That in a proper piece many good parts are hid  
by curious niceness, which to none as yet good ever did.   
And surely, they are much deceived in their reckoning, which think to be thought more honest, by using dainty coyness. For they consider not how bounty & courtesy are nothing repugnant to honesty, but rather always accompany it.  Annib. 
I might here well speak of many women of our city, who by the lowliness of their looks, the comeliness of their persons, the sweetness of their words, the quickens of their capacity, the modesty of their behaviour, and decency of manners, make men greatly delighted in their company. But for that the time would fail me to speak, namely and sufficiently of them all, and that the worthiness of some of them is so great, that without suspicion of envying their perfection, I cannot with silence overpass it, I am minded to present one unto you (without naming her) upon whom all the graces and perfections that may be, are abundantly bestowed.  Guaz. 
She hath great cause to stand upon her pan●osles, and to think her half penny better silver than other women's.  Annib. 
If she should do so, she should lose much of that honour and reputation she hath: for that which chief maketh men have her in admiration is, that notwithstanding the surpassing excellency, which is in her, she maketh no more account of herself then other women do: and seemeth to show, that she doth not know what good parts are in her. So that by this discrete humility, she is exalted to higher dignity, and men have her in the more honour. I say then that this Lady in conversation is singular, and marvelous: for of all the noble parts in her, you shall see her make a most delightful harmony. For first, to the graveness of her words, agreeth the sweetness of her voice, and the honesty of her meaning: so that the minds of the hearers entangled in those three nets, feel themselves at one instant to be both moved with her amiableness, and bridled by her honesty. Next, her talk and discourses are so delightful, that you will only then begin to be sorry, when she endeth to speak: and wish that she would be no more weary to speak, than you are to hear. Yea, she frameth her gestures so discreetly, that in speaking, she seemeth to hold her peace, and in holding her peace, to speak. Moreover, when she knoweth a matter perfectly, and discourseth of it discreetly, to the great commendation of her wit, yet she will seem to speak of it very doubtfully, to show her great modesty. She will also in talk cast oft times upon a man such a sweet smile, that it were enough to bring him into a fools Paradise, but that her very countenance containeth such continency in it, as is sufficient to cut of all fond hope. And yet she is so far from solemn looks, and distributeth the treasure of her graces, so discreetly and so indifferently, that no man departeth from her uncontented. Yet for all that, you must not think that she is over prodigal of her courtesy. For I can assure you this, she winneth more hearts even with very slender rewards, than other women do with the greatest favours they can possibly show, And though she give good countenance to all, yet she beholdeth them most graciously, and who bestow their time in learning, or otherwise most commendably: in whose company she taketh singular pleasure, which is a manifest sign of her virtuous disposition. But see the great wrong, which envious fortune doth to noble minds, in not extolling her to the state and power of a Princes, that she might be able as well to prefer and bring the virtuous to promotion, as she doth now honour them, by bearing them singular affection. I cannot sufficiently set forth unto you the graces and perfections of this most perfect piece, but for conclusion I will say, that she may well be set for an example, whereto other women ought to conform themselves, to be acceptable and well thought of in the company they shall come in.  Guaz. 
If I be not much deceived, I know who it is you speak of, and of whom you make this honourable report.  Annib. 
I spoke but of one, and yet if all the women of this City should hear it, I am persuaded every one would think herself to be the woman I meant. But you may as well be deceived in guessing of whom I spoke▪ as I may in reading whom you mean. Therefore let us speak no more of it, but let each of us be content to keep his thought secret.  Guaz. 
With a good will: But for so much as you have set down orders to the conversation of women, and have produced so rare, and so high an example, I am partly in doubt whether it be good for men continually to use this conversation, and therefore I think good you limit in what manner, and to what end we● ought to use it.  Annib. 
With all my heart, for by that means you give me occasion to set convenient bounds to the conversation of women. I say then that there are two sorts of leisure, the one evil, the other honest. I call that evil, which proceedeth of a base mind, and which withdraweth a man from watching, from study, from travel, and from all commendable actions: which is only proper to those, who are good for nothing, who fear the Sun and the rain, and which apply themselves to vain devices, and to the sacrifice and service of Venus and Bacchus.  Guaz. 
A brother of my tailor, which brought me home some apparel this morning, taketh it otherwise▪ for talking with me of his affairs, he told me, that he hath four brothers, whereof three lived by their labour, as he did, but the other would not work a stitch, but goeth loitering up and down all day long, saying, That four knaves may well maintain and keep one honest man: meaning that to work, belongeth to slaves, but to be idle, to honest men. Now judge you how many honest men there are by that reckoning, who are always bu●ied in taking their ease.  Annib. 
Those same may well say, they have received their hire: for seeing they enjoy the pleasure of being idle, they must not look to receive the reward of virtue. But think not yet, that though their bodies be at ease that their minds are at quiet: for they are thereby the more occupied, yea, and eaten as it were with the rust of idleness: and not knowing how to use leisure as they ought to do, they are more grieved with doing nothing, than others with labouring hard. And this idleness is not only the cause of vain and lascivious thoughts, but also of wicked and dishonest deeds. Whereupon Cato used to say, That those which did nothing, learned to do ill. Besides that they are odious to the world, yea, and to God also, who is highly displeased, when a naughty pack or an idle merchant craveth his aid and assistance. * For you know how he cursed the Fig tree which was without fruit. * Wherefore all those which delight to do nothing, aught to know that there is nothing procureth more infamy to a man, than idleness and effeminateness. And if it be unseemly for the ignorant to pass the time idle, much more are they to be blamed who are learned. For it is a common saying, that he is in great fault, which knoweth what is good and doth it not: and that he doth much ill, who knoweth no good. But for that I have neither mind nor leisure to speak of these idle fellows, I will now speak of honest leisure, which belongeth to honest men: and I say that all affairs bring with them pain and travel, by reason whereof it is requisite to take in time and place, for medicine, rest, and recreation, which are so necessary to our life, that without them we cannot long continue. And therefore▪ it is both reasonable and necessary for a man, sometimes to repose himself, and withdraw his mind from weighty and earnest cogitations, by the example of the invincible Hercules, who for recreation sake used sometime too play with his little children. Finally, our life is like to instruments of music, which sometime wresting up the strings, and sometime by losing them, become more melodious. And if we mark well the end of the public and solemn plays, which Princes in old time caused to be set forth, we shall know that they did it not so much to get themselves a good name amongst the people, as to recreate and refresh men after their traveles: that after such shows they might return more willingly, and cheerfully to their work.  Guaz. 
I know by experience, that there is nothing doth more wear me out, nor as they say make the bombast of my sublet so thin as continual affairs. And if I be molested with mine own private matters, you may well think that I am not only molested, but even altogether mortified with my masters business, which to dispatch to my credit, and as duty bindeth me, maketh me (as you may well think) often carry a pensive heart within my breast: Being assured that I had by this time left my skin on the hedge, were it not that otherwhiles I force myself to use some recreation and honest pastime.  Annib. 
Though this leisure be honest, profitable, and necessary, yet there is a certain measure to be kept in it, which we must not exceed: For that nature hath not made us for play and pleasure, but rather to spend our time in the study and execution of grave matters.  Guaz. 
You mean then to ●et before me this leisure, not as meat to feed me, but as a salad to get me a stomach, or else as some confect to close up my stomach: and you allow only so much leisure as is sufficient to recreate a man, and to renew his strength after travel: meaning, that we should play to live, and live to play.  Annib. 
My meaning is even so: for he that should wallow continually in pleasures and delights, remaining always idle without doing any thing, would soon become intemperate and lascivious. Thereof it cometh, that in old time were set down the exercise of wrestling and Music, for the two strongest pillars, to stay up our life by. For as the one maketh a man strong and fierce, so the other maketh him mild and gentle: But both together serve both the body and mind to much purpose. Seeing then that in the conversation with women is chief found this honest leisure, which serveth to comfort, yea, and to take from us the grievous passions which oppress our hearts, we must take heed that we be not so wrapped in it, that we never come out of it, lest thereby we distemper the mind, and effeminate▪ it in such sort, that it lose that courage which is proper to man. And therefore we must use that pleasure and recreation not for ordinary food, but for some extraordinary preservative, or some exquisite restority, remembering that old saying, that we must taste honey but with our finger's end: * yea, we must deal so warily in the matter, that it may be said that we have been in the very jaws of Scylla, & drunk of Circe's cup, and yet have escaped ●●th drowning and trans●ourming *.  Guaz. 
Though this honest leisure (as you say) serve to take away the care of the mind, yet it is so that oft times in discourse (which is caused by this leisure) the mind is void of travel. For a man must whet his wits in such sort, that in steed of taking his ease, he sometime taketh more pain than when he is waightily affaired.  Annib. 
I think there is no honest leisure, but hath some exercise of the mind or of the body joined unto it. For the wise holdeth opinion, that to enjoy leisure well, it is necessary that we employ it in learning somewhat. And therefore you see that though music hath been invented for the pleasure and recreation of the mind, yet it is not learned by chance, but by science, about which a man must travel his mind, like as at Chests or other such games. Contrariwise, it is our use when we have spent a great part of the day either in study or about public or private affairs, to walk either alone, or with company the space of an hour● upon pleasure. And though we exercise the body in going, and the mind in devising, yet all that time is attributed to leisure and recreation: for that it is chief bestowed to the end to withdraw the mind from weighty affairs, and careful thoughts.  Guaz. 
You make me here remember our peasants of the country, who having laboured sore all the week, spend the sunday in dancing out of all cry: in so much that saving your reverence, they stink of sweat, and take more pain that day only, than they do in all the work days beside. And yet according to your opinion it must be called leisure or pastime.  Annib. 
It can not be termed otherwise: for albeit they exercise the body less in working then in dancing, yet they do the one with pain and grief, and the other with so great pleasure, that it maketh them the next day after go to their work a great deal more lustily. And if you mean nothing else, I confess that I myself am in that respect of the nature of those Country fellows, for being wearied with the continual exercise, I use all the day, sometime on foot, sometime on horseback, to see my patients, in the evening, in way of pastime and recreation, I often walk with your brother, or others, almost half a mile out of the town: and in this pain I find great ease and refreshing to my mind that is wearied with the travel of the day. Whereby you understand that all the time which is chief spent for pleasure, ought too go under the name of leisure, though there be in it some exercise either of mind or body. It is very true, that this leisure looseth it name, when it is turned into continual exercise without doing aught else, so that a man cannot properly term leisure or pastime, the exercise of a physician, who all the day long doth nothing but teach some or other to sing, or to play on some instruments. In which respect belike Philip king of Macedon rebuked his son Alexander, for that he was so skilful in Music, not that he misliked music, but because his son was so exquisite in it, that he doubted it was his chief profession, neglecting other things more necessary to his estate: which was not unlike to the doing of the Emperor Domitian, who put from being of his counsel a Noble man, because he danced too artificially. Wherefore we may gather hereby, that we ought not in passing the time to lose the time: but to limit this leisure in such sort, that we take no more of it then is necessary for the recreation of our minds.  Guaz. 
I am of opinion, that amongst many pastimes and pleasures, whereby men's minds are recreated, there is none more to be accounted of, then that which is taken in feasts and banquets: I mean not the sumptuous and solemn ones, but the friendly and familiar, which are set forth by a Poet, for the things most appertaining to the felicity of man's life.  Annib. 
As solemn feasts are full of noise and confusion, so the other are full of quiet and friendship. And as the first by the diversity and delicacy of fare, provoke men to the pleasure and filling of the body, so the other with sobriety, & the good company of only friends together, works the solace and recreation of the mind.  Guaz. 
I can not but often commend that most ciuil● custom of France, where the parents, friends, and neighbours agree together, to bring every one their ordinary provision, assoon into the house of one, assoon of another, where without great cost, and yet with great variety of meat, & diversly dressed, leaving all their pensive thoughts without the door, they sup merrily, lovingly, and friendly together.  Annib. 
That good custom is no doubt greatly to be commended: for if sometimes in travailing by the way, it greatly refresheth us, when at our inn we meet with good company (though strangers unto us) with whom we may talk & be merry at the table, you may soon guess how much more good it doth us, when we are in the company of our kinsfolks and friends.  Guazzo. 
I think that in this kind of conversation also, there are some orders and laws to be prescribed, therefore I look you should make mention thereof.  Annib. 
Many excellent writers have set down many orders to be observed in feasts, but the chief are these, that the feast always aught to begin at the Graces, and end at the Muses: that is, that the number of the guests be not under three, nor above nine: that they be neither too talkative, nor too dumb: that no man take all the talk to himself, a thing very unseemly, for all aught to be partakers aswell of the talk, as they are of the wine. That the discourse be pleasant, and of such matters as men have no leisure to talk of abroad while they are about their business: joining (if it may be) pleasure with profit. That the talk, specially amongst women, be not doubtful, hard▪ & intricate: whereby even amongst men, the hearers are made melancholic by beating their brains to understand it. And thereupon it is said, that a certain Orator being requested at a table to speak of eloquence, answered, Those things which are fit for   

to satisfy a new friend, wherein I greatly commend your wit, and give you most hearty thanks for it, desiring you to enrich my poor understanding, with the treasure of your gentle and learned discourses: that you may have just cause to continue your good opinion of me, & I may be made worthy of the praise you give me, in esteeming me more than all the magnificence of Genes.  Annib. 
If it be so that your virtue receive increase by my discourses, it is so also that my discourses are much bettered by your witty demands: but to return to our matter, we have to entreat this day (according to our yesterdays determination) of the domestical conversation, that is to say, within the house, which we will likewise reduce to those two special points, of speech, and of behaviour: for I must tell you, that I mean not in this days discourse to set down how a man should well govern a house, nor how a master of a house ought to provide for things, appertaining to food, to apparel, to his profits, to his expenses, to buildings, to tilling of his ground, and to the saving of his goods: but I mean to speak of the particular points which they of one household ought to observe in conversation one with an other. And to come to the matter, I say that for the most part the domestical conversation happeneth either between the Husband and the Wife, the Father and the Son, the Brother and the Brother, or the Master and the Servant: and of these four points shall our discourse consist.  Guaz. 
I think this division ought to have been more large: for seeing in families there are the Uncle and the Nephew, the Father in law and the Son in law, the step Mother, and the step Daughter, the Coosins and Allies, me thinks that division is not great enough.  Annib. 
As under the name of Father and Son, I have comprehended Mother and Daughter, under the name of Brothers, Sisters, and of Masters and man, Mistreis' and maid, so I include the Uncle, the Father in Law, and the Tutor, in the name of Father: and the Son in law, the Daughter in law, and the Pupil, in the name of Sons: and the Coosins & Allies, in the name of Brothers: so that in my opinion, the division before made, is not defectuous, neither requireth any addition of things superfluous. And for so much as the chief conversation cometh by mean of marriage, for that Cities cannot be without families, nor families without Husband and Wife, let us enter into the field, and begin with the conversation of the married, seeing the chiefest honour is due unto it, not only for that it is first in order, but also for that there is no conversation more agreeable to nature, then that of the male and female.  Guaz. 
Though our chief purpose be to speak of the conversation between the husband and the wife, yet I think it were not amiss that you should first give some good instructions to him that meaneth to marry.  Annib. 
Your advise liketh me well, and it may be that that speech shall have force to stir up in our hearts a desire to marry.  Guaz. 
I have heard say that there cometh some time upon us by chance a desire or appetite, which you Physicians call disordinate, to which you forbidden meat: if then that appetite of marrying a wife shall chance to come upon me, for my part I mean to satisfy it by no other mean then by abstinence: calling to my remembrance the great commendation a Philosopher gave to those that had a great desire to sail, and yet would never hazard themselves on the sea: to govern common wealths, and yet would never meddle with it: to marry a wife, & yet would never marry any. * Or I think it good to do in that point as one did, who being earnestly solicited by his mother to take a wife, answered her, that it was not yet time: and being a few months after importuned by her in the same matter, he answered that now the time was passed. *  Annib. 
There are some men so dainty and delicate, that they know not what they will themselves, but mislike of every state of life: but you know that a wise and stayed man frameth himself cheerfully many kind of life, and specially forgetteth not this sentence, That it is an execrable thing wilfully to deprive one's self of immortality, which he doth who seeketh not to have wife and children: marry I say not for all that, that it behoveth every man to have a wife by his side, but rather I forbidden it to many persons: for I say unto you, that many occasions offer themselves, whereby the devil, enemy to our quiet, putteth himself between the husband and the wife, and not only maketh the marriage to have unhappy success, but beside, thereby bringeth many houses and families to ruin and decay.  Guaz. 
I would gladly hear what those occasions are.  Annib. 
He that would make narrow search for them, might find enough of them: but I remember three of the chiefest, which are not to be concealed in this discourse. The first is, inequality between the married couple, either in years, or in calling: whereof arise so many quarrels & inconveniences, that I think it most necessary that the parties be equal.  Guaz. 
Touching the difference in years, me thinks it is an unseemly thing, to see a young woman matched with a man that carrieth the countenance rather to be her father than her husband, and I am persuaded, that young dainty damsels go as willingly to such husbands, as they would do to their graves. For they are sure to become widows in their husbands life time: besides that, they which have been so matched know, how troublesome an old husband is to a young wife: yea and which is worst of all, the poor souls are in this hard plight, that what honesty so ever be in them, or what modesty so ever be in their behaviour, yet men will not stick to mutter that they are lewd and light, only by reason of their husbands white beard. And I know not which I may count greater, of the jealousy which is entered into the husband, or of the suspicion which is given by the wife.  Annib. 
Consider I pray you, on the other side, the goodly name which wrinkled and toothless women get in taking to husbands young and beardless boys, and tell me whether the rage of those women be not greater than the hard fortune of the other: but to make short, there can be no agreement between such contrarieties. And as Venus and Saturn are at continual war the one with the other, so the old coupled with the young, never agree together. The like happeneth in marriages which are not equal in calling and condition: for so long as the one shall be nobly minded, and the other basely given, there can be no consent of minds, nor agreement in good will, but continual strife and debate. Now to the former occasion of unhappiness in marriage, I will add the second, which is, when the marriage is made against the will and liking of the parties: whereof I have seen great inconvenience to grow, to the shame, reproach, & to late repentance of the makers of such marriages: but this disliking is for the most part on the woman's side, without whose knowledge the marriages are talked of, and concluded, and the dowry told and paid: yea they are often conveyed to their husbands into strange countries among barbarous people, before they have any inkling of the matter, by means whereof the miserable wretches, fearing the commandment and rigour of their parents, are many times enforced to do against their mind, and to accept with their mouth that which they refuse with their heart.  Guaz. 
In France there happen no such disorders, where the maids as well as the men have free liberty to say yea, or nay, as their fancy serveth them.  Annib. 
But let us come to the third occasion, which perchance is that which importeth more, and which always bringeth forth evil effects, which is, when a man taketh a wife without dowry.  Guaz. 
You have reason: for when these husband's that marry for love only, consider with themselves how their wives have brought nothing unto them, their love beginneth to wax cold, and repenting their folly, they begin to use them not like wives, but like kitchenstuffs: whereas those that marry rich wives, are sure still to have somewhat to be in love withal: you see how now adays fair women without riches find more Lovers than Husbands, and there are few that take wives for God's sake, or as the saying is, For their fair looks: for every man now hath his eyes open, neither care they for flesh that hath neither taste nor savour: yea they have always this saying in their mouth.  

Bring somewhat with thee,  
If that thou mean to live with me.   Annib. 
I see Sir you take the matter wrong, and that you are far wide of my meaning.  Guaz. 
How I pray you?  Annib. 
For that if a man marrying a poor wife, make a drudge of her, a Woman likewise marrying a poor Husband, maketh a slave of him, so that, that cometh all to one reckoning.  Guaz. 
Your meaning is then that a man should take a Wife neither richer nor poorer than himself, but equal in both and that he should not take for dowry that which is more or less.  Annib. 
Yet you understand me not, for that you take for dowry told money.  Guaz. 
Why, you know that by dowry is meant the money and the riches that a woman is possessed withal, & so the great lawmaker Lycurgus understood it, when he made a special law, that maids should bring no dowries to their husbands, and if you take it not so, me thinks (under your correction) you take it too strangely, and too obstinately.  Annib. 
Lycurgus gave that Law to a people composed of the learned, and of the ignorant, by reason whereof it stood● him upon to speak that every man might understand him: but I talk with you, who by the deepness of your understanding, can reach to the knowledge of the dowry which passeth all other dowries, wherewith you are so plentifully endowed, that if you were a Woman, you would greatly enrich your husband.  Guaz. 
I feel myself now pleasantly ridden upon by you: and I see well, that you speak of the dowry of the mind.  Annib. 
The same Lycurgus being asked why he would have men take wives without dowries: answered wisely, that he did it to the intent that none should be rejected in respect of their poverty, nor none chosen in respect of their riches: but for that we live in a time, far different from those times, I think it not amiss to take a mean dowry to help bear the charges incident to marriage, and to maintain himself in that view which belongeth to his calling. But I would not have a man do as two old men of this city did, who treating a marriage between the Son of the one, and the Daughter of the other, have stayed this five years about a matter of a hundredth Crowns before they will conclude it, giving the world plainly to understand, that they set more by the money, then by the affinity. And therefore it were better to keep a mean, and to marry one neither too rich nor too poor, for the over poor, bringeth into her husbands house necessity, and the over rich servility. * And as he is termed most unfortunate, who weddeth a poor wife, so it is a common ●aying, That where entereth in the rich dowry, there goeth out the free liberty. * But returning from whence I began: we must take heed, that in taking a Wife, fond Fancy be not our guide, and that we be not carried away, either with riches, or beauty, without virtue. Women likewise ought to have the same consideration, who are often surprised with an outward appearance, desiring for husbands, those who like Cypress trees are high and fair, but bear no fruit.  Guaz. 
Seing you allow of dowry to support the charge of marriage, I think you will not disallow of the beauty of the wife, for the contentment of the husband.  Annib. 
Albeit she be sufficiently fair, which is furnished with the beauty of the mind: yet I would be loath to have for a companion, for so long a time, one that is deformed, for that our nature abhorreth things foul & monstrous: beside that, an ill favoured face is oft times taken for a token of ill favoured conditions, & it seldom falleth out, that a good mind is lodged in a misshapen body. And if there be any, which having viewed their own deformity in a glass, have by virtue & good qualities supplied the default of nature, though the wise will account them for beautiful & perfectly shaped, yet the vulgar sort will count them but counterfeit. I remember a pretty jest of a Gentleman of great countenance, mary of a very ill countenance, and evil favoured face, who being invited to supper by a Gentleman of his acquaintance, went thither alone somewhat before supper time, but the mistress of the house thinking he had been a servant sent before by his Master, having set her own servants about other business, prayed my Gentleman to clean some wood: which he set himself about very diligently. Now the Gentleman that had invited him, coming in the mean while, asked him what he did. To whom he answered with a merry countenance, that he bore the pain of his deformity: Whereby you see how the evil favouredness of persons diminisheth their dignity. And as I would not willingly have an ill favoured wife, so neither would I have one that were sickly, or not likely to bring forth perfect and goodly children, the which the more fair & well proportioned they are, the more amible they are, the more fit for any enterprise, and the more capable of dignities and promotions: and thereupon the Poet Mantuan promiseth by the mouth of juno, a fair Nymph in marriage to the King of the Winds, whereby he may become the Father of a goodly offspring.  Guaz. 
I think verily those husbands are most unfortunate which are troubled with foul ill favoured wives, if it were but in their dreams only: And I know not which is worse, to have a poor wife, or a foul one.  Annib. 
You shall then know it, when you shall know which is worst, to far ill, or to s●eepe ill.  Guaz. 
It is very true that the evil of a poor wife is in a manner cureless, whereas the inconvenience of a foul wife may be some way redressed.  Annib. 
And which way?  Guaz. 
Marry by providing for himself a pretty wench in his house, and to do as one said, I know not who: 
If that thy wife be foul, and that thy maid be fair,  
To have thy wife let thee suffice, thy maiden never spare.   Annib. 
That saying cometh from a wanton Author, and is rather to be reproved then followed: as there was a Gentleman of this Country, who would in no wise follow it, whose hap was to have a wife of great stature, with a pretty long beard on her chin, and so monstrous a creature every way, that it was doubtful whether she were a woman or a tiger: and to make it short, she was such a one, that he which should deal with her, should rather do penance then commit offence: well, she passing along the street, in the company of some fine dames, certain Gentlemen strangers stayed to view her, laughing and wondering at her: and as her husband by chance passed by, one of them asked him what she was: who poor man shrinking in his neck, said he knew her not.  Guaz. 
He might well say he had more wife than he needed.  Annib. 
Yet he had not more than he loved, for he used her well, and would follow none of that corrupt counsel you alleged but now.  Guaz. 
You tell me of the great goodness of a husband, and of the great happiness of a wife, but I think if he do not loath her, yet at least he doth by her as men do by things they make dear account of, which is, to keep them very carefully, and never to use them but in great necessity: not loving (as the proverb is) to be drunken with their own wine.  Annib. 
Well, how dear so ever she is unto him, he may be sure she shall not be taken from him: but let us fall from the foul to the fair.  Guaz. 
And a man cannot securely keep them, for every one will be catching at them. I remember that a Gentleman sent a Painter to a very fair woman's house, to draw her Picture, but her Husband coming in the mean while, hindered his work, and drove him forth of doors, saying that perhaps the Gentleman which sent him, after he had the Copy, would seek to have the original also, but in comparison between the fair and the foul, I say for my part that it is less grief to be hanged on a fair pair of gallows.  Annib. 
It is yet an ordinary saying, That he that hath a white Horse, and a fair woman, is never without trouble: whereto may be added this saying: Haste thou taken one fair? to thine own care. And you have often heard reported of divers women, whose singular beauty hath brought their husbands to destruction: beside, we must remember how for the most part pride and beauty go together: and that the wife of Herode though she were sober and chaste, yet by knowing the excellency of her own beauty, she became marvelous proud and arrogant.  Guaz. 
The Poet showed that, saying: 
Her beauty is so evenly matched with pride,  
That pleasing others clean she set aside.   Annib. 
Ad hereto that beauty breedeth temptation, temptation dishonour: for it is a matter almost impossible, & seldom seen, that those two great enemies, beauty, and honesty agree together. And hardly may a man assure himself of those things, which almost every man sigheth for, and sueth for: some assaulting them with their proper personages, some with their good wit, some with eloquence in words, some with magnificence in deeds. And though it fall out often that beauty and honesty are joined together, yet it falleth out seldom, but that exquisite beauty is had in suspicion: whereby the renown of the Husband and Wife is but sinisterly judged of. I leave here to speak of the Wars and destructions of divers people and countries, happening only by the peerless beauty of some women: and it shall suffice to conclude, that there is nothing in the world which causeth greater discord and trouble, than a woman when she is desired of divers men.  Guaz. 
If then a man can take neither fair nor foul, with out inconvenience, it is best to meddle with none at all.  Annib. 
Yes you must take one that is neither fair nor foul. It is long since that I learned that the perfection of the body consisteth in the mean, so that it be neither too strong nor too beautiful, neither to weak, nor to deformed: for the one maketh folk audacious & proud, the other low & base minded. And therefore mean beauty is highly commended, and becometh a woman best: Whereas the extremity of fairness or foulness is much misliked, for that the one tormenteth, the other loatheth: briefly, the beauty, gestures, and countenances of a woman, aught to be such, that most men may like of them: for thereby their husbands will be stirred up to love them, and bridled from loving others besides them: but if they be not amiable in other men's eyes, surely their husbands will never make great account of them: for a man careth not to possess that thing, which no man coveteth to have.  Guaz. 
But what think you of those which flourish up themselves by art, saying they do it to please their husbands?  Annib. 
But do you think that it is so?  Guaz. 
I think the gorgeous apparel they put on when they go abroad, is rather to please those which are abroad, than the husband that is at home.  Annib. 
We ought to think also, that those which use artificial means, displease God much, in altering his image, and please men never a whit, in going about to deceive them. I know no man of judgement, but setteth more, by odds, by a natural beauty that showeth but meanly, then by a painted artificial beauty that shineth most gallantly: And I would wish those daubed, pargetted, & vermilion died faces, to consider what scoffs and mocks, men when they are by themselves, give to those bolstered beauties, which are ever accompanied with two false persuasions: the one, that they think themselves made beautiful by the force of those artificial colours: not knowing, as a Poet saith, 
That painting could not Hecube Helen make:  The other, that they think those which look on them, to take that painting for a natural colour: For I knew one once inveigh earnestly against counterfeit women, not perceiving poor fool her own purple died face, whereas some of the coolours stack upon her gorget: but such women would be tried in such sort as a great many were once by an honest Matron: who at a feast making one at a game wherein every one by turns commandeth over all the rest, being come to her turn, she caused a basin with water to be brought, wherewith she forthwith washed her hands & face, commanding all the rest to do as much, whereby a great many of them with grief & shame made the painting run down along their cheeks. I know also a young woman, whose face two months since was like a colliers, and now she jetteth up and down so bewhited, or rather so bepainted, that she seemeth quite another woman: yet when she wrieth her head a little, there appeareth such blackness in her neck and throat, so different from her face, that you would verily think it were a flemings head set upon a moors neck.  Guaz. 
Belike that poor woman knoweth not that the paintings of the face described in the secrets of Alexis, will serve also for the neck and throat.  Annib. 
If such vanities be to be borne withal in women, yet the gross folly of some husbands is by no means to be pardoned, for some seeing the paintings of their wives, allow of it, persuading themselves that it is done to please them, and they on the other side to please their wives, will set the cap awry after the cuttingest manner: some husbands also find much fault with those women that love not to curl up their hear roistingly, but use to comb it down smoothly, swearing by no beggars, that if their wife should use it, they would wind her neck behind her, like a chicken. I know not which of these two sorts are the veriest fools, the one for liking that which is evil, the other for disliking that which is good.  Guaz. 
In truth I cannot think well of such women, and I make account that as their colours are feigned, so also is their heart and affection, so that there is not to be looked for at their hands any pure or faithful good will. It is to be thought that love being naked, loveth none of this counterfeit disguising, whereupon our Gentle Tuscan, to nip those women which are curious in such follies, and to give a singular commendation to madame Laure, termeth her beauty natural.  Annib. 
We will maintain then, that a woman taking away & changing the colour and complexion which God hath given her, taketh unto her that which belongeth to a harlot. And as that which is natural is the work of God, so that which is counterfeit, is the doing of the devil: yet I must say, that this art is not so generally to be condemned, but that it is in some cases to be tolerated: for if it be permitted to a man to seek remedy to take away some wart, mole, spot, or such like disgrace coming by chance: by much more reason ought it to be allowed to a woman, to correct by art any imperfection, either natural or casual, appearing in her face. Wherefore we will allow it lawful for a woman to redress any thing that is amiss about her by art, so that she be necessarily driven thereto, either by some indisposition of her body, or for the conservation of her feminine state: provided it be done so slightly, & so discreetly, that the artificial dealing be not seen, or being seen, that it be not misliked. And for so much as we are agreed that a wife is to be chosen neither to fair nor to foul, it is best we pass farther, and from henceforth endow a Wife with that dowry which may make the marriage firm and sure. first, we are to reprove the abuse of men, who in choosing a Wife, use no other order than they do in buying a Horse, for the buyer will be sure to pry into every part, whether he be sound of wind, and limb, whether he be without crack or flaw, whether he be young, and of good stature, whether he be well paced, and have those outward marks which betoken a good Horse. I deny not, but by the looks of a Woman, a man may gather somewhat of her disposition, but seeing God hath commanded us not to judge by the face, we must use a more certain and commodious way.  Guaz. 
I have always liked of those marriages which are treated of freely, without hiding any thing, which after coming to light, bringeth grief & repentance to one of the parties: but neither men nor women use that order, endeavouring so much as they may, to cover their faults, as well of the body as the mind: by the example of the painter, who being to draw a one eyed Gentleman, would not draw his whole fate, but represented him in such sort that the defectuous part was not perceived.  Annib. 
The Philosopher Crates did not so, who being requested in marriage by a virtuous and honest woman, went before her, and thinking to himself that she was ignorant that he was crooked backed, lame, and poor, he put me of his cloak, and laid it down by his staff and his wallet, and after protested unto her, that his wealth and his beauty was even such as she saw, and that she should consider well of it, that she might not after have cause to repent her bargain: but she for all this, accepted the party, saying that she could not possibly have a husband more rich or beautiful than him.  Guaz. 
Now I pray you go to that point which you promised, whereby husbands may deal surely in the choice of wives.  Annib. 
I will show it you by the authority of Olympias the mother of Alexander, whose saying, worthy to be written in letters of Gold, was: that women are to be married with the ears, before they are with the eyes, for the custom of our country, not permitting men to have free access to the houses where the maids to be married are, not to entertain them with familiar device, as the fashion in France and other places is, we ought at least to deal in such sort, that out of the mouth of divers, constant report may come to our ears of the parentage, and of the life and behaviour of them: but the greediness of the world is so great at this day, that men seek diligently for Asses, Oxen, and Horse, of a good race, but a man careth not though his wife be ill brought up, and worse borne, so that she be rich enough: but he that is wise will above all things have a special regard of the conditions and qualities of his wife, and will note what the life and conversation of her parents is, and hath been, remembering the saying, that the Eagle breedeth not the Pigeon, but that Cat will after kind: And verily it is a very rare matter to see children tread out of the path of their parents and predecessors, yea I am sure you can call to your remembrance families, where are to be seen by succession in the Nephews and children, the roots of covetousness, beastliness, foolishness, drunkenness, or such other faults wherewith their parents before them were spotted, whereby the Proverb is verified, that an ill bird, layeth an ill egg, as on the other side it is seldom seen that a good tree bringeth forth ill fruits.  Guaz. 
I cannot hold with your opinion in this, for daily experience showeth that that rule faileth often (that I may not say is false always) if you search the ancient histories, you will in a manner say that nature doth not her part, for you shall find that many virtuous men have been begotten by vile and foolish fathers: and contrariwise, that many good and wise fathers have gotten foolish and naughty children. And if we may believe things present, do we not see and know many very honest women, who have very dishonest harlots to their daughters? wherefore we may assure ourselves that in marriage, fortune beareth more sway than wisdom: and that it sufficeth without being so curious, to cross one's self, and so to be lead blindfold to this bargain.  Annib. 
The doubt which you have put, no doubt is great, and worthy your wit, but though it cannot be denied, but that good Parents may sometime have children of naughty nature, so that (as you say) my rule holdeth not, yet some say further, that it always falleth out, that a good Father getteth a naughty child, which agreeth with the saying, That the children of Princes and rulers are seldom of such perfection as others, and yet they will not have Nature in the fault, but affirm contrarily, that nature doth not her duty, when a wise Father getteth a sun like to himself: founding their opinion upon certain subtle and Philosophical reasons, which at this time I mean to omit. Now the case being so, it were good for a man that would marry, to be sure that his wife come of ill parents, and it were best for wise men to take heed how they marry, for fear of getting fools to their children: but I take not the matter to be so, & therefore I answer you and those other, That nature always tendeth to the best: so that of good parents, ought naturally to come good children: and if it fall out sometime otherwise, the fault is not to be imputed to nature. For if one look advisedly into the matter, he shall see, that for the most part it happeneth not by the birth, but by the bringing up: That is the cause that many gross heads, by continual study become ready witted: and other who ever in their cradle are found to have a quick wit, in process of time, either through idleness, or gluttony, or some such misgovernment, become slow and dull headed. Now from that consideration, I would have you come to this, that the Father who, through much travail and trouble, both of mind and body, hath gotten wealth and honour, though he getteth children of great wit, yet he is so overgone in fatherly affection towards them, that knowing he hath provided for them sufficient to live by at their ease, he cannot abide to see them travail and labour as he hath done: so that, vanquished with a certain tender affection, he suffereth them to be brought up delicately, and wanton, and is the cause, that by this idleness, their natural force decayeth, and by custom and habit, is changed into another nature. Consider beside, how the children perceiving themselves thus coaxed, and pampered by their parents, keep themselves, so much as they may, out of the dust and the sun: neither care to apply their mind to any commendable thing, or to seek to get more than that living which their parents have left them: not unlike the crow, which liveth only by the food which other Beasts leave. And sure there is no doubt of it, but that if they were meanly left by their parents, they would grow to be wise, and sufficient men. And thereof you see, that for the most part, poor men's children become rich by their own study and industry, and rich wax poor by their negligence & idleness: which is signified unto us, by that pleasant wheel which turneth up this saying: Riches breed pride, pride poverty, poverty humility, humility riches, & riches again pride: We will maintain then for most true, touching generation, that as a man of men, and of beasts a beast, so of the good for the most part, is engendered the good: but the good Father must be admonished that he trust not so much in the goodness of his nature, that he think that only sufficient to keep his children good: but beholding them with an eye rather advised, then pitiful and fatherly, he must seek to better their good nature, in stirring them up to virtuous deeds, assuring themselves that to arrive to the perfection of virtue, it is not enough to be well borne, but also to be well brought up: whereof we will speak by and by in more convenient place. In the mean while in the choice of a wife we shall not do amiss to be well informed of the honesty of the mother, in hope that the daughter will follow her honest nature, and conditions, and that we shall have much less pain to keep her in her goodness, them if by the perverse nature of the mother she were naturally inclined to ill: but it is not enough to know the qualities of the mother, but we must likewise be privy to the conditions of the Father, for that the children participate with the nature of both two: and it often falleth out, that they draw some imperfection from the one of them, which the other is clear void of. And though it be expedient for every man to have a wife that is well borne, yet I would have Gentlemen especially take heed, that they match only with those that come of Gentle blood: for the cavilling of Sophists against gentry, is vain, who having no regard to things common, and known to every man, to wit, that to have a good race, men buy horse and dogs which come of a good kind, of fruits also they make choice of the best sorts, will not likewise consider that to a Gentleman the good birth of his wife is available, for the issue they shall have between them, nor weigh how much it importeth to the children, whether their original be barbarous or otherwise, wherein like ignorant fellows, they show themselves not to know, that in generation there are certain secret instincts of virtue and excellency, communicated by the Parents to the children.  Guaz. 
I now consider that if it be true that education be another nature, it is requisite not only to know whether one's wife be borne of good parents, but also whether she have been orderly and well brought up: which always cometh not to pass, for that there are some who having but one daughter, are so blinded with the extreme love they bear her, that they will not have her hindered of her will in any thing, but suffer her to live in all wanton pleasure & delicasy, which afterwards is the cause of many inconveniences.  Annib. 
You are not a whit deceived: yet for all that the husband must not be discouraged for the too much tenderness of the parents over her: for she being yet but young, with the help of her good nature, he may easily, like a tender twig, make her strait if she begin to grow crooked: and with grave admonitions reform her wanton mind. Thereby we may gather, that it is better to marry a young girl, than a maid of ripe years, who is hardly brought to leave her old ill tricks, if she have taken any.  Guaz. 
Yet there are some of a contrary opinion to yours, who hold it better to take a wife which is of years of discretion, knowing how to order a house, then of these infants newly come out of the ground, whom you must either teach yourself, or else appoint them a governor. And truly if any stranger should come to my house, to whom I would give good entertainment, I should die for very shame, if I should he cumbered with one of those simple sottish creatures, which knoweth neither how to ask a question, nor how to make an answer, nor in discourse to show herself a wise and gallant wench, and if she be not able to perform that, I had rather lock her up, and say she is sick.  Annib. 
You shall never find young woman so savoury every way that may please your taste, but that living with you you will change her manners, and frame her to your own fancy. Touching this point, if we will consider how different the opinions of husbands are, and how diverse the customs of countries are, we shall stay too long about it: for some are so kind hearted, that they wish their wives in any wise to give their friends entertainment being in their house, thinking themselves happy to have wives that know how to behave themselves well in that point: and they are very glad that the world may know there shineth in their house so rare and precious a pearl and iowell: now some on the other side are of this humour, that they think it a dishonour that their wives should be skilful in any thing else but in spinning and sowing: and if any strangers come to their houses, they either run quickly themselves, or send some of their men to give their wives warning to withdraw themselves: which they do, no otherwise then the chicken doth seeing the kite coming. Compare the people of Siennna and of the Romans together, & consider how the Seneses to do the greater honour to strangers in their houses, make their wives present themselves, as the most dear thing they have in the world: contrariwise the Romans enjoin their wives to so strict a life, that they seem to be cloistered Nuns. In this diversity of dealing, I will not give any determinate judgement: for the custom of each country is to be obeyed, which is to be observed as inviolably as a law: neither would I that we should dispute which of the husbands do best, either they which show their wives, or they which shut them up when their friends come to their houses: marry I will say this, that all the honour & all the blame which may arise either way, falleth not upon the wives, but upon the husbands: for that they do no otherwise then they are commanded to do. But returning to the first point, I reply, that a very young wife is easy to be framed to the pleasure of her husband: And though for some time her busbande must be fain to be her master (as you said) to direct her, yet it doth him good to see his precepts readily followed, and he is proud that he hath framed her (as they say) with his own hand, and to his own heart. And I think it be for nothing else that it is counted a double pain to marry a widow, but for that she must be first made to forget the qualities of her first husband, and then made to dance after the pipe of the second.  Guaz. 
Me thinks these second marriages have the taste of Coleworts twice sodden: being so much the more hurtful, if both the parties have been twice married: And thereupon it is reported, that the husband and the wife falling out as they sat at dinner together, the wife in spite of the husband, gave half the meat that was upon the Table to a poor body that stood by, saying, I give it thee for my first husbands sake: now the husband took the other half, and gave it him, saying, I give thee this for my first wives sake: and so they were fain to dine with dry bread.  Annib. 
There is a worse inconvenience than this, for that this second marriage is very prejudicial to the children of the first marriage, which are put to try the stepmothers cruelty, who receiving any blow or injury of their husbands, so soon as their backs are turned, revenge themselves upon their children, and beat them most piteously, that cannot do withal.  Guaz. 
He was prettily even with his stepmother, against his will, who throwing a stone at a dog, hit her: saying, it was not fling altogether in vain.  Annib. 
I will say unto you also, that as it is better for a man to choose a young wife, than one in years, so he ought to marry while he himself is young, and not to stay till his hair wax hoar: for being both young, they are the likelier to have children, and the likelier to live to see the bringing up of them, and in their age to enjoy their service and comfort, what time the children may do as much for their parents, as their parents did before for them.  Guaz. 
If I be not deceived, all this talk is beside the matter: for we have hitherto spent the time in a discourse, which tendeth to no other end, but to teach a man to choose a wife that is young, well borne, well brought up, reasonable rich, indifferent beautiful, of a sound and good constitution, and of a good wit and capacity: but we have not yet spoken a word ●f the manner of conversation between the husband and the wife, as our purpose was to do.  Annib. 
I presuppose that to converse kindly which ones wife, it is necessary first that he be well framed to love her: but for that a man cannot perfectly love that which he thoroughly knoweth not, it is needful first to learn to know (as we have done) the good qualities and conditions of one's wife, and which are the good parts in a woman, whereby men are induced to love them: likewise it is requisite for the father which loveth his daughter, before he marry her, to sift thoroughly the qualities, behaviour, and life of his son in law: for it is a true saying, that he which lighteth upon a good son in law, getteth a good son: and he that meeteth with an ill one, casteth away his daughter: now the husband knowing the goodness of his wife, being to live with her, he must above all things love her most heartily and unfaignedlye: for so the law of God commandeth. That is the strong foundation which surely upholdeth the marriage, and that neglected by the husband, breedeth him great shame and infamy: for not loving that, which he hath with care and diligence gotten, and once judged worthy his love, he manifestly bewrayeth himself to be unconstant and fantastical: and that he were fit to be matched with Megaera, or some other of the furies, then with a loving wife.  Guaz. 
Wherein doth that love chiefly consist?  Annib. 
In this, that he be jealous of her love.  Guaz. 
I think you mistake, for a woman had rather have her husband without love, then with jealousy?  Annib. 
I speak not of that jealousy which maketh the husband doubt of some false measures in his wife, but of that which maketh him afeard to offend any way on his part: which you shall the better understand, if you bethink you of the jealousy, whereby you keep enclosed in your heart the secrets of your prince, fearing continually lest by your fault they should be discovered. In like manner, the husband ought to accompany his love with a continual jealousy & fear, to lose by his own fault the favour and good will of his wife, assuring himself that that is the only preserving remedy against that jealousy which maketh the husband look awry, and which you meant in the beginning. Neither can he any way give his wife a more assured sign of this honest jealousy, then in behaving himself towards her, in such sort as he would she should use herself towards him: which doing, he shall be sure so to find her.  Guaz. 
This is very good counsel.  Annib. 
Be you therefore assured that the greatest part of the faults committed by the wives, take their beginning of the fault of the husbands: who for the most part require of their wives an exact observing of the laws of marriage, but they themselves will make no account of them. For you shall see some of them, who notwithstanding they have received the company and comfort of the woman by God's appointment, yet both in words and deeds they will use that rigour towards them, and usurp such superiority over them, as is commonly used towards slaves: And if abroad they have received any injury, their wives are sure to go to wrack for it when they come home: showing themselves cowards towards others, and goodly men towards their poor wives. By reason whereof, it is no marvel if being overcome with grief and rage, they call the devils to help them, and that at that instant some lascivious mates take occasion to attempt her, and hope to attain her, for that she is then ready to follow, whatsoever wrath and desperation shall put in her head. But on the other side, when the wife knoweth that all the beams of her husbands love, faith, and loyalty, shine upon her only, holding her more dear than all other earthly things, you shall see her consume clean away in burning flames of love, and cast all her care in thinking and doing that which she knoweth will please him. And make your account, that a friend loveth not so well his friend, a brother his brother, or a child his father, as a wife doth her husband: Who not only confirmeth herself to his will, but wholly transformeth herself into him. Whereof there ariseth between them on both sides such assurance of trust, and security of mind, as maketh them live in most contented happiness.  Guaz. 
That assurance of trust and tranquillity of mind, possesseth not the hearts of all husbands: and I am persuaded, that there are very few in the world, which (though they set a good face on the matter) assure themselves of their wives behaviour.  Annib. 
I believe you: but can you tell me whereof cometh that common distrust that men have in their wives?  Guaz. 
Perchance of the fragility and weakness of the flesh, which is attributed to most women.  Annib. 
Nay rather to the weakness of love, which ought to be attributed to most men. For make your count, that at the gate which suspicion cometh in, love goeth out. And if perchance the husband have some occasion given him to mistrust, let him examine his own life well, and he shall find that the occasion came by himself, and that he hath not used her as he ought to have done: And if he shall repent him of it, and begin once to regard her as the one half of himself, and to bear her unfeigned affection, he will begin also to banish suspicion, and to perceive that he which loveth is beloved, and that in mutual love reigneth inviolable faith.  Guaz. 
A certain spirit telleth me, that this your rule is rather praised then practised: For he that would observe it, must let the rain lie too lose on the woman's neck, and refer the care of her and his own honour, only to her small discretion: Which you know is not the custom of our country of Italy, where the women are looked to with most watchful diligence.  Annib. 
A dishonest woman can not be kept in, and an honest ought not. But those who take upon them the keeping of their wives honesty, suppose that the world will judge the better of them for it: For they think that men laugh at those husbands which give their wives the head too much: and they persuade themselves, that if they do not keep them short, they keep them not as they ought to do: beside, they think this with themselves, that the wife seeing the husband to take no care of her, will imagine that he doth not care for her, making belike his reckoning, that no man else will desire her. The other, which abridge not their wives of their liberty, persuade themselves that, that is the way to keep their wives honest, alleging this reason, that the wife seeing the husband make himself master of her honour, is displeased with it, and taketh no more care to keep it: but when her honour is committed to her own keeping, she is careful and jealous of it, as of that which is her own: besides that, we naturally are desirous of things which are forbidden us, and we know that, 
She sinneth less, who hath free power to sin:  And in truth she only is to be counted honest in deed, who having liberty to do amiss, doth it not: but to rid us out of the crooked quirks of these divers opinions, I am of opinion that we must go another way to work.  Guaz. 
Which way I pray you?  Annib. 
Do you not oft times see, two Porters bear up together one burden?  Guaz. 
Yes marry.  Annib. 
The husband and wife, are two bodies, upholding one only mind, and one honour: so that it behoveth either of them, to have care for their part of this common honour: and to bear it up uprightly, there must such an indifference measure be kept, that the one have no greater charge than the other, but that the one leave to the other their just part: taking especial heed, that neither of them draw this way, or that way: for if one shrink back any thing, it is enough to lay the carriage in the mire. I say then, yet once again, that to bear this honour bravely, there is nothing that maketh them better in breath, then to excercise themselves in faithful and fervent love, which once beginning to fail, either on the one side or the other, this honour forthwith falleth to the ground.  Guaz. 
It behoveth you then to divide this charge between the husband and the wife, and that you appoint every one their part.  Annib. 
I will do so. And touching the husband, he must know, that as christ is the head over man, so man is the head over the woman. And therefore if he follow his head in leading a Christian life, in following the steps of our Saviour, and keeping his holy commandments, and chiefly the inviolable bond of holy Matrimony, no doubt but she will follow her head, as the shadow doth the body, and will take his manners and doings for the law of her life, and will never forget them: but if the husband once change his copy and conditions, let him be bold that she will do the like, and follow the steps of Helen, who is said to have been chaste, so long as her husband contented himself with her, and after abandoned herself to others, by his fault. And if he be a man of any understanding, he may soon consider that there is nothing doth more envenom, or enrage the wife, than the dishonest life of her husband: for keeping no faith with her, he must not look that she should keep promise with him: for as the saying is, He that doth not as he ought, must not look to be done to as he would. And I will say unto you, that in the judgement of the wise, the Adulterer deserveth so much the more grievous punishment, by how much he ought to surmount his wife in virtue, and direct her by his example. Moreover, the husband must consider what his authority is, and how far it reacheth over his wife: for some of them keep their Wives in such awe, that they obey them not as their Lord and master, but as a Tyrant, so that converting love into fear, they make the poor women weary of their lives, and desirous of ●eath: after which ill entreating, not without just cause, they verify the Proverb, When their husband goeth about to make earth of them, they go about to make flesh without him: for the husband must not persuade himself that he is above his wife, as the Prince over his Subjects, or the shepherd over his Sheep, but as the mind over the body: which are linked together by a certain natural amity: * but rather must consider, that in the beginning man was not made of the woman, but the woman of the man, & was taken, not out of the head, that she should bear rule over man, nor out of the feet, that she should be trodden down by him, but out of the side, where is the seat of the heart, to the end he should love her heartily, and as his own self. * And as, according to the opinion of the Astrologers, the sun, which is Lord of the stars, goeth not about the Firmament without the company of Mercury: so the husband, being lord of the wife, ought not to excercise the authority he hath over her, without the company of wisdom. The husband also must provide to satisfy the honest desires of his wife, so that neither by necessity, nor superfluity, she be provoked to dishonour: and he must remember, that both ease & disease, make women oft times unchaste. And for so much as many learned authors have set down the behaviour of the husband towards the wife, it shall suffice to say, that to bear uprightly on his side the burden of this common honour, he must account of his wife as his only treasure on earth, and the most precious jewel he hath: and therefore he must take heed, that by his fault, the price of her fall not: he must also remember, that there is nothing more due to the wife, than the faithful, honest, and loving company of the husband: he must also vouchsafe, in sign of love, to communicate unto her his thoughts and counsels: for many have found much profit by following their wives counsel, yea a man is happy that hath a loving wife to impart his good fortune unto: whose hearty rejoicing at it, redoubleth his joy: and if he disclose any ill hap unto her, she lighteneth his grief, either by comforting him lovingly, or by helping to bear a part of it patiently. Now if he chance to spy any fault in his wife, either in words, gesture, or doings, he must reprehend her, not reproachfully or angrily, but as one that is careful of her honour, and what opinion others carry of her: and this must be always done secretly between them two, remembering the saying, That a man must neither chide nor play with his wife in the presence of others: for that the one bewrayeth her imperfections, the other his own folly.  Guaz. 
Surely I cannot like of those which will be still dallying with their wives before others: for they do thereby set other men's teeth on edge, and make their wives less shamefast and modest.  Annib. 
As that is to be misliked, so is not a sour frowning countenance towards her to be liked: for it maketh others pity the hard life she leadeth with him, so much, that they seek the pleasantest remedies for it they possibly can. Therefore I would always have them show themselves to their wives, both in speech and countenance, gentle, and amiable, not making a i●st at that reason which is alleged, Why some women love their lovers better than their husbands: which is, that the Lover in the presence of his Lady, is very curious of his behaviour, that he use no unseemly gestures, but will be sure to frame all his countenances and doings the most amiably that he can possibly: which the Husband doth not, who being daily in her company, careth not what sluttish pranks he playeth before her, which no question maketh her like the worse of him: wherefore he must think that his wife being of delicate nature, when she seethe any such gross incivility in him, she doth not only abhor it, but also beginneth to think with herself, that other men are more discreet and better brought up then he: so that it standeth him upon to be seemly and modest in his doings, lest otherwise he offend the chaste thought of his wife, to whose liking he ought to conform himself, in all honest and reasonable things, and to take heed of every thing which may justly mislike her, whereby he shall purchase to himself that praise, which the men of old time gave to good husbands, esteeming them more than good governors of countries.  Guaz. 
Now let us hear, if it please, you the charge of the wife.  Annib. 
The wife hath two great disavantages in the maintaining of this common honour. The first is, that where God's law commandeth the husband to love his wife, the same law commandeth the wife not only to love her spouse, but besides, to be subject and obedient unto him. And therefore they must be let to understand that the sage matrons heretofore, and namely Sara, called her husband Lord and master.  Guaz. 
Then those have so much the more advantage & good hap, whose husbands are obedient to them, submitting themselves to their commandment.  Annib. 
Term that rather mishap and ill luck, for that such husbands for the most part are fools, dolts, vices, asses, beasts, and are commonly termed wittols, for that they believe so well, that they make conscience to mistrust any ill, though they see another and their wife in bed together, whereof it cometh that their silly wives, like a body without a head, suffer themselves to go astray. And though they be of discretion and good understanding, yet the world maketh no account of them: whereas contrariwise, the wisdom, valour, and authority of the husband, serveth as a buckler to defend the honour of the wife, who thereby also is had in more reputation.  Guaz. 
Yet you see that women are glad to meet with husbands that are gentle natured, and a little foolish, that they may keep them under.  Annib. 
Those which had rather command over fools, then obey the wise, are like to those, who had rather lead a blind man in the way, then follow an other, having his sight perfect, and knoweth the direct way they must take: but such wives need not make boast of their sufficiency: for at this day the race of the Spartan women is worn out, and therefore it is best for them to be content, to let their husbands wear the breeches.  Guaz. 
A man may well give women this good counsel, but there be few of them that will be so good as follow it, and which seek not still for sovereignty over their Husbands.  Annib. 
It is a thing reasonable and agreeable to nature, that the stronger should command over the weaker, * Yet some women have the right art to order things so well, that the husbands should be thought to do amiss, if they should dispose them otherwise: Whereupon Cato was wont to say to the Romans, We command over all the world, and our wives command over us: Neither is there any doubt, but that many Rulers over Cities and countries, are over ruled by their wives: but as those women know how in time and place, to be obedience to their husbands, * so there are some such restive jades, that they will not at any time be commanded, and by their importunities, exclamations, scolding, and brawling, continually withstand their husband's wills, and make a mock at them, playing with them a thousand shrow pranks, which caused a certain King to say, that they were very fools that would follow their wife, running away from them.  Guaz. 
You put me in mind of that husband, who, his wife having drowned herself in a River, went crying along the river side, seeking her against the stream: and being told that there was no question but that she was gone downward with the stream: Alas, saith he, I cannot think it, for as in her life time she used to do every thing against the hair, so now in her death she is surely mounted against the stream.  Annib. 
We will say then, that the wife, as the weaker vessel, must obey the husband. And as men ought to observe and keep the laws and statutes of the country: so women ought to fulfil the commandments of their husbands, by doing whereof they become the mistresses of the house. I could here allege divers virtuous women, who clothing themselves with humility, have caused their husbands to cast of pride, cruelty, and other notable vices: whereof some confess they have pardoned their enemies, and drawn back their hands from doing vengeance, some to have undone unlawful bargains, some to have left swearing, and other vanities, and given themselves to devotion, and the health of their souls, being persuaded and brought thereto by the earnest and honest prayers, and by the good example, and humble Christian life of their wives.  Guaz. 
Now you have spoken of the first disadvantage of the wife: go I pray you to the second.  Annib. 
The second is, that albeit she see her Husband shrink under his burden, and fail in love and loyalty which he oweth her, yet she must not do as he doth, but supply virtuously his default: showing to the world, that for her part, she consenteth not that this common honour should be violated, but making account rather that it is her part to bear all the cross herself: which doing, she shall have double reward of God, and double praise of the world. Whereby you may gather, that this honour is more committed to the diligence and fidelity of the wife, then of the Husband: And though the Husband offend God as much as the Wife, in violating the sacred band of Matrimony, yet the wife ought firmly to print this in her heart, and to remember always, that where the husband by this fault doth, according to the opinion of men, but a little blemish his honour, the wife altogether looseth her good name, and remaineth spotted with such infamy, that she can never recover her honour again, neither by any repentance, nor by amendment of her life: let then a wise woman stop her ears against the enchantments of those which lie in wait for her chastity, and open her eyes to behold this sentence, that 
A woman having lost the name of honest wife,  
No more a woman counted is, nor to remain in life.  And to keep more safely her honesty both in deed and in name, let her avoid, so much as she may, the company of women, that have an ill name: who endeavour by their naughty fashions and dishonest speeches, to bring others to do as they do, and wish with all their hearts, that all women were like themselves: but the wife must know, that to fulfil the law which she is bound to, it is not sufficient to be honest and innocent in deed, if she do not likewise avoid all suspicion of dishonesty. And if she look well into the matter, she shall find small difference (in respect of the world) between being naught, and being thought naught: Wherefore a discreet woman will fly all lightness and vanity, and keep herself (as it were out of the fire) from giving either her husband or any other the least suspicion in the World: knowing that a woman of suspected chastity, liveth in this world but in a miserable case. And when she heareth other women ill spoken of, let her think in her mind, what may be said of her, imagining with herself, that when a woman is once in an ill name, whether, it be deservedly, or without cause, she hath much ado to recover again her honour: she must not bear herself so boldly upon her honest meaning, to think that God will always hold his hand over her head: for he often times suffereth a woman to be reproved wrongfully, for a punishment of her lightness and vanity: by means whereof she hath given occasion of scandal and offence.  Guaz. 
I grant you well, there are women who perceiving themselves loved of their husbands, and having a special care of their honour, keep themselves honest: but I would have you name me but one only woman for a miracle, who with all her honest meaning, showeth not to the World some sign of lightness and vanity: and who is not well apaid to be courted, and to be taken for beautiful: who taketh not a great bravery and felicity, in keeping their amorous suitors long time in suspense between yea and nay, and which thinketh not also by these means to increase her reputation.  Annib. 
It is as common a matter for women to▪ show themselves vain and light, as for Peacocks to spread their tails: wherefore we must not marvel at that which is said by one, When we shall have once taken all vanity from a woman, a man shall be able to take nothing else from her. But wherefore think you women are so glad to be courted and sued unto, meaning not to yield, but to stand to their honesty.  Guaz. 
I think that as I am not content to know myself to be an honest man, but I would have the world to know it, and try it to be so: so women moved by the same ambition, love to be courted and tried, that by their honest answers, they may be known to the world to be honest women.  Annib. 
Those same women be like these cutters, and hackers, who will take the wall of men, and pick quarrels to them, to show what valiant fellows they are, but they make so many frays, that at length they are wounded and maimed, and so are carried to the spittle house: so these poor women, trusting in their clear conscience, come to the amorous encounter with one, & with an other: but at length being driven from their ward, they lie so open that they are soon venued, and so are brought into a place less pitiful, & much worse than the spittle house: and if they do chance to scape unuenued or unhurt, yet they leave the world in doubt of their honesty. But you made no mention how there are some women who love to be served of lovers, and set forth themselves by all the sleights they can, to set their servants and suitors the more on edge, only to spite other women, and to make them see, that they are aswell set by as they: and that by their beauty and good grace, they can win the good will of young men unto them.  Guaz. 
Those women in my mind pull out one of their own eyes, to pull two from other women.  Annib. 
We have spoken of two occasions of their vanity: now we must speak of two coolerable excuses, whereby they use to cover this fault: for some say, that God knoweth how ill they can away with these amorous fools, and how much they abhorred them, but their presumption and insolency is so great, that they will love a woman in spite of her, and that they are so afeard of them, that they dare not look out at their doors or windows, lest they should present themselves unto them.  Guaz. 
They were better never go about to excuse themselves, then do it in such sort: for it is well known that there is no man such an ass, but that continual bobs and repulses will make him soar away: and that if in steed of their smiling countenances, their wanton glances, their yielding gestures, and other lascivious enticing tricks, they would show a grave look, a demure countenance, modest gestures, and behaviour meet for an honest woman, you should see these pigeons soon forsake the dove house.  Annib. 
Others use another excuse and say (as it were under Benedicite) that to withdraw their husbands from the company of other women, and to draw him to his own house, they are fain to suffer themselves to be followed by these amorous companions.  Guaz. 
I may say unto you, that these women take the way to make their husbands do that, which they say they seek to prevent, and like some Physicians, make work where all was well before.  Annib. 
We will here then briefly comprehend the sum of that we have said, and admonish the wife, that chastity joined with vanity, deserveth little, or no commendation at all, but rather lieth open to the saying of King Demetrius, who hearing a married man find salt with one of his concubines, said unto him, My concubine is a great deal more modest, than thy Penelope: so than she must take heed how she giveth men occasion to think sinisterly of her, either by her deeds, looks, words, or apparel.  Guaz. 
For that you make mention of apparel, I cannot but speak of the abuse which is committed now adays in our country, in the ornaments and trimming up of women: who bestow upon garments all the husbands substance, and in guarding and trimming of them, all the dowry which they have brought with them, which maketh me amazed at it: And that which spiteth me most, is to see that the husbands not only consent to such excessive charge, but also like the notable vanity, which their wives show, in the lascivious and strumpet like dressing of their heads, whereby they make men rather laugh at them, then like of them: like as I saw yesterday, after you went from hence, certain women, whereof one had her tresses crossed, in such sort upon her head, that they made the likeness of two hearts bound together: from whence, went two branches of Carnation silk, in manner of two darts: about the hearts between the tresses were knit certain knots of silk and of hair, representing the amorous passion: from the crown of her head hung a certain label, which shaken with every wind, * signifying the lightness and inconstancy of her brain: * on her forehead the hairs made the form of a garland, which was set with pearls and jewels, and natural and artificial flowers, in such variety, that the gardens of Naples are not able to yield more sorts. I rehearse not unto you a thousand other trifles, which dimmed and dazzled mine eyes, in such sort as certain Maps do, wherein are drawn forth in small figures, the squadrons of horse men, the troops of foot men, and the number of the pieces of artillery. Now I pray you, is all this add made by the wives to please their Husbands?  Annib. 
To such a goodly devise, there lacketh but one golden word.  Guaz. 
What I pray you?  Annib. 
Offence to God, hope to the amorous, destruction to the husbands.  Guaz. 
I see not how it is possible for men to maintain their wives in such pompous and masking sort, but that they must let out their money to usury, and use many deceitful ways.  Annib. 
I will not say they keep their wives so brave by cozening, and cutthroat bargains: and that otherwise they live poorly, and far hardly, purging the sin of pride with the abstinence of the mouth, & making their children die with hunger: but though women be very curious in all their attire, yet it is the hair that they make most ado about: and there are no sorts of ointments & sliber sauces, which they will not prove, to make their hair of the bravest colour, in so much, that many going about to alter the colour of their hair by naughty medicines, have wrought their own death: but their folly at this day is so great, that notwithstanding, by means of such trumpery they feel their heads to ache, and their brain to be distempered, yet as murderers of themselves, they will not give over that shameful and deadly practice: but if they knew well, wherein consisteth the commendation and reputation of women, you know well they would not sit up moste part of the night, and rise betime in the morning, to bestow most part of the day in dressing of their head, and they would consider with themselves that those which trim up themselves lest, are trimmed up best.  Guaz. 
I have been always of this mind, that those women, whose minds are not decked with virtue, and goodness, are those which labour above others, to supply that default with the decking out of the body: thinking belike to have as good luck as the Lapwing, who though he be but a vile bird, and liveth most in dirty lakes, yet at the marriage of the Eagle she was honoured above other birds, because of the crown or cop upon her head, and of her pied feathers.  Annib. 
But it happeneth to them often times clean contrary: for the multitude of ornaments covereth that little good which is in them by nature, and the glistering of their jewels, dimmeth the shining of their virtues, especially shining so watrishly and weakly, as they do in such women. But it is ordinarily seen that women, though never so honest, are insatiable of such trifles. Whereupon it is said, that mills and women ever want something. And some have showed that fond desire, not only in their life time, but at their death: As one commanded in her testament, that the jewels she used to wear, should be buried with her. But contrarily, the wife of Trajan wan herself great commendation, by making no account of those toys. And if honest women would advisedly think of the matter, they should perceive that it is not the guilt bridle that maketh the horse the better, and that by reason of those affected follies, they live with suspected honesty: which is showed by the saying of a Poet, who reprehending an honest woman that offended in this folly, compared her with a lewd sister of hers in this sort.  

Your sister seemeth chaste, by wearing chaste attire.  
Although her unchaste life, hath laid her chaste name in the mire.  
A strumpet you to term, a man should do you wrong:  
But sure unto a strumpet, your apparel doth belong.   
* I will tell you moreover, that it is ordained by the civil law, that if a man offer abuse to an honest matron, being attired like a harlot, there is no remedy against him by law. Let women therefore be careful to apparel themselves so modestly, that they may thereby, rather please their husbands, then make them jealous over them, in attiring themselves lightly: for they ought to consider, that men suppose, that there is always a light mind, lodged in a gorgeous body.  Guaz. 
I have noted often those dames which are so curious in their attire, to be very sluttes in their houses: and others which neglect such folly, to be very good housewives.  Annib. 
It is a common saying, that one cannot drink and whistle altogether: and therefore no marvel, if those which spend all the day in tricking up themselves, have no care nor leisure to see their house well ordered: but let us make an end of this matter, concluding, that it may rightly be said of these costly clad carcases, that the feathers are more worth than the bird.  Guaz. 
I think good then, you return to the matter, out of the which I drove you by my digression.  Annib. 
I will make short, and give charge to the wife, not only to avoid that, which may anger and displease her husband, but also to frame herself to do that which may please him: for as that glass is nothing worth, which maketh a sad countenance seem joyful, or a joyful, sad: so the woman is a fool, who seeing her husband merry, pouteth or ●oureth, or seeing him pensive, showeth herself pleasant: And therefore let her be resolved to frame herself to the thoughts of her husband, and to judge things sweet or sour, according to his taste: for the diversity of minds and manners, is nothing fit to maintain love and good will: let her also by sweet words, and loving deeds, show unto him all the signs of affection she can possibly: considering that some husbands having been accustomed to the amorous curtisies of other women, will think the their wives set no great store by them, if they show them not the like, or greater. And in any wise let her continue her accustomed kindness towards him, lest by failing of her wont, she seem to wax cold in good will, or by exceeding her ordinary, she seem to colour some crime, whereby she may drive some foolish toy into his head: which folly, if he chance to be possessed withal, she must labour by all means possible to rid him of it: not doing as some foolish women do, who very undiscreetly, and to their own great hurt, seek to continue that suspicion in their husbands, that others lay siege to their chastity.  Guaz. 
But whether do you think those women do well, who make their husbands privy to it, when they are importuned with any unlawful requests?  Annib. 
Those women are commonly blamed, for that there cometh much harm by it.  Guaz. 
Is it not well done, to show her own fidelity, and bring to her husband security?  Annib. 
I think it ill done: for that thereby she doth not breed quiet, but trouble to her husband, making him doubt, least revealing one love, she conceal another: & which is worst, it breedeth a quarrel between the husband and lover, whereof much mischief may ensue.  Guaz. 
We love others well, but we love ourselves better, and therefore she were better endanger others, than herself: for she hath cause to doubt, lest her husband should come to the knowledge of it by some other mean, and so may think ill of her, for keeping it from him.  Annib. 
A wise woman will always like better that her husband should here by the report of others, of the repulse which she shall give to her lover, them to make boast of her honesty herself: & a wise husband will hold himself therewith the better content, & be the more assured in his mind of his wives honest dealing.  Guaz. 
There be many which take it otherwise, and which give not this interpretation to such concealment.  Annib. 
It is very true: and therefore to avoid this trouble, it behoveth an honest woman to show herself so sober and chaste in countenance, that no man may be so hardy to assail her. For in deed Castles that come to parley, are commonly at the point to render: but if she chance to be set upon, let her make that answer which a virtuous Dame made to her lover in this sort, While I was a maid, I was at the disposition of my parents, but now I am married, I stand at the pleasure of my husband: wherefore you were best speak to him, and know his mind what I shall do. And if her husband be out of the way, let her remember always to behave herself, as if he were present: and to show him at his return, in what profitable work of the house she hath spent her time in his absence, whereby she shall be better liked, and more commended of him.  Guaz. 
A wise husband in deed will take great pleasure in such things: but that some are so testy & froward, that they will never be content with any thing their wives can do, but so take on with them, that they make them wish themselves out of the world: I would have you teach those poor● souls some remedy for that mischief.  Annib. 
I set down the remedy already, when I counseled them to be obedient to their husbands: yet I add beside, that by the example of the Physician she seek to cure the diseases of her husband by contrary medicines. And therefore if he be rough and terrible, she must overcome him by humility, if he chide, she must hold her peace, for the answer of wise women is silence: and she must stay to utter her mind unto him, until he be appeased. If he be obstinate, let not her be overthwart, nor do as she did, to whom her husband brought for their supper two thrushes, but she would needs have it that they were two owsels or black birds: and he replying that they were thrushes, & she holding that they were owsels, he is his chafe, gave her a box on the ●are: & yet for all the, when the thrushes were served to the table, she continued in terming them owsels, by reason whereof, the husband fell to beating her again: A week after, she put him in mind of his owsels again, & continuing in her obstinacy, he was feign to fall to his old remedy. But this matter ended not thus, for at the years end, she hit him in the teeth, how he beat her for two owsels: and he said, it was for two thrushes, but she said he was deceived: but she was well beaten for it again.  Guaz. 
But what do you think of those husbands which will beat their wives?  Annib. 
Marry as I do of Sacrileagers', and Church robbers.  Guaz. 
Yet I remember I have red, I know not where, these verses.  

A woman, an ass, and a walnut tree,  
Bring the more fruit, the more beaten they be.   Annib. 
You red the text well, but not the gloze, which is, 
He God offends, and holy love undoes,  
Which on his wife doth fasten churlish blows.   Guaz. 
Yet it is the opinion of a wise Author, that a man maketh his wife the better by chastising her.  Annib. 
That Author is of no authority in this matter, for he addeth forthwith, that a man by bearing with his wife, maketh himself better.  Guaz. 
Why, may not a man beat his wife upon just occasion?  Annib. 
You say well upon just occasion: for he that shall stay for that occasion, shall never beat his wife: for a man shall never have occasion, whereby he may justly beat his wife.  Guaz. 
Yea but may a man beat her if she commit any fault?  Annib. 
If she commit any fault, through my fault, I am better worthy to be beaten than she, but if she do it by negligence, with what heart can I so much as touch a hair of her head? And if she do it wilfully, why, I ought to rebuke her with words, & seek to reform her by good counsel: I ought to lay before her, the shame of ill doing, & the praise of well doing, and if this will not serve, I ought rather patiently to bear with her, then rigorously to hea● her, I ought to consider, that she is a weak vessel, and that we who are strong, aught to bear the infirmities of the weak, I ought to consider, that she is flesh of my flesh, and that no man hath hated or hindered his own flesh at any time, I ought to consider, that we ought to be comforters one of another: shall I then become a tormentor of her? with what face can I embrace that body, that my hands have bruised and battered? & with what heart can she love the man that can find in his heart to beat her  Guaz. 
Well, I perceive you will be a loving husband, le● us go forward: and tell me, if on the wives part there be any other thing, whereby she may continue love and good will between her husband and her, and maintain untouched that common honour we have spoken of.  Annib. 
A woman cannot possibly do any thing that may make her husband more in love with her, then to play the good housewife in her house: for it not only doth him good to see his wife so thriftily given, but beside, he conceiveth afirme opinion of her honesty, seeing her take pains and exercise her body in works belonging to the house, whereby she getteth a lively natural colour, and that virtuous vermilion, which falleth of neither with sweeting, neither with weeping, nor with blowing, nor with washing: which maketh him deny her no necessary thing belonging to the house, when he seethe her so careful to keep them in good order, which is not the fashion of th●se light housewives, who live without doing any thing, without caring for husband, children, or any thing belonging to the house: showing manifestly, the though the body be in the house, yet the mind is abroad, foundeth to their own shame, & their husbands disprofit: for it is well known, that when the mistress is occupied in vanities, the servants take little care of her profit, but look to their own matters: as the common saying is, While the mistress playeth, the maid strayeth. And as the wife ought busily to look about her, in her house: so it is unseemly for the husband tomeddle with matters within doors: but if his hap be so ill, to have a foolish wife, which sleepeth (as they say) her eyes being open, you know it standeth him upon, to supply the imperfection of his wife; but those men are to be laughed at, who having wise & sufficient wives, will (as they say) set hens abroad, season the pot, dress the meat, teach the chamber maids, & take their wives office from her, such husbands offend their wives much, showing that either they mistrust them, or contemn them: besides; they do wrong to themselves, & show thereby that there is but 〈◊〉 in them▪ for if they were employed abroad in matters of importance, belonging to men of discretion, they would, being come home, be more desirous to take their ease, then to trouble their wife and servants, in meddling with their matters. And they would consider with themselves, that the rule of the house belongeth to the wife, & that God hath made women more fearful than men, to the end they should be more fit for the wary watching & keeping of the house: whereto a careful fear is very requisite. I deny not, but the husband ought to know how matters go in his house; to provide abroad for things accordingly, & now & then to correct some faults, which his wife perchance either will not▪ or cannot: but it is reason that she being, as it were, the stern of the house, the husband should commit the whole government of it unto her, as a thing belonging unto her: for the rest you must know, that as in adversity and trouble, true friends are known, so the Wife cannot by any means more continue the good will between her spouse and her, and bind them, as it were, to her for ever, then by s●icking to him faithfully in his need and adversity, which some of them do not, who will partake gladly with the prosperities and joys of their husbands; but they will not willingly take part of their troubles: forgetting the example of the fair & wise wife of Methridates, who for her husband's sake, causing her head to be polled, and framing herself to ride, and wear armure, like a man, accompanied him valiantly, faithfully, & patiently, in all his troubles & perils, which gave Methridates wonderful comfort in his adversity, & gave the world to understand, that there is nothing so troublesome & grievous, but that the two hearts of the husband and the wife linked together, are able to support it. And therefore when the husbands are afflicted with any infirmity either of mind or body; let the wives be ready, both in word and deed, to comfort and to attend them: whereby they shall see their love and affection will grow more fervent and faithful. For conclusion, the husband and the wife must count all things common between them: having nothing of their own in particular, no not so much as the body itself: and laying aside pride, they must cheerfully set their hands to choose things that are to be done about the house, belonging to their calling, & to strive in well doing one to overcome another: whereof will grow such contented quietness, as will happily prolong their lives to old age: and by the bond of love & concord, they shall give their children an example to live in unity one with an other, and their servants to agree together in the dispatch of their business, and discharge of their duties.  Guaz. 
For so much as you have made mention of children, I should like well that from henceforth, according to our determination, you come to speak of the conversation between the parents & the children: for I think it a matter very expedient, to set down the orders which they ought to observe in conversing together, for the even amongst them, there is not for the most part found that good agreement, and the discrete dealing which ought to be: & that the world is now come to this pass, that the child is no sooner come to any understanding, but that he beginneth to cast in his head of his father's death: as a little child riding behind his father, said simply unto him, Father, when you are dead, I shall ride in the Saddle: yea there are many great knavish children, which wish and work the death of their fathers: whereof I know not well to whom to impute the fault, either to the fathers, which keep not their children in such awe, neither bring them up in such sort as they ought to do, or to the children, who know not how much they are beholding to their fathers.  Annib. 
And which of them in the end rather conclude you to be in the fault?  Guaz. 
Marry the Child, who can not bring an action against his father, though he do him never so great wrong.  Annib. 
Why, said you not but now, that the child often times knoweth not his duty to his father?  Guaz. 
Yes marry did I.  Annib. 
To whom will you give the charge, to make the child know and understand that duty?  Guaz. 
To the Father.  Annib. 
Then revoke your first sentence, and conclude that the fault is in the father, who ought to have informed him in his duty.  Guaz. 
If the father give his son good lessons, & he will not hearken unto them, what can he do more? if the Father offereth instructions with the right hand, & the child receiveth them with the left hand, what fault is the Father in?  Annib. 
If the father in time teach him to use his right hand, he will never grow to be left handed: but it is no marvel, if having suffered him to use that ill custom a long time, he cannot afterwards take it from him: And therefore he ought to accuse his own negligence, for that he hath deferred till evening, to give him ●hose instructions which he should have given him early in the morning at the Sun rising, even together as it were with the milk of the Nurse: not considering that in tender minds, as it were in wax, a man may make what impression he lift.  Guaz. 
I know not, how you can excuse the children, who after the father hath nourished and brought them up carefully, under the charge of learned men and instructed them in the faith of Christ, in the end run astray, and living lewdly, bring forth fruit unworthy their good bringing up.  Annib. 
That happeneth very seldom, & though it do happen, yet for all that the fathers are not discharged of the care over them, which God himself hath enjoined them to.  Guaz. 
I marvel not so much that a child virtuously brought up, sometime falleth out nought, or if thereupon afterwards ariseth discord between his father & him, for the unlikeness of manners may be the cause of it: but I count it strange, & as it were against nature, that both the father & the son, being both honest men, and for their good dealing well spoken of by all men, it shall often fall out, that they cannot agree together in the house, but live in continual strife, and dissension: and agreeing well in public affairs, still disagree about household matters: whereof I could bring you many examples.  Annib. 
You said but erewhile, that the child ought not to commence an action against the father, if you will stand to that sentence, you must needs confess that the son, how honest soever he be, doth not honestly, when he withstandeth his father, and conformeth not himself to his pleasure.  Guaz. 
I avow and make good, that the son ought to suffer the father to command over him, and that he ought to obey him without any resistance: but that their conversation may frame the better, I think it necessary, to appoint to the father, how he ought to proceed in his fatherly jurisdiction, that he exceed not the bonds of reason, and give not his son cause (if not to oppose himself against his pleasure) yet to find fault with him in his heart, & to think himself ill dealt withal by him, by means whereof, he waxeth cold & faint in the love & reverence which he ought to bear to his father.  Annib. 
I can never forget the undoubted saying, the few children are like the father, & that many of them are worse: and the those which are better, are very rare & thin sowed. I would have us first therefore search out the cause, why so few children resemble the father, & answer to the hope he conceiveth of them, whereof ariseth disagreement between them, & by that mean we shall better understand what their conversation ought to be.  Guaz. 
With all my heart.  Annib. 
First it is to be considered, that children bring small or no comfort unto their parents, if nature & fortune be not well tempered in them.  Guaz. 
How so?  Annib. 
As a fruitful grain sowed in a soil unfit for it, bringeth forth no increase, so a child which is naturally given to learning, shall never do well if he be given to warfare, so much it importeth to find out in the beginning, whereto he is most inclined. Touching this matter, I remember I have read certain verses of Dant, which I have now forgotten.  Guaz. 
You shall see I will help you.  Annib. 
I pray you do.  Guaz. 
If that men had more care to follow nature's lore,  
Of able & accomplished men, we should have greater store,  
But contrary, a Priest of him we use to make,  
Who borne is for the war, wherein he chief delight doth take,  
And him we make a King, whom nature hath ordained,  
A Lawyer for to be, and thus is nature's course restrained.  Annib. 
What pleasure I take in these verses, as well for their delightful harmony, as for that they give me to know how good a memory you are endued withal: Here you see expressed one of the occasions of the untoward success of children.  Guaz. 
It behoveth fathers to use discretion in this point, to find out, as soon one way, as soon another, the natural instinct of their children: which is best known in their infancy, as the proverb is, That by the morning it may be gathered, how all the day will prove after. And I think this most necessary respect, to be little respected by some fathers, who force their children to enter into that trade of life▪ which is altogether contrary to their natural inclination, and therefore no marvel though they receive small com●fort of them: for thereof ensueth many times the dishonour of their house, and which is worse, great offence towards God: as when poor girls are put into religious houses, who even from their mother's womb desired to be married.  Annib. 
Those fathers which set their children to things contrary to their disposition, are rather to be pitied then blamed, for that it happeneth commonly for lack of taking heed: but these which thrust them into religious houses, before they are of years to choose or refuse that life, are no doubt greatly to be blamed: for that they bring their children to it, either through fear, or through false persuasions: which is nothing else, but to withstand the will of God, and to take from their children that free choice which he of his divine goodness hath promised them. And therefore if the Father be careful of the honour and quiet of his house, let him be also careful to know whether his sons mind be given either to learning, or to arms, or to husbandry, or to merchandise: And where he shall perceive he hath drawn him out of his right way, let him make him return into it forthwith, and set him again where he would be, otherwise let him assure himself that a thing ill begun, will come to a worse end.  Guaz. 
Seeing we are to search the cause, why children oftentimes fall not out according to the hope and opinion of their parents: you had need begin at the milk which they suck, for that the nurse's milk is of such force, that the use thereof, maketh the child take more after the Nurse, than the Mother which brought him into the world. And when I remember the custom of divers women in France, who bring up their Infants only with the milk of beasts: I think thereof it cometh, * that divers of them are so fierce and cruel, that by their ill life, they show themselves scarce to be endued with that reasonable part which is proper to men: With the good leave of the good be it spoken. *  Annib. 
I am out of all doubt of the marvelous effects of the Milk, and it is a thing most certain, that if a lamb be nourished with the Milk of a Goat, or a Kid with the milk of a yeaw, the Kid will have a very soft hair, and the Lamb a very rough and hairy Wool. And therefore it is to be thought, that as the child, by reason of the Milk, taketh after the complexion of the Nurse, so the disposition of the mind, followeth the complexion of the body: And thereof also it cometh, that the daughters of honest women, prove altogether unlike them, both in body and mind, so that to deliver children from their mothers to Nurses, cannot be said to be other than a corrupting of nature. But if we should make mention of this first nouriture, we should have spoken of it then, when we discoursed of unfortunate Marriages: but I neither spoke of it there, neither will do here, for that the Philosophers, and specially Galen, have spoken so pertinently, and so sufficiently, of the force and virtue of the milk, that we need to make no farther question of it. I forbore also to speak of it, for that women at this day are so curious of their comeliness, or rather of their vanity, that they had rather pervert the nature of their Children, then change the form of their firm, hard, and round paps, whereof it cometh, that the children fashioning themselves to the humours of their Nurses, serve from the love and duty which they own to their mothers, and have not in them the blood which moveth them to obey or respect them any thing, which is manifested by an example of a Bastard, of the house of the Gracchi, who returning from the wars, laden with the spoils of the enemy, had his mother and his Nurse coming before him, he gave to his Mother a Silver ring, and to his Nurse a collar of Gold: which his mother misliking with, he told her she was to blame to do so, saying: You bore me but nine Months in your belly, but my Nurse kept me with her teats the space of two years: That which I hold of you, is my body, which you gave me scarce honestly, but that which I have of her, proceeded of a pure and sincere affection: so soon as I was borne, you deprived me of your company, and banished me your presence, but she graciously received me, vanished as I was, between her arms, and used me so well, that she hath brought me to this you see. These reasons, with o●thers, which I will not rehearse, stopped his mother's mouth, being full ill ashamed, and made his loving Nurse farther in love with him.  Guaz. 
Seeing these women will not be the whole Mothers of their Children, they ought at least to be careful to choose good Nurses, and well complexioned.  Annib. 
As the first abuse crept in, to set out their Children to Nurse: so consequently followed the second not to respect the nature of the Nurse. But let us go forward to show the occasions of the difference between the fathers and the children, holding for certain, that the principal proceedeth (as we have already said) of the difference between the nature of i child, and the seat and trade of life he is set to. And therefore I say, that it is not enough for the Father to know whereto the Child is naturally given, if afterwards he endeavour not to make him the way plain to assist him, and carefully to provide for all things, meet to conduct him safely to the end which he hath proposed to himself. Another cause of this difference between the father and the child, is, when the Father loventh himself better than his child, keeping him with him, to play withal, without taking any keep to set him to masters, which may instruct him in learning, or to the court, or to those professions whereto he shall be most inclined: Wherein many wealthy fathers greatly offend, who bearing themselves bold upon their goods, never take care to bring up their children in learning and virtue, but suffer their wits so to be dulled with idleness, and gluttony, that (as the proverb is) They know not Chaff from Corn, or Chalk from Cheese: and they grow to have as good judgement as the Ass, which judged the Coockoes singing, to be more sweet than the Nightingales.  Guaz. 
The more the Father keepeth his Children about him, the more he maketh their manners like to his.  Annib. 
You are deceived, for the life of the old father, is no pattern for the young son, to shape his doings by: and beside, in time he will accuse his Father, for that having opportunity to send him abroad to get wealth and estimation, he kept him at home, and thereby hindered his preferment.  Guaz. 
The child ought rather to think well of him for it, and to attribute it to too much love.  Annib. 
Nay rather to too little love: for disordinate affection is not to be counted true love.  Guaz. 
The more dear a thing is unto you, the more careful you are to keep it about you, and to join it as it were to your heart.  Annib. 
It is true: but let me ask you, why covet you in keep long a good servant?  Guaz. 
Marry for my profit.  Annib. 
If he were called by some prince, to some higher degree, would you not give him leave to go from you?  Guaz. 
Yes willingly.  Annib. 
Why?  Guaz. 
For his preferment.  Annib. 
You than show him greater sign of good will, in letting him go from you, then in keeping him with you: for that thereby, you prefer his profit before your own: by the same reason, the father keeping his child with him, showeth that he loveth better himself, than his child: for if he loved him as he should do, he would also love his preferment, and would seek to better his estate: liking better that he should die like a horse in battle, then live like a hog in the mire.  Guaz. 
And what would you say, if the father being learned kept his son with him, to make him partaker of his knowledge?  Annib. 
I made no mention of such fathers, for that they are very rare, which are endued with learning sufficient to perform such a matter: And if there be any such, yet they will not, or they cannot take any such pain, nor tie themselves to such a charge, having other business, marry if they would undertake it, there is no doubt but great good would come of it, for that the father would instruct the child more carefully, and the child would receive it more heedfully of his father, then of his master: And it ought to seem no strange precedent neither: For Cato the Censor, taught himself, and brought to great perfection his son, without the help of any governor or master. And Octavian Augustus being Emperor, took no scorn to teach his two adoptive sons. But the iniquity of our time is such, that men would counce it a monstrous thing, to see a father, being a gentle man, to teach his sons.  Guaz. 
The shame is the greater of those, who being neither able, nor willing to teach their children themselves, take no care to put them out to be instructed by others.  Annib. 
A man may see they know not the difference between the learned and the ignorant: and that the ignorant in comparison of the learned, are worse than dead.  Guaz. 
Yet for all that the abuse is such, that the rich men of our time will not have their sons break their heads with study, and in a manner mislike that they should learn to read: for I know many of these, rich in living, but poor in learning, which get them into the shops of Merchants and apothecaries, to the boys and Prentices there, to have them write letters for them to their friends: wherein they bewray at once both their secrets, and their ignorance: O what a goodly sight is that? but I will not forget to tell you, that being not long since in an advocates study, I heard a clerk of his (who had closed up a letter which he had written for a gentleman there present) ask the gentleman the name of him to whom he should direct that letter, that he might put it in the superscription: who answered him, That he need write nothing else but, To my Gossip at Cremone: but the clerk replying that it was necessary to specify his name▪ that the letter might come to the hands of his Gossip, he said it was no matter for his name, it was enough to say (to his Gossip) for that every man knew him.  Annib. 
I believe he was a gentleman, because you name him so, but in this dotishe simplicity, he showed himself as very a clown, as one that I will tell you of, who, as the Physician asked him what country man he was: he answered, that he should see that by his water. These rich folk without learning, or rather bodies without minds, are termed by Diogenes, sheep with golden fleeces: And therefore they ought to be more careful to instruct their children in learning. For as the poor are driven to study by necessity: so the rich are hindered from it by superfluity: and they consider not until it be to late, that learning is more necessary for them, then for the poor, for that they have more dealings in the world, and have need of more wit to keep their riches, which, as brittle, frail, and corruptible, can hardly last, without they be conserved with the sweet syrup of wisdom. And it is, most certain, that a man liveth better with a little, gotten by virtue, than with a grea● deal given by fortune. And those which wax proud through abundance of riches, show themselves not to know what happened to the gourd which made his brags that he was gotten above the pine tree: but those which are wise, the richer they are, the better they will consider how riches are gotten with travail; kept with fear, and lost with grief, and, that he which putteth his trust in them, shall be deceived: for the true riches are those which cannot be los●e, being once gotten. And therefore discreet fathers will be careful to bring up their children in learning, persuading them that they are never rich, until they be learned: remembering always the example of Philip King of Macedon, who so soon as his son Alexander was borne, wrote letters to Aristotle, signifying the joy which he fe●●, not so much for that he had a son, as for that he was borne in his time, to whose instruction and government he had already appointed him: which maketh me upon just ●●casion o● of charity with this our age, which maketh so small account of those men, who, not only instruct us in learning, but in life also, which are the two greatest goods that can be desired in this world. And therefore it is so far of, that they should be despised, that they ought to be reverenced as much as our own fathers. But for that there are many masters excellent in learning, and yet lewd in life, the father must be very wary in the choice of them, lest what his son getteth one way, he looseth another way, for he must have as great care to make him virtuous, as learned, and he must have more care to make him good, then to lean him goods: for as one said. If thy son be wise & honest, thou shalt leave him goods enough: but if he be a fool, thou shalt leave him to much: For fools are not fit to possess riches. Now, if the child be not given to learning, the father must not fail, continually to employ him some other way: for there is nothing more dangerous than an idle young man. And as that tree which blossometh not in spring time, bringeth forth no fruit in harvest▪ so he shall never come to live honestly, when he is a man, who is not virtuously exercised, while he is a child: but amongst other occasiones of the ill success of children, this is one, when the father is careless to make them in time raise themselves from the ground.  Guaz. 
What mean you by that?  Annib. 
That the father being careful of his sons advancement, is many times so curious to see him thoroughly instructed in worldly matters, that, forgetting how the beginning of wisdom, is the fear of god, he taketh no care at all to instruct him in the Christian Faith: whereof it cometh that this unhappy child, trained up altogether in worldly affairs, and deprived of the true light, can not see the right way, but runneth into perdition.  Guaz. 
Now you hit the mark right: for the wisdom of the world is folly with God. And it is a thing impossible for him to live well, who knoweth not God.  Annib. 
To this Christian admonition agreeth that which the divine Philosopher Plato saith, where he 〈…〉 against fathers, which show them solves ignorant what their ought to do, trotting up & down this way and that way, casting all their care to heap up much wealth, & taking so little care for the children who must possess it, that they exercise them neither in the virtue of justice, nor of liberality, whereby they may be able to distribute, ●se, & bestow their goods as they ought to do. Which doing, it may be said, that they provide for things superfluous, and neglect things necessary. Which the Persians knew well, who though they were ignorant of the true worship of God, yet they were careful above all things to have their children instructed in justice and virtue. I would then have parents take care both for the mind, and the body of their children: But for that the mind is more excellent, it is reason to cast our chiefest care upon it. And for that the mind in infants is like a pair of tables, wherein nothing is written, and like & tender twig which may be bowed every way, it is clear, that virtue or vice may easily be planted in it. And for that it is known by proof, that those things are kept best in memory which are learned in youth, fathers ought to instruct their children in the best things, that is, in the fear and love of God: Holding it for a general rule, that he which knoweth every thing, and knoweth not God, knoweth nothing.  Guaz. 
For that the fathers either will not, or cannot be always with their children, to keep them in the right way, they ought to provide masters for them, no less godly than learned, who every day at convenient times may● teach them some devout prayers, and instruct them in the fear of God: not ceasing in their ordinary lectures to mingle always some divine precepts. For imprinting in their tender hearts devotion and religion, it will, while they live, continue them in godliness, and after their death, it will unite them to Christ.  Annib. 
You say very well: And if the father be diligent to instruct his children in the law of God, he shall get this also by it, that his children thereby will do him the more honour and reverence: knowing that it is God's commandment they should do so. To the former occasion of the ill success of children may be added this, when the father setteth before them a stained and spotted glass to look in, that is, when he himself giveth them ill example: Which the Romans were very circumspect in, whose modesty & discretion was so great, that the father would never hath himself in the company of his son: and it was counted a great fault in the father, to suffer himself to be seen naked by his son: no marvel then, though Cato the Censor put Manlius out of the Senate, only for kissing his Wife in the presence of his Daughter, whereby we may see, that it is not enough for the Father to appoint good Masters over his Children, and to see them well instructed, if above all things he be not circumspect to show himself such before them, as he wisheth to have them to be: for the Master doth them not so much good by his good instructions, as the Father doth them harm by his evil Example, for that they are by nature lead rather to follow his steps, than the masters precepts: for it is so natural a thing for the son to resemble the Father in gamening, in swearing, and in other vices, that if by chance some child do not follow his Father in them, but liveth virtuously and honestly, yet the world will scarce believe that he doth so, by reason of the evil opinion they have conceived of the Father, but will rather think that the Child is heir to his vices, as well as to his Lands: And when they can find no fault with him any way, some or other will not stick to hit him in the teeth, that he was the son of the naughtiest man in the world. Likewise, if the Father be honest, and the son lewd, the Father's good name is called in question, and men think it in a manner impossible, that the son should tread awry, unless he were by his Father lead awyre. And thereupon it is thought, that if some Roman Gentlemen used too extreme severity towards their Children, they did it not so much upon the displeasure which they conceived against them, as for the care they had of their own renown, and the desire to maintain their credit and reputation. I would therefore have the Father to frame himself to live well, and orderly, as well for his own sake, as for the honour and benefit of his Children, who seeing the Virtue which shineth in their Father's deeds, feel themselves moved with desire to imitate him, and seeing those of the house which stand quietly and reverently waiting upon him, to be ready at the holding up of his finger to execute his commandments, they thereby take example to do their duty likewise, and not to be inferior in obedience to Servants and Strangers: and beside, endeavour to be like in deeds to their Father, that they may in time to come, receive the like reverence of their Servants, as they see their father doth of his: for the Father which giveth an ill example to the child, in time shall be had in contempt by the Child, and abandoned of him, so that he shall neither receive succour of him in his latter days, nor in his last day, that last duty to close up his eyes: Besides▪ the father by living disorderly and dishonestly, many times make a hand of those goods, which the children should live by.  Guaz. 
That agreeth with this.  

Children many times are made for to weep,  
By reason of the ill rule their fathers did keep.   Annib. 
Yea, there are some cases wherein the silly Infants, which have not offended, are punished for their Father's fault: And thinking to myself, that law to be too rigorous, I asked one day Master Francis Beccio the occasion which moved the Emperor justinian to set down any such severe law: and amongst a great many reasons which he alleged unto me, this was the chief, That the Father naturally fearing the ill of his Children, more than of himself, will the better keep himself from committing such offences, whereof his children shall bear the punishment: whereby we may know, that the ill life of the father, bringeth to the Children both loaf and shame, and that he must not persuade him, that it is enough to give his children good counsel, unless his deeds be agreeable thereto: for the children respect not so much that which the father saith, as that which he doth: like as the Cravish sometime did, Who, his mother telling him that it was very unseemly for him to go arseward; as he die; answered: Do you lead me the way otherwise, and you shall see I will follow you. And therefore he that desireth to amend his Children, must first amend himself, and by the example of piety, charity, justice, & other virtues, make them charitable, just, and virtuous, and when he shall walk upright by himself, he may boldly take up others for halting, like as Dionysius sometime did, who taking his son in a fault, said unto him, Haste thou ever seen me commit the like fault? No (saith his Son) you had no king to your father: whereto he replied, Neither shalt thou have a king to thy son: as it fell out in deed, for in the end, for his cruelty, and Tyranny, he was driven out of his kingdom, and was constrained by necessity to go roving up and down, until he found means to teach children, and keep a school. Let us now pass to the other occasions of the infortunate conversation between the father and the child, whereof there are two, which now come in my mind: the one is, when the father is more than a mother: the other, when he is more than a father.  Guaz. 
How mean you that he should be more than a mother?  Annib. 
When he is so blinded that he seethe not the imperfections of his child, or if he see them, yet is ready to commend them, or to excuse them, in such sort, that if his son be haughty, or harebrained, he termeth him courageous: if he be base minded, he counteth him modest: if a prating boy, he will have him, on God's name, to be an Orator: and in flattering thus himself, he frameth, in his imagination, the best child in the world: with the which blindness, the fathers of one only child are for the most part strooken. I must needs in this place mention unto you, a youth of fyfteene or sixteen years of age, of a ready wit, but otherwise vicious, dissolute, and lewd of life, by the fault of the father and mother, who are so far from correcting him, that they dare not so much as threaten him, nor say any word to him, which may displease him: And I remember, when he was five or six years old, if any told them that they must rebuke him for some fault which he had done, they would excuse him by and by, saying he was not yet of age to know his fault: And being seven or eight years old, they would never beat him, nor threaten him, doubting least through great fear and perturbation of the spirits, his blood should be chafed and inflamed, whereby he might be cast into an ague: No at ten years old, they thought not good to trouble or molest him, alleging that stripes and threats might pull down his courage too much, and take from him his Noble stomach: And though now for his naughty conditions he be hated of the whole Town, yet they leave not to excuse him still, saying, he must first grow, and then after be wise, and that within these few days they will send him to School, where he shall learn wit. I look now, when he shall be of age to be hanged on the Gallows, to hear him before the people to lay the fault on his Father and mother, and justly to curse their foolish love, and shameful cockering and sufferance: attempting, as once one did, to tear their Noase or their ears of with his teeth.  Guaz. 
Thereby it is seen, that a child, though of never so good a wit, yet being ill brought up, proveth too bad: but I looked you would have told, that in the end he had beaten his Father to make him amends: or that he had driven him out of the house, as the Serpent was by the Irchin: for to give a child so great liberty, is to put weapons into his hand, which often times he useth against his parents: but this great cockering and compassion is proper to the mother, who commonly bringeth up her children with more tender affection then discretion. And there are few to be seen at this day, which, by the example of the Spartan women, have the hearts to say to their children in delivering them a Tergate, Come no more in my sight, but either with this returning victorious from the field, or upon this, being brought dead out of the field, but rather go about to withstand the honourable thoughts and enterprises of their children, and would have them both in countenance and conditions, like to women.  Annib. 
It is a hard matter for a mother to be fond of her children, and wise both together.  Guaz. 
But the right love is to beat and correct them, when they shall deserve it, and as the Poet saith, 
The rod doth not make less the mother's love.   Annib. 
If the excess of love be to be blamed in the mother, much more is it to be reproved in the father: whose part it is to examine and correct his children's faults: assuring himself that the only way to spill them, is to be too fond and tender over them.  Guaz. 
But which are those fathers, you call more than fathers?  Annib. 
Those which are too cruel to their children, and beat them continually like slaves, for the least fault in the world.  Guaz. 
Truly those fathers are misliked of all men: for that without discretion they measure their children by themselves, and require at their hands a matter impossible, which is, to have them be old in their youth, not suffering them to enjoy in any sort, that liberty which is allowed to their age: And in my mind, they deserve no other name then of Schoolmasters, for that they cannot manner their children well, unless they have a rod in their hand: for if they were right fathers, they would be content that their children should learn of them, to know that the whole drift of human laws, is nothing else but to refrain from doing ill, & to use to do that which is good and honest, which a child is brought to, rather by love, than by force: but the authority which some ignorant fathers take upon them, is so great, that without respecting age, place, time, degree, fashion, or any thing, they will keep their children under by force, and make them do every thing contrary to their own minds, yea even to wear their apparel after the fashion of the good men of the time past.  Annib. 
It is most certain, that they do amiss in that, whereby they make their children not to love them so heartily, and to obey them rather for fear, than affection: beside, they consider not that the beating without measure, and the keeping them in continual fear, is the cause that a man cannot judge to what manner of life they are naturally inclined. Moreover, it dulleth their wits, and represseth their natural vigour, in such sort, that there is no metal left in them, and by fearing always to fail in their doings, they never but fail in them, and coming in any company, they know neither which way to look, nor what to do. Therefore they ought to leave their butchery beating, and consider rather that for the lack of years their children cannot have perfect understanding and experience in things, whereby they are to be borne withal, when they do amiss.  Guaz. 
I like those fathers well, who can keep their children in awe, only with shaking their head at them, or using some such like sign: and can only with a word correct them, and make them ashamed of their fault. But I am persuaded that there are few fathers, that know how to keep the mean, but that they will either be to rough, or to gentle to their children, whereof as the one driveth them to desperateness, so the other bringeth them to dissoluteness.  Annib. 
We must think that a child hath given vnt● him a father and a mother, to the end that of the wisdom of the one, and the love of the other, that Mean which you mean▪ may be made: and that the severity of the father, may be somewhat mitigated by the lenity of the mother.  Guaz. 
You may in my opinion yet add one occasion more of the disagreement between the father and the child, which is the partial love of the father towards his children.  Annib. 
Do you take that to be a fault?  Guaz. 
Do you think it reasonable, that he should embrace and love one more than an other? and that all being of his flesh and blood, he should cast a merry countenance upon some of them, and a severe look upon other some.  Annib. 
Of the sonnets, & other compositions which you have made, is it well done of you to like some better than other some? yea and perchance those which are worst, best: And be you assured also, that your father loveth not all his children alike, and yet he of you whom he loveth least, cannot justly complain of him.  Guaz. 
I give my father no occasion to use me worse than the rest, and therefore if he should do it, I should have just cause to complain of him while I lived.  Annib. 
You have reason, if he use you ill, marry not though he love you less than he doth some other: for inequality of love is permitted to the father, but not ill usage.  Guaz. 
How mean you that?  Annib. 
A father that is a merchant, hath one son that is a scholar, another a soldier, and an other a merchant: of those three it is a great chance but he will love the merchant best, for that he seethe him like to himself in life and manners: Where in his other sons are to bear with him, for that by nature we are led to like those things, which resemble us most: marry if he shall not give them as good allowance for their diet, apparel, and other necessaries, as he doth to the merchant, they shall have occasion to complain of him as unjust.  Guaz. 
O how hard a thing is it for the father, after that partial passion is once entered into his heart, to minister justice indifferently?  Annib. 
The greater is the wisdom of the father, who preferring the merits of his children before his own partial affection maketh his senses yield to reason, and showeth him in deeds alike towards all: I will not deny, but that the father by his authority, aught to distribute his favours as he seethe good, to one more, to another less, according to the demeanour and doings of his children: for as by gentle usage, he encourageth a child that is well given, to do well, so by hard handling, he may bring one that is untoward, to goodness: yea, if he have any child which is quite past grace, without any hope of recovery, he may lawfully, not only love him less than the rest, but quite cast him out of his favour: like as Aristippus did by a lewd son of his: and being reproved for it by a friend of his, who willed him to consider that his son was a collup of his own flesh, and came from his Loins: he answered, That louse, and a great many superfluities come from a man's body, & yet being ill, they are to be cast away. But those fathers are greatly to be blamed, who with unjust partiality, and without any reasonable consideration, use one child as legitimate, and the other as a Bastard: whereof it followeth, that he which is so coarsely accounted of, doth not only fail in affection towards his father, but beginneth to fall to secret war with his other brother: whereby the father, whose chief office is to establish quiet and concord amongst his children, shall by his undiscrete and unjust partiality, plant amongst them a root of continual discord. * And therefore the Father ought to be well advised, how he preferreth in good will one child before another, and not to do it upon every light occasion: As there are some which will do it, not for any fault which is in them, but for some natural defect: wherein in my judgement they do much amiss, in making their innocent child bear the punishment of their own imperfections, who at the time they did beget him, were no doubt possessed with some infirmity of mind or body. *  Guaz. 
I cannot abide the fo●ly of some fathers, who make some one of their children their darling and minion, without seeing any towardness in him in the world: being not ashamed to let every man know their fond and causeless doting.  Annib. 
The Ape which had two young ones at a litter, whereof she loved the one, and cared nothing for the other, was upon occasion driven to fly from her den, and having taken that which she loved in her arms, and tied the other at her back, in running, she stumbled against somewhat which made her fall, and against the hard ground to kill her young one which she had in her arms and loved so well, but the other which was at her back, had no harm at all: whereby a man may see, that the Father oft times doth penance for his doting and fond offence, for that for the most part those children which are most made of, fall out the worst: Yea, it often falleth out, that the children of the right side, by reason of their wanton and delicate bringing up, prove dolts, fools, and simple sots, whereas contrariwise, those which come in at the back door, being banished from their father's house, and driven to shift for themselves, do often times by their own industry and travail, advance themselves to such estate, that they are in better case than their father and their lawful brothers, to whom oft times they afford aid and secure in their distresses.  Guaz. 
We may boldly say then, that the injustice of the father, breedeth disagreement between his children & him, howsoever that unequal love doth, which I proposed.  Annib. 
Yea hardly, but for that we made mention of a merchant, the father of Doctor●s & scholars, thereupon there cometh in my head an other occasion, which breedeth jars between the father and the child, which is, when the father is inferior in calling to the son: as for example, if the father be an ignorant man, or a plain fellow of the country, & the son be learned, or a brave courtier, you shall find great difficulty to make these two agree together, for the father, according to his nature, and his calling, giveth his mind to base and vile things, & either knoweth not, or, esteemeth not the high degree of his son: And though he speak nothings of it, yet he is ill pleased in his mind, to see his son keep his Gravity convenient for his estate, and to be so sumptuous in his Diet and apparel, and had rather he would convert his gain into Lands, cattle, or some other commodity. There are other some, who are not so foolish, but they know the worthiness of their Children, and what belongeth to their estate, yet for that they are inferior to them, they are grieved in their hearts at it, so that they labour always to withstand both in word & deed their preferment. On the other side, you shall see the son, either for that he seethe his father not to account of him as others do, or for that he seethe him lead a filthy life, being never desirous to come out of the mire, withdraweth his affection from him, and would not by his will have him come at any time into his sight, for that he thinketh he doth dishonour him, and if he be not so wicked to wish his death, yet at least he is well apaid, when he seethe him for some sickness or infirmity laid up in some buy corner of the house.  Guaz. 
To this purpose I heard talk the other day of a wretch, so miserable, that he would never agree that his son, being a Doctor, should keep a man to wait upon him, so that he was fain (when he went abroad) to retain a poor man that dwelled by, to follow him in steed of a man: and one morning staying for his man at the gate, to wait on him to Mass, and being very late, the father bethinking himself of his own miserableness, and seeing how hardly his some was bestead, put on his Cloak, and said unto him, Go your way to mass, and I will follow you: thinking that his son was such a fool to accept his offer, and to show himself abroad in such shameful fort.  Annib. 
I think he offered to wait upon his son, rather for that he would not give his poor neighbour his dinner, then for any shame he had of his own misery, or respect of his sons honesty.  Guaz. 
Now we are fallen upon this Example, I would gladly know of you, in this difference of degree and calling, which ought to go foremost, of the father or the son?  Annib. 
This doubt hath been already decided by Taurus the Philosopher, who being visited by a Roman Precedent, and by the Father of the said Precedent, and being only one chair set, while they were bringing another, he desired the Father to sit him down: who answered, that his son ought to sit first, for that he was Precedent: but for all that, he requested him still to sit down, and that he would afterward show which of the two ought to have the upper hand. The Father being set, and afterwards the son, he gave this sentence: That in public places and affairs, the father being a private person, aught to give place to the son, who is appointed in office, as he who presenteth the majesty of the Prince, or common wealth: but otherwise in private places, and at the assembly and meeting of friends, the public authority must give place to the fatherly jurisdiction,  Guaz. 
By virtue of this sentence, the father to the Doctor of whom we spoke, should that morning, going to mass, have made his son follow him in his long gown, for that as than he was not in any office, but only a Doctor: which would have been a goodly sight, and have made every one laugh at it, albeit it had been but reason.  Annib. 
If this were to be laughed at, the example of Sempronius Gracchus, Consul of Rome, was to be marveled at: who to keep his state in public, meeting on Horseback his Father Q. Fab. Maximus, the Proconsul, commanded his sergeants to go against him, and cause him to alight: which he did quickly, liking the better of his son, for that he knew so well to maintain the majesty of the Roman Empire. But to return to our matter: there is one occasion yet remaining of the disagreement between the Father and the child, which is, when the Father will never suffer his children to come forth of their infancy.  Guaz. 
How understand you that?  Annib. 
Marry when either thorough the authority of old age, or thorough ambition, or covetousness, or too good opinion in his own sufficiency, the father is so desirous of keeping his paternal jurisdiction, that though his children be arrived to man's estate, and be perfectly accomplished every way yet he will allow them neither more living, nor more liberty than they had when they were children.  Guaz. 
I think they have just cause to be mal contents, who knowing themselves to be sufficient men, and to be so taken of every man are nevertheless used by their father like children: and therefore I cannot blame them greatly, if in stead of loving him, they complain of death for delaying the execution of that judgement, which so long before was pronounced against him: To which purpose, I know a gentleman, who hath lived this forty years, under a most rich father, who is so miserable, that he maketh him despair, and to say often to his companions that he is a fool to live so long, and that it is now high time for him to go to another world: adding, that his living will do him no good when it falleth into his hands, for that, by course of nature, he shall be constrained to forego it again.  Annib. 
A certain country fellow used to say, that he got by his labour every day five loaves of bread: and being asked how he distributed them, answered in this sort, One I keep for myself, another I throw away, another I pay home, and the other two I lend forth: being requested to expound his riddle, he said, I take one for myself, I call away another, in giving it to my stepmother, I restore home one to my father, and two I lend to my children. By this example, more noble than rustic, both children ought to learn to be loving and grateful to their father, and fathers to be liberal to their children, remembering, that in their age and necessity, that which they have lent unto their children, shall be restored by their children: whereto the fathers, we but now spoke of, have had no regard: and a man may well say, that they are doting old, that they are become children again, and quite void of judgement.  Guaz. 
If that come by the fault of age, I will not say that such men were well worthy to dwell amongst the Caspians, who when the father is arrived to the age of threescore and ten, kill him presently and give him to beasts to eat: but I will say, that they ought to acknowledge their insufficiency and want of judgement, and to refer the ordering of their house and living to their children, who are of discretion to deal in such weighty matters. If covetousness be the cause of it, they ought to consider that it is a shameful thing in old folk, of all others: for there is nothing more absurd, or without reason, then for a man to make great provision for his journey, when he is almost at his journeys end: so that if they have heaped up their wealth for themselves, why a little of it will serve their turns, but if they have travailed for their children, it is meets they should let them have it, so soon as they are of discretion to know how to use it. If the 〈◊〉 grow of ambition, the poor souls ought to take a pattern, by Princes & rulers, who seeing their children fit to govern the people, gladly resign unto them their estates, realms and empires: whereof we have many examples. If they presume too much of themselves, let them learn to know, that children now adays are borne wise. And as men live not so long in these days, as they did in times past, so they grow to perfection sooner now then they did heretofore.  Annib. 
It is hard for these old folk, to take ●ny profit by these good admonitions, for that their vices by length of time, have taken too deep root in them to be pulled up: yet we will not cease to advise the father (if he render the well doing and advancement of his child) to allow him with discretion some liberty in matters of the house, suffering him sometime to invite, to welcome, and make his companions good cheers to give entertainment to strangers, and as occasion shall serve, to use the goods of the house to serve his turn: but above all things he must both by example & by admonition, keep from entering into his heart, & unsatiable covetousness; which maketh men wicked and unjust, or at least never suffereth them to live in ●est & quiet, & especially the father which is a gentleman, who ought to have in his mind that king, who coming into his sons lodging, and seeing there many pieces of plate, which he before had given him, said unto him, I see well thou hast no princely mind with thee, seeing of so many things which I gave thee, thou hast yet made thee never a friend: so that the father ought to stir up his son to liberal and gentlemanly deeds: marry yet so that now and then (if he be not otherwise affayred) he learn to play the good husband, and see to things about home: whereby he shall be able to conserve and augment his estate, and keep himself from falling into decay: hereof will rise at the least three good effects. The first is the love of the son, who seeing his father withdraw himself by little and little, from the government of the house, to the intent to put him in his room, receiveth thereby wonderful contentment, thinketh himself in his mind much bound unto him, and not only honoureth him, but wisheth him long to live on earth. The second, is the commodity of the son, who by this means after his father's death, shall have no need to seek counsel and aid at his friends and kinsfolks hands, nor to put himself to the discretion of his servants, for the ordering of his house, having by the goodness and foresight of his father, all things long before in his own hands: so that the government of his house, shall not to be strange or troublesome unto him, as it is to many when they have lost their father. The third, is the sweet rest and contentment, which the father enjoyeth in his old years, both for that he feeleth himself rid of all encumbrance & vexation, and beside seethe his son by his example govern his house orderly. For my part I count it the greatest felicity in the world, for a man to have about him a number of goodly children, which are grown to perfection, whom he may well term the light of his eyes * and the staff of his age: * and I marvel nothing, that the most prudent dame Cornelia showed to her neighbour, that asked for her chains & jewels, her learned and virtuous children: and methinks it must needs be a greater comfort to the father, to see a proof of his child, and how discreetly he can dispose of his living, and order his household, then to do it himself: now when the father shall be arrived to the Haven of such happiness, and consolation, methinks he may joyfully look for the last hour of his life, and die most contentedly.  Guaz. 
It is (no question) far better to make place for their children of their own accord, then to stay till they must needs do it, spite of their teeth. Like as Ptolemy did, who gave the Realm of Egypt to his son, saying, that a Realm was nothing so honourable nor acceptable a thing, as to be the father of a King: which thing also above all his other acts increased the immortal glory of Charles the fift.  Annib. 
Albeit in holy Scripture it be written, Give no authority over thee, neither to thy son, neither to a woman, nor to a brother, nor a friend, and, give not away thy living to another while thou art alive, lest thou afterwards repent it: yet there have been in time past, and are at this day, many wise fathers, which depart both with authority and living to their children, and yet incur no inconvenience by it, marry they do it in such sort, that they neither bring themselves into subjection to them, nor into such case, that they are not able to live without them. * For the inheritance belonging by right unto the child, when he shall see the father keep it wholly to himself, he doth not only desire to obtain it, but seeketh to recover it (as it were) as his due. And when he is driven to stay for it until his father be dead, he maketh his account he hath it at death his hand, not at his father's hand, & never thanketh him for it.  Guaz. 
All the occasions which you have hitherto rehearsed, of the disagreement between the father and the children, arise of the fault of the father: now it were well we should see what occasions come by the child's fault.  Annib. 
When the father shall deal in such sort, that on his part none of those occasions we have spoken of be given, I think the child shall have no cause to be at variance with him: and this saying shall have place, that the son for the most part is like unto the father: & this other also, that the daughter commonly followeth the steps of the mother: but for that there are some children which are untoward enough without any fault of the father, I think good that we briefly set down to the child, a form of conversation with his father, so that on his part there may be no occasion of disorder or disagreement given.  Guaz. 
Though by the discourse already made, I have partly learned, how the father ought to behave himself towards the child: yet I would gladly have you briefly gather together the chief points belonging to the father, & after to descend to the duties of the child, as you have now made offer to do.  Annib. 
I will do so: & first I give the father to understand, that there is nothing in this world wherein there ought more care and diligence to be bestowed, then in the nurture and education of children, for thereof proceedeth for the most part, the maintenance or the decay of houses: That he begin betime to furnish their tender minds with the fear and knowledge of God, of justice, and truth, and with virtue, & good conditions, in such sort, that they learn to live as if they were still at the point to die: That he endeavour to keep them in obedience, rather by love, then by fear, and to cause them to do well, rather of their own accord, then by others enforcement, for it is unseemly for one that is free, to live in bondage, neither is fear any good keeper of virtue: That in teaching them, he rather dally with them, then terrify them, for no art or discipline sticketh in the mind firmly, which is driven into it forcibly: That how forward soever they be, yet, that he cease not to encourage and prick them forward, knowing that there is no horse but needeth the spur: That he suffer them not to be idle, but to enure them to labour, whereby they may be able to endure labour, as Milo was able to carry a bull, because he used to carry him a calf: That he enter not into rages with his children, for a good father useth wisdom in stead of anger, and awardeth a small punishment, to a great fault, and yet is not so foolish pitiful altogether to pardon it: knowing that as by sparing the rod he may seem to hate his child, so by wearing it the much, he may abate his courage, and make him dull and desperate: That he provide them of good masters, and governors, continually to attend them, for young children must be propped up like young trees, lest the tempest of vices either break them, or bow them crooked: That he suffer them not in any wise to haunt the company of servants and of the base sort, of whom they will get such corrupt speeches and naughty conditiones, as they will never after forget: That he be careful to mark in their childhood to what kind of life they are naturally inclined, that he may diligently set them to it, for an untoward beginning, hath ever an unlucky ending: That he teach them to govern themselves with the bridle & the spur, that is, with shame in dishonest things, and desire of glory in good things: That without just occasion he use no partiality amongst his children, unless he be willing to set them together by the ears: That in all his doings he show himself grave and modest, and by doing well himself, give his children an example to do the like, remembering how shameful a thing it is, that he should be defiled with vice, of whom others should take example of virtue: That in his old age, when his sons are men grown, through covetousness he withhold not from them reasonable stipends to live by, but deal so with them, that they may think they enjoy their patrimony, no less in his life time, then if he were dead, otherwise in stead of honouring him, they will wish him buried: Finally, that he be so careful over his children, that at his death, he feel not his conscience charged, in having to make account for his negligence in their behalf: persuading himself, that amongst all the abuses of the world (recited by an excellent author in this sort, A wise man without works, an old man without religion, a young man without obedience, a rich man without charity, a woman without honesty, a master without virtue, a Christian contentious, a poor man proud, a King unjust) there is none worse than a negligent father. And therefore being mou●e by nature, pricked in conscience, and bound in honour and honesty to cast a care for his children, let him not in 〈◊〉 wise cast of that care, but follow the example of good Aeneas, His son Ascanius was his only care.  Guaz. 
I pray you now that for your greater ease, you will likewise briefly comprehend the duty of the child.  Annib. 
If the child consider well the great and extreme love of the father towards him, there should need no form of conversation to be prescribed unto him, for that consideration would contain him in his duty, and make him conform himself to the will and pleasure of his father, in all things. I could bring many examples of pitiful fathers, who upon some mishap befallen to their children have showed their excessive love, either by voluntary death, or by some other dolorous effects but let us here only consider the grief of King David, who at the death of his son Absalon, was vanquished of his affections (which in all other accidents he used to master) that shedding tears abundantly by the grief which he felt, he was driven to break out into these complaints: My son Absalon, Absalon my son, who will give me leave to die for thee. Thus sorrowful was he for the death of his son, notwithstanding this his son had before slain his other son Amon, and had done him a thousand outrages, yea & finally conspired against him and his Realm: but for the children have no such regard to this tender love of their parents, as they ought to have, doing as you would have me, I say briefly that they ought to know that the first law of nature, is to honour the father & the mother: & that the Spartans used to do reverence to their elders, to the end that being accustomed to reverence those, whom they had nothing to do withal, they might have their parents in the more honour & reverence. If the paynim observed the law so inviolably, much more ought Christians to keep it, who have received it out of Gods own mouth: who giveth his blessing, & promiseth the reward of long life to those that honour their father & mother, that no child should be so graceless & grateles, amongst infinite other, to forget these three 〈◊〉 received of the father, to wit, his being, his nourishing, and his instructing: for every one of those is sufficient to persuade them, that next unto God, there is nothing more to be honoured then the Father and mother. If the father be churlish and cursed unto them, let the manifold benefits received of him, countervail that cruelty, and continue them in their duty, by the example of the young man●, who, as one cast in his teeth that his Father spoke ill of him, answered, That he would not do it, if he had not cause: Let them take heed of molesting their parents any way, or contending with them, but to overcome them with patience, for they shall be sure never to find surer friend than their father, and they must always carry in their minds, that he which stubbornly striveth with his father, provoketh the wrath of God against him, so that he shall neither pass away his life quietly, nor yet make his end honestly: let them so behave themselves, that their father have no cause to curse them, & wish ill of them, as Oedipus did to his Children, for it is a thing most certain, that God heareth the prayers of the Father against his children: let them not think by any deed or service, to be able to require their Father's goodness towards them, neither fear to be found flatterers, for any praise they can give him or for any kindness they can show him, for when they have done their duty, to the uttermost they can yet shall they not have done all which they should▪ Lastly▪ let them stick to their parents, in all troubles and adversity, assuring themselves, that they which shall abandon their parents, shall be forsaken of God, & that is the greatest offence that may be committed.  Guaz. 
A man may gather by your most godly admonitions, that the wise Solomon was not to be found fault withal, who being demanded why he made no law against murderers of their parents, answered: That he thought no man (how wicked so ever he were) would over commit any such monstrous impiety. Have you any more to say, touching the conversation between the Father and the son?  Annib. 
Nothing else, but that he shall have the same measure made him by his children, as he shall meat to his Father: like as there was a Father, who was driven out of his own house by his son, and was fain to take up his lodging in the spittle house, and seeing his son one day go by the door, prayed him, for charity sake, at least, to send him a pair of sheets to lie in. The son, moved with his Father's request, was no sooner come home, but he commanded one of his sons to carry a pair of sheets to the Hospital to his Grandfather: but the child delivered but one of them, which his Father blaming him for at his return, he answered, I will keep the other for you, when in your old age you shall go to the Hospital, as my Grandfather now doth. Whereby we may learn that our Children will deal with us, as we deal with our parents. And this shall serve to close up our discourse, touching this conversation.  Guaz. 
I shall think your discourse more perfect, if it shall please you to make some particular mention of Daughters: for that the father is to use himself otherwise towards them, then toward his sons.  Annib. 
I fear me, I cannot satisfy you in that point, for that at this day, the manner of bringing them up, is so different, I say not of one country from another, but of one county, yea, and of one City, that a man can set down no certain determinate rule of it: for some fathers will not suffer their Daughters to set their foot forth of doors, not past once or twice in the year, at some solemn feasts: some will allow them, not only to keep company with their friends and kinsfolk at home in the house, but also to visit their friends abroad, and to be present at banquets & meeting of friends: some will have them taught to write and read, and to have skill in Poetry, music, and painting: others will have them learn nothing but to spin with the distaff, and govern the house: do you now think it possible to set down one law which shall be agreeable to all these diversities.  Guaz. 
I remember I have read of a good wise Painter, who having to draw the singular beauties of Helen, assembled together a company of the fairest women he could get, and taking of every one of them that part which was most excellent in them, he reduced all those beauties into the shape of Helen, so I would have you if every one of those fashions by you rehearsed, like you not of itself, by the pencil of your judgement to draw forth those parts out of every of those customs, which like you best, and thereof to compose the form and manners of a perfect virgin.  Annib. 
I had rather you would persuade me to fly, rather than follow the example of the painter, for whereas he drew Helen, I think I should do better to represent Lucrece or Virginia.  Guaz. 
You have taken me at a vantage, but I would have you answer me, according to the simple meaning of my words.  Annib. 
Though I do so, I must not follow the painter, for that his painting tended only to one end, but Fathers do not so in the bringing up of their Daughters: and yet perchance every one of those diversittes is commendable, if it be well understood.  Guaz. 
I see not how those extremities can be commendable: for not to suffer a maid to go abroad but once or twice in the year, and to keep her enclosed like a holy relic, is the way to make her become foolish, fearful, and out of countenance in company, and more easy to be caught in a net: for being not accustomed to see the sun, so soon as she sets her foot forth of the house, her eyes dazzle with the least beams thereof, and down she falleth backward. Now the other, which goeth abroad every day with her mother, and haunteth feasts and banquets, melteth away like wax in the fire: and driving by little and little, the maidenly modesty out of her looks & gestures, there appeareth in her licentious and lascivious behaviour, so that she is taken rather for a mother, than a maid: & if there come no worse of it, the mother ought to assure herself of this at least, that as some folk pressed by poverty and need, bring into the public place the movable goods of their house, and sell them for less than they are worth, so the mother bringing her daughter so oft abroad into public places, maketh her thereby less prised, & worse bestowed, than otherwise she might be. I say nothing of those which are taught in their chambers, to read, to sing, & to make verses, & will never come down into the kitchen, but I will leave that charge to the poor husbands, whose house goeth to decay, & oft times honour too, & all for having so learned a wife: Then if you cast your eyes upon one of those which can do nothing but spin and sow, you shall see in attire, in talk, in behaviour, the very figure of a milkmaid of the country, who will have as good a grace amongst other women, as a Satire would have amongst the Nymphs. Wherefore I should think it good, that out of every one you should take the best part, & make thereof one perfect one, according to your fancy.  Annib. 
I will do it in few words: replying unto you, that all those different manners are commendable, when they tend to a commendable end. It behoveth then, discreet fathers, who are to bestow their daughters, to measure first their degree, and disposition, and then to dispose of them accordingly: And if they think them fit to enter into religion, the mother, who ought to have chief charge of them, must seek to wain them from all worldly vanities, & to enure them to such sincerity of thoughts, and purity of life, that the vow which they shall make above the possibility of nature, and contrary to the liberty allowed to mankind, may not be so broken as it is daily, and that that estate may not be polluted with whoredom and other filthiness, as it hath been by Rhea, that Roman vestal virgin, and divers other Romish votaries, since her time. If they mean to bestow them in Marriage, the father must consider of what calling, and of what country his son in law is like to be, and so to frame his daughter accordingly: As if he purpose to marry her into a country where the wives are enjoined to a strict life, and mewed up by their husbands like hawks, for fear lest they should stoop at some pray which they should not, than it behoveth the father to abridge her of liberty, to keep her within doors, & to accustom her to such a hard & solitary life, that it may not seem strange or grievous unto her, when her husband shall bind her to the like. Contrary, if she be to be married into a more free country, such as Piedmont is, or our Montferrat, the father must somewhat slake the bridle hand, and give her more liberty, that she may be fit for that life which the wives there lead, and not taken for a fool and a clown.  Guaz. 
The father hath not always his son in law in his sleeve, marriages (as they say) are made in heaven, and are guided by destiny: so that the father may be ten years in brewing a matter, which in a moment he may be driven to change.  Annib. 
You have prevented me, I thought to have said as much: And therefore I think that the father being in no certainty for the marriage, aught in this doubt to carry a heavy hand, rather than a light, on the bridle: For it is much more easy to let lose the rains afterward, than to take them up, being once fallen on the neck.  Guaz. 
Seing you are fallen upon this point of restraining of liberty, I cannot be restrained from speaking of the abuse of this City, where a man shall see nothing else all the day long, but women in the streets, which go from house to house, visiting some of courtesy, and other some (who before have visited them) of duty, though without occasion: not by reason of some marriage, or of some friends death, but (as I have heard) if some one have had but a fit of an ague, or have kept her chamber for a few days, all the women in the town run thither of a rank, as it were in procession.  Annib. 
The chances of these visitations in deed are so often, and so many, that they spend six days of the week in them: in so much, that you shall hear some of them complain that they have scarce leisure on the saturday, to wash their head: but I will say thus much, that they are worthy of excuse, yea, and of praise, if they do it of charity, and not of purpose to show themselves in their bravery, and to jet up and down from this place to that, to make report and jests of the faults of other houses: it is most certain that the Gentlewomen of Mantua which are in this city, mocking, or at least marveling at that fashion, yet because they will not seem to be il brought up, they do nothing but run and troth up and down, framing themselves to the usage of our Country women.  Guaz. 
If that custom were to be allowed, it were good also, for the universal benefit, to bring in another custom, that while the wives go gossiping about, the husbands should keep home to sow and spin, and to see to other things about the house, in their absence.  Annib. 
I think good that we let the wives walk abroad at their pleasure, and that we go home to the daughters: whom it is needful to instruct in things meet to get the favour of their Mistress, if the father mean to set them to the court to the service of some Princess, so that it behoveth them to learn to read, to write, to discourse, to sing, to play on Instruments, to dance, and to be able to perform all that which belongeth to a Courtier to do: As that Venetian Lady could, who was commended, for that she knew how to use in steed of wool a book, in steed of a spindle, a pen, in steed of sowing, inditing, things which happen at this day to few women, and yet were common to many in times past: for I am sure, I have seen the role of more than a thousand, who have been excellently seen in Divinity, in Philosophy, in Physic, in Music, in painting, and in all Sciences.  Guaz. 
I saw about the French Queen certain mean Gentlewomen, enter into such credit, only by some one of those good parts by you rehearsed, that they are now come to be married to the chief Gentlemen in France, without any penny given them in dowry by their father: but a private Gentleman hath no need in his house of singing or dancing.  Annib. 
You say well, and therefore if the Father be not like to bestow his daughter 〈◊〉 some man of great calling, he ought to practise her rather in spinning on the wheel, then in playing on instruments.  Guaz. 
And how think you of the daughters not only of Gentlemen, but of Merchants and artificers, which learn to write and read?  Annib. 
Seeing these things are at the least commodious, if they be not altogether necessary, I do not mislike them, so that they be well employed.  Guaz. 
I would think you had reason, if the women of Italy did follow suits in law, and frequented the houses of judges and Advocates, to make them privy to their case, or in Merchandise kept the books of account, as diverse women in France do: but in teaching our women to write and read, we do but give them occasion to turn over the hundred novels of Boccace, and to write amorous and lascivious letters.  Annib. 
We give them also occasion to read the lives of Saints, to keep the accounts of the house, &. to write their minds to their absent husbands, without disclosing their secrets to any Secretary: besides, you may assure yourself, that those women which cannot write, nor make love by Letters, will do it, if they be disposed, by words, yea, and if their tongue should fail them, they would fall to it by signs: but to end this matter, I conclude touching Daughters, that in such diversities as are used at this day in their education, I can give no fit advertisement than this, that the Fathers bestow all their study and industry to bring them up chaste, as well in body as in mind, for a man weigheth it not much to have the flesh unspotted, if the thought be defiled: And therefore it is needful to put into their hearts Godly imaginations, that from their inward purity, there may shine outwardly in their face and countenance, the bright beams of modesty. And for that beauty is a frail and dangerous thing, those which are beautiful have so much the more need of that virtue, to keep their beauty unblemished, for beauty in an unchaste woman, serveth to no more purpose, than a Gold Ring in a Swine's, snout, and to make it short, they must understand that as the Poet saith: 
A woman void of honesty, can make no brags of beauty.   Guaz. 
Before you pass to the conversation between Brothers, I would gladly have you set down the difference which ought to be between sons and Daughters in conversation.  Annib. 
I know not whether in tossing over your books, you have light upon that place where Cicero giveth a nip to his Daughter and his son in Law, both at once.  Guaz. 
I do not know that I have read it, and if I have, I have forgotten it.  Annib. 
His son in law was so delicate of nature, that in his gate he used a slow and mincing pace, like a woman: his Daughter on the other side, ●iryd out lustily like a man, which her Father seeing, said merrily unto her, Daughter, go as your Husband doth: which is to be understood, not only of going, but of all other doings, wherein it is an undecent thing for a woman to resemble a man, or a man a woman. And therefore a Maid ought to frame ●er behaviour in such sort, that above all things she show both inwardly and outwardly, that maydenlye modesty which is proper to maids: for it is a monstrous and naughty thing, to see a young Girl use such liberty and boldness in her Gesture, looks, and talk, as is proper to men: and therefore let maids learn in all their behaviour to express that modesty, which is so seemly for their estate, assuring themselves, that though they be furnished with all other beauties, graces, and virtues of the world, yet if that bright sun shine not in them. all the other as stars borrowing light of that, will make no show at all. And as Goldesmiths sometime cover their ware and jewels with a Glass, to make them show the better, so a maid under the veil of modesty, aught to incloase all her other perfections, to increase the brightness of them, and the more forcibly to draw the eyes and the hearts of others, to have her in admiration. On the other side, it is the worst sight that may be, to see sons, who by their womanly gestures and countenance, make men doubt whether they are males or Females: which maketh me return to say, that the father understandeth it ill, who with too great rigour maketh his son as fearful as a Coney: whereby, coming before his betters, he showeth that he hath no tongue in his mouth, or else he speaketh and answereth so foolishly, that he maketh himself to be laughed at: by reason▪ whereof, he will not willingly come in any company, but hideth himself, and according to the saying of the Poet: 
In thickets he him shrouds, as dear pursued with hounds.   Guaz. 
In my judgement, the French men in that point use great discretion: who in their children's infancy, begin to embolden them before their betters, and to make them talk with them: whereby they come to have a good audacity, and to be resolute in their behaviour: neither are they any more abashed at the presence of the King himself, then of their equals.  Annib. 
That boldness is not too be found in many Italians, for I have known of them many excellent and worthy men, who coming before princes, have been so astonished, and so timorous, that their colour hath changed, the 〈◊〉 hath run down their face, their voice hath trembled, their body hath quivered, and their words have come out so foolishly, that they have plainly showed in what troublesome taking they have been in: And though wise men like well of it, and take it for a token of a good nature, yea, and in respect thereof bear them the greater affection, yet oftentimes such perturbations hinder a man much, and are mocked at, as unmeet for men. And thereof we may gather the great wrong that fathers, mothers, and nurses, do to young children, when they will make it a sport to put their children in fear with tales of Robin good fellow, and such like, whereby they offend God, and make their children fearful and dastardly. It behoveth us therefore to make our children bold, and to use them at the beginning to withstand those things which breed any such fearfulness in them: otherwise the proverb will be verified in them, That the wolf is cruel to the gentle dog: wherefore we ought to make them take example of the fox, who at the first sight of the Lion, was at his wits end for fear, but seeing him again, he began to fear him but a little, and at length came before him very boldly. And therefore we will conclude, that boldness is good in all things, and that nothing is well done, which is doubtfully and fearfully done.  Guaz. 
If it were ever time to set a good face on the matter, and to be audacious, it is no doubt now: for that this great respect and modesty in deeds, is thought fit for men of the Church, then for courtiers: and though it be acceptable to those towards whom it is used, yet (as you say) it is prejudicial to those who shall use it: whereas contrariwise he that is bold in company (so that it be with discretion) is more esteemed, and maketh himself place in all places, so that neither the precepts of Cato, nor the rules of the Philosophers do now days stand us in more steed than you say for.  Annib. 
I will not say that they are to be contemned, but I say that in things pertaining to manners and behaviour (so long as they are not repugnant to honesty) we ought to frame ourselves to the fashions of the countries & times we live in: making such answer to those observers of antiquity, as was made to Politian: who meeting a friend of his going a great pace in the street, stayed him by the lap of his cloak, advising him to go more softly: for that Aristotle saith, A slow pace is a sign of gravity, who staying and looking him in the face, answered, I marvel of you, if Aristotle had had but half the business that I have, he would have run still, and yet he would not have dispatched the third part of them: we will say then to end this matter, that seeing neither men ought to be Sardanapales, nor women amazons, the charge of the father is, to see that in any wise, there be a difference in conversation between the son & the daughter, he in audacity, and she in modesty.  Guaz. 
Now I think it not amiss, that you prescribe to widows a form of conversation.  Annib. 
If we shall bring widows into company, how shall they be widows? yet we will propose unto them, either that conversation of a second husband, or else a solitary life meet for widows, & if we shall say any thing touching this master, let us content ourselves to show that the estate of widows, is of all others most unfortunate: for not only those which live licentiously, but even the wisest & the honestest of them, serve for a mark for ill tongues to shoot at, & it seemeth that the more they cover their face & their eyes with their masks, the more busily men labour to discover in them some fa●●tes. Wherefore if they will exempt themselves from such injuries, they must take heed (the young ones especially) either in talk, countenance, apparel, or behaviour, to give the least suspicion of vanity that may be: and if reasonable occasion enforceth them not, they ought not to come in any company, but to keep them both in name & in deed honest: they ought above all things to banish idleness and ease, and to apply themselves continually to some commendable exercise, remembering this saying, That a widow living in voluptuousness is dead, * and laying before them the example of the renowned widow judith, whom though her great riches, her young years, and her singular beauty, persuaded to marry again: yet she was content to prefer her wyddowhood before wedlock, her woollen garments, before gorgeous apparel, abstinency before gluttony, watching before sleeping, praying before loitering, and armed with these weapons, she cut of the head of Holofe●●es, that is, the devil *.  Guaz. 
I look now that according to the order of your division, you speak of the conversation between brothers.  Annib. 
You will then that I shall expres●● speak of that, which is necessarily insp●yed 〈◊〉 that which I have already spoken for if the father use such eat● in the education of his children, & the children such diligence in following the instructions of the Father as we have advised them to do, it is n●t possible but that the brothers should live in unity & amity, and govern themselves together in one mind and consent, and therefore we have no need to speak much of it.  Guaz. 
If you consider the seldom agreement▪ & the often contentions between brothers, you shall want us matter to speak of, if you want no time to speak in.  Annib. 
As it troubleth the Physician most to find out the cause of the disease, which once being found, he soon findeth a medicine to cure it: so according to our custom we must first have recourse to the occasions which breed this discord amongst brothers, & those once known, we shall qui●ly find a remedy for it.  Guaz. 
It is needful that we seek out the causes of it, for that the effects thereof are so horrible & wonderful▪ For in my fancy, the rage between savage beasts is not so great, as the hate and ●ancour between brothers living in dissension.  Annib. 
For proof of your opinion▪ it is said, that the ●●mity between E●eocles & Policies was so great, that their bodies being burnt together, the flames were ●eene most miraculously to part one from another: showing plainly, that death was not able to take up their controversies, or set an end to their 〈◊〉 hatred.  Guaz. 
I knew in France two brothers, Italians, of great valour and prowess, both men at arms, and in pay with the King: who, upon a very small occasion, fell out in such sort, that they not only left lying together in one lodging, as they had ●ane 〈◊〉 the spare of ten years before, but also talking together, and saluting one another: yea their hatred did fester in their hearts in such sort, that if any upon good will went about to make them friends, assoon dealing with one, assoon with another, he got nothing by it, but their ill will. At that same time, the Count Hercules S●rozze▪ Ambassador of Mantua, kept house at Paris, where to maintain his degree, and of his own bountiful nature, he gave entertainment to gentlemen of all countries, but he was most of all visited by Italian men at arms, of whom, a man should see sometimes at his tay●● to the number of ten: so that he seemed to be thei● Captain. Thither often resorted the one or the other of those brothers, whereupon Easter day approaching, this Earl thought in these days of penitence, he should be able to bring them to confess their fault, to reconcile themselves one to another, and to live brotherly together, and beginning to try the mind of the younger brother, in showing him, that he ought to humble himself to his elder brother, he found his heart so hardened, that he would relent nothing at all. Afterwards he addressed himself to the other, and went about by many pleasant devices to make him understand, that it was his part being elder and discreeter, to supply the default of his brother, which he interpreted so wrongly, that he said to the Count, he understood by the half word, what the whole men●, and that he was content, to forbear his house, to the end that those who were so far in his books, might have free access unto it. To be short all his affaultes were in vain, as if they had been made against an invincible for't: and the best composition which he could bring him to, was that he was content in respect of him, to be friends with his brother, but he would afterwards kill him if he could: which he failed to do, for that within few days after, in that ill mind he was in, he was slain at the battle at S. Quinten.  Annib. 
He thought to show the Count some curtes●e, in deferring the death of his brother so long. And truly it is a desperate cure, to go about to quench the fire of discord, when it is once kindled in the hearts of two Brothers: which maketh me much muse how it should be so, being a thing so far from all reason.  Guaz. 
But I think it rather a reasonable thing, that 〈◊〉 man should find himself most grieved with him, which ought least to grieve him.  Annib. 
And I think it reasonable, that a man should be least offended with him, who ought to be most bold with him.  Guaz. 
Know you not that where is great love, from thence proceedeth great hate?  Annib. 
Know you not, that where is great love, there ought also to be great patience?  Guaz. 
You see yet by experience, effects contrary thereto.  Annib. 
Brother's are in deed oft times at discord, for that they were never at accord: but brothers which from their infancy have lived in love together, will put up any injury or displeasure, rather than they will fall out among themselves.  Guaz. 
You mean then, that the cause why brothers fall out, is for lack of love.  Annib. 
If I should set down that, for that cause, I should be counted as very a fool as he, who being asked, why the dog followed his master, answered, for that his master went before: & you might say that, according to the proverb, I went about to fill your mouth, with an empty spoon: That is, to seem to teach, & not to teach. Wherefore if you will have me come to the right occasions of this discord, I say, I have noted the two chief causes thereof: the one, by the fault of the fathers, the other, by the fault of the brothers. Touching the discord growing by the father's fault, we have spoken sufficiently of it already: For the other, it happeneth when brothers take more care for the parts, then for the whole body. I mean by the body, all the brothers together, & by the parts, each one of them: for that brothers stand us in the like stead as our eyes, hands, & feet do. Yea if we consider the matter thoroughly, we shall find that brothers are framed more fitly for the mutual aid one of another, than the parts of our body are: for one hand, can but help the other hand which is present, and one foot the other foot which is hard by it, but the mutual aid of brothers stretcheth farther: for being far distant one from another, they cease not to secure & assist one another. If then brothers, according to their nature, were cheeflye addicted to the conversation of this body, without casting their only care for their own peculiar part, there is no doubt of their brotherly love, and good agreement together.  Guaz. 
Indeed that naughty passion of bearing ourselves to great affection, will not suffer us to love others as we ought to do, though they be never so near unto us.  Annib. 
It is true: and that is the cause there are so few brothers, which will prefer the common honour and profit of them all, before their own particular advancement, and that we daily see things common, commonly neglected, whereof for the most part, groweth the decay of houses: for by the division of goods, the forces of brothers are weakened, and by the division of hearts, they come sometimes to receive injuries, which every one by himself hath his hands full to repulse. Which that wise King showed manifestly, who by the bundle of rods, gave his children to understand, how invincible their force was, so long as they held together. Wherefore it is requisite, that above all things, brothers lay before them the common honour and profit, and that all of them both in deeds and in counsel, be careful for the conservation of the honour of their house: and let no one of them persuade himself by his sufficiency to supply the defects of the other, and to carry away all the honour and credit from them.  Guaz. 
Soft I pray you, so long as I shall live virtuously & well, do you think my honour any thing impaired, though some of my brothers live ill?  Annib. 
Your particular honour shall be nothing diminished, but the common honour of your house shall, wherein you have part.  Guaz. 
And why? shall not my commendable behaviour, countervail their lewd demeanour?  Annib. 
Howsoever it countervail it, it cannot wipe away the dishonour, which your house sustaineth by it: which receiveth as much shame by their ill doing, as honour by your well doing. And therefore they are greatly to blame, which take not as great care of their Brothers as of themselves: for the brothers being, as we have said, members of one body, any one of them cannot be stained, but the whole body will be spotted: and thereupon it is said, That the nose cannot be cut without bloodying the mouth. This nearness which ought to be between brothers, is likewise implied in the name of brother, which in latin signifieth as it were another, to give us to understand, that a brother to a brother is as another himself: whereof I cannot at this time bring a more plain example then of a work, or book, whereof there are printed in one press divers volumes, which may perhaps differ in the covering and outward trimming, and yet are but one thing, having one self beginning and ending: so that the faults which are in one of these volumes, are common to them all, whereof I infer, that the fault which is in one brother, is common to all the rest. Wherefore for the honour of their house, brothers ought to support one another, and when the one falleth, the other ought to help him up again, or else to confess that he himself is fallen to the ground: beside, it is an unseemly thing for a man, to see himself raised to high degree, and looking towards the ground, to behold his brother in low estate. And a man may be bold to say, that he which hath no care of his brother's honour, hath no care of his own. Of this common honour, Scipio Africanus was very careful, who having subdued Spain, vanquished Annibal, & conquered afric, thought he had done nothing, if he might not see likewise the honour and renown of his brother to increase: whereof he was so jealous, that he not only procured that he was chosen by the people of Rome for the exploit of Asia, but spoiling himself of his own authority, he was content to follow his brother as a man at arms, & as a private Soldier, & honouring him openly as Captain general, and counseling him secretly as a brother, he wrought so with him, that pricked forward with the honour his brother did him, furthered by the advise he gave him, & encouraged by the example he before had shown him, he won to himself the name of Asiatic, to his immortal glory, & to the people of Rome's singular benefit.  Guaz. 
That Asiatic might well say of African.  
My father he was in honour, my son in love, my brother in years.  
And truly this was notable love, & worthy eternal memory, to the shame of those who are so far from procuring the honour and advancement of their brothers, that they rejoice at their misery and misfortune.  Annib. 
I could rehearse unto you many examples of such brothers, who through malice & discord have been so lead awry, the seeking continually to disgrace one another, they have shamed themselves both: making some to laugh at them, & some to pity them. But it is a thing worthy commendation, and admiration, to see concord and amity surely established amongst brothers: so that none of them go about any thing for their own private commodity, but by the consent of the rest, for the common honour and advancement of their house: and so long as the bond of brotherhood is kuit in such sort, it may well be said that the sword which undid Gordians knot, shall not be able to undo it. To be short, there is nothing which so much maintaineth the honour of houses, as the agreement amongst brothers: & here I must say, that those houses are far more happy and fortunate where there are many brothers agreeing well together, then where there is but one only: for as no man hath the force of Atlas to bear up heaven with his shoulders, so there is no burden so heavy, which being sustained by many, becometh not light: beside, the natures, degrees, & professions of brothers, being diverse, & all of them referring all their care to the advancement of their house, they will, like workmen about a building, diligently apply themselves to it, the one by learning, the other by arms, some by temporal or spiritual promotions, some by some profitable trade of life, or by some other mean: all which things cannot be in one man alone.  Guaz. 
Now you have showed how necessary concord is amongst brothers, I would gladly have you set down some order of conversation, whereby they may keep and maintain themselves in concord.  Annib. 
The form of their conversation dependeth first, of the prudency and authority of the Father, who ought to labour to knit them fast in good will together, & to admonish them to honour and aid one another, when afterwards they shall come to years of discretion, it is their parts so long as they shall live in common, to beware of appropriating to themselves any thing particularly: for that besides the offence to Godward, the cracking of their credit, there is nothing that maketh their brothers so soon to fall out with them, as that doth: Moreover, it is their parts to observe the order of nature, so that the younger (if inequality in degree be not let) do honour to his elder brother: A custom introduced by the Romans amongst friends, much more ought it to take place amongst brothers, but for all that, the elder brother is not quite discharged, for it is his part to recompense the humility of his younger Brother, with such good will & liberality, that he may have the better will to do him honour. It belongeth also to the elder Brother, to have more discretion with him, and to bear with his younger Brother, when he shall chance to fail in his duty toward him, letting him to understand his fault in a gentle sort, & at convenient time: so that his admonition may not be ill taken, but be thought to proceed of good will, whereby his Brother shall bear him the greater affection: but above all other things, I think it needful for the maintenance of concord between brothers living together, that they be not over bold one with another, either in words or deeds: which oft times breedeth debate amongst them, but to use such modest respect in their doings, that they give no occasion of mislike any way.  Guaz. 
Of the one side, this advertisement liketh me well, for that over broad speech, and too homely dealing without any respect, make sometimes so deep a wound, that the smart of it being intolerable, they seek the revenge of it with their tongues, yea and sometimes with their hands: but on the other side I consider, that in using this respect which you spoke of, the brothers will not dare to use these reprehensions and admonitions amongst themselves, which you have proposed, for fear of offending one another: whereof shall follow rightly that which the Poet saith: 
He doth not well, who doth contend,  
Nor he who dares not reprehend.   Annib. 
I am not of your mind, but in my judgement, it falleth out clean contrary: for the reprehension which cometh from a foul mouthed person, hath no such great force, and is imputed rather to his naughty nature, then to any desire he hath to amend his Brother: but the admonition which cometh from a discreet man, is well taken, & the party which receiveth it, persuadeth himself it is upon great cause, and of great good will that the other (being so wise & so honest) useth it. But you must not think that in making mention of a modest respect to be used, I meant a distrustful fearfulness, which maketh us we dare not freely utter the truth, as it is the fashion towards Princes, Magistrates, and other our Superiors: for that fear would quite quench out the fire of love which is requisite amongst right brothers: but I meant that grave and discreet manner, whereby we do honour to others, and cause others to do honour to us: which letteth us not to reprehend our friend, much less our brother.  Guaz. 
Yet I am of opinion, there are some brothers which forbear to do it, for fear to offend one another, in the same respect that servants are afeard to speak to their masters.  Annib. 
Say rather, that want of good will keepeth them from doing it: whereof it cometh, that one brother seeketh not to amend the other, but taketh pleasure to backbite one another.  Guaz. 
Our reverend brother Bernardin Maccia, reader of the Institutes, used to make mention thereof: recounting that he knew two brothers, the one a student, the other a courtier, who though they were counted honest men, yet because they were too talkative, the preciser sort could not away which their company, and as it was his chance one day to go visit the student who was not well at ease, entering into the house, he met the other brother coming forth, whom he asked how the sick man did? who answered, reasonable well, but go I pray you & see him, I warrant you he will weighed you with his babbling. Being entered the Chamber, after many words of comfort to the sick party, he said unto him, I you not how your brother doth, for I saw him but now very merry as I came in hither: whereto the sick man answered, Men having the world at will, as he hath, are never but merry, and if you stayed long with him, I believe he hath made you almost deaf with prattling.  Annib. 
In truth if brothers would agree to tell one another of their faults privily, they should avoid the mocks & scoffs of others openly: And for that it seemeth to me we have spoken enough of this matter, we will conclude, that as one hand washeth another, and both of them the face, so one brother ought to support another, and all of them to procure the honour of their house: for the maintenance whereof, there is required amongst them a concord, composed of love, discretion, honourable respect, and friendly reprehension.  Guaz. 
We are at point, as far as I see, to make an end of this days discourse, seeing we have no more to speak of, but of the conversation between the master & the servant: yet I am afeard lest it be grievous unto you to spend the time here to your loss, which in other places you might bestow to your gain.  Annib. 
I frequent other places to pleasure others, & there in deed I spend the time: but I am with you for mine own pleasure, and therefore here I get the time: wherefore let us go forward cheerfully, for if my servant be no more grieved to attend me without, than I am to be here within, it is not possible to find a master & servant better content than we are,  Guaz. 
I will answer for your man, that he is content where he is at this present: for he is with our servants, where they pass the time together in three things, which they take singular pleasure in.  Annib. 
Which be those?  Guaz. 
In drinking, playing, and speaking ill.  Annib. 
Those things cannot be done, but to the disprofit and dispraise of the masters.  Guaz. 
Though they should want those three, yet I dare warrant you, your man is content, in that he is out of your sight.  Annib. 
I believe it without an oath: but whereof think you proceedeth that discontentment of servants?  Guaz. 
Of the lack of love, for if they loved their master, they would love his presence, & would come to be continually in his sight.  Annib. 
And whereof may we think that lack of love in servants proceedeth?  Guaz. 
Perchance of the difference of life, of minds, and of manners▪ which is between them: what say you of it?  Annib. 
I am of that opinion likewise, but the very servitude itself may also be a cause of this lack of love (that I may not say hatred) of the servants towards the masters, for that men serve commonly rather of necessity, then of free will: for so much as a man knowing himself to be borne free, when he putteth himself in service; he forceth his nature, & though voluntarily he maketh himself a prisoner, yet it is not to be said, that he is content with it, or that he hateth not him which keepeth him in subjection. There is no doubt of it, but though he have with his mouth promised & sworn fidelity to his Master, yet nevertheless, in heart he rebelleth against his service: And therefore it is no marvel though he fly his presence, and like better to be his servant a far of, then to do him service hard by. For so long as he is out of his masters sight, he forgetteth in a manner that he is a servant, & he thinketh he hath recovered his liberty: whereas contrariwise, when he cometh before his master, he holdeth down his head, & persuadeth himself he returneth to the collar like a dog, that for a time hath been let lose.  Guaz. 
It were good here that we came to the distinction of servants: for that which you say of servants which fly their masters presence, is not general, & is to be understood of that nature of vile and base servants, not of the good & such as are gentlemen: who for the most part, are never well, but when they are in their masters presence, and serve him lovingly and willingly. Whereupon it is said, That the gentleman loveth, and the slave feareth.  Annib. 
In the distinction which may be made between Gentlemen Courtiers which serve Princes, and the base sort, which serve Gentlemen, is, that the chains or Fetters of the base sort, are of iron, and those of the Gentlemen, of Gold.  Guaz. 
I hold well with that difference, and I make good moreover, that the chains of Gold, bind more strongly than those of iron, but I think you will not say that Gentlemen, and common Servingmen, serve with one mind, or propose to themselves one self end of their service.  Annib. 
I say unto you, that common Servingmen hate both their Master and the Chain, where the other love their Masters, but cannot away with the chain.  Guaz. 
I cannot see how it can be said, that Gentlemen cannot away with the Chain, seeing they seek not entertainment upon constraint or necessity, as the base sort do, but are naturally given that way, not pitching their mark at vile gain, as the other do, but at honour and renown: I will not speak of others, but of myself only, assuring you, that the Duke, my master, seeing that I am unfit to serve him, by reason of my sicklynesse, hath appointed me a better pension to live by hereafter in my house, than I had heretofore when I followed his Court: yet for all that (to confess unto you my ambition) I reason this with myself, that when I shall live in rest at my father's house, I shall be no more than others of my neighbours are, and I shall take myself to be as unprofitable to the world, whereas being about that Prince, I am in case every hour to pleasure a number of persons, to get friends daily, and to make myself honoured of the most honourable in the court: by reason whereof, I curse my infirmity, which will not suffer me long to be bound to this chain of Gold, which I like above all things in the world.  Annib. 
All men endued with noble minds, are in love with that Chain, not for itself, but for the honour which is annexed unto it: and I remember I have heard your brother say, that he loved my Lady his Mistress well, but he could not well away with service: and I can tell you, he had shrunk his head out of the cotler of ●hose insupportable pains long before that Princess died, if her exceeding bounty and extraordinary favours towards him, had not kept him from it. And in truth that constraint to eat, to speak, and to go, by the mouth, by the tongue, and by the feet of others, that estate never to have rest either of body or mind, to lose one's self in the service of his Master, to be short, those incommodities, vexations, troubles, and annoys, rehearsed in a Letter of yours, whereof you have endured in your own person a great part, fill up the Cup with so bitter a potion, that the smell of it, yea, the very remembrance of it, offendeth nature.  Guaz. 
You know well, that a man winneth not the wager without running.  Annib. 
Yet you know there are many which run, but only one winneth▪ and for one which you see recompensed for his service, you shall hear a number complain, that they have consumed their goods, and hazarded their lives in the service of Princes, without gaining other thing then a miserable old age, with 〈◊〉 late repentance, and 〈◊〉 there are of them which are not made to burst either with travail, or with grief. That Golden Chain never liked me, and I have always counted all service unsure and miserable, unless it were one kind of service of a Spanish ●●●tleman, who after he had long time served his king, made himself a monk, writing forthwith to the king, that he was preferred to the service of a greater Prince then h●e was, of whom he looked for better wages, than he received at his masters hands. These Servants which enter into the Ministry and Service of GOD; ●●e no doubt l●u● well both the Master and the Chain, and they are only they, amongst all others which ●●●e in serving: but for that our purpose is ●● speak of this earthly and uncertain service returning to Gentlemen Servingmen, I grant, that for the most part they love their masters, to whom they are like, in life, in mind, and in manners: and therefore they think themselves happy, when they are in their presence, and when they have occasion offered to do them some acceptable service: And as the base sort of servants, withdraw themselves so much as they may, out of their masters sight, to the end they may not be set about any thing: so contrarily, the better sort, think themselves in great favour, if they be oftener employed by their Masters, than their Fellows are.  Guaz. 
It is for no other cause that Princes are said to be better served than we are, but for that their servants are Gentlemen, and ours are otherwise: but I should think good, you came now to show the manner of conversation between the master and the servant.  Annib. 
Let us always follow the rule observed by us in our discourses, & first let us show the occasion of the discord and inconveniences, which arise every day amongst them, and afterwards we will seek the mean to make all well, and to agree them together.  Guaz. 
I think we have already declared one occasion of it, when we made mention of the difference between them in life and manners.  Annib. 
You say true, but as that occasion is common to the master and the servant: for here are two others, whereof the one dependeth of the master, the other of the servant▪ To the one it belongeth to command, to the other to serve, so that if either of them fail in their charge, there groweth between them trouble and disorder. The master committeth a fault when he knoweth not how to command, and therefore the Philosopher said well, That it behoveth the Master first to know, how to command those things which the servant ought to do: but it is not so easy a matter to know how to command, as it is to be a master.  Guaz. 
You must then prescribe unto the master, the manner of commanding.  Annib. 
The manner is set down, if that he set service before commanding, that is, if he learn to serve before he begin to command.  Guaz. 
I am of that mind, for I think it a matter impossible▪ that he should know how to play the master well, who never had master: and for that cause I would not change the Duke my Master for the Emperor, for being used even from his infancy to do continual service, first to king Henry, and then to king Francis and king Charles, his children and successors in the kingdom, and knowing of what importance it is to possess as well the hearts, as the persons of his servants, he useth a wise, and a gentle kind of commanding over his Gentlemen. And of the service which he doth himself, I have noted two good effects, the one in that enduring much travail both in mind and body, he knoweth by himself the pain of his own servants, by reason whereof, moved with pity, he beholdeth them with a more gracious eye, and commandeth them more gently. The other, for that (notwithstanding he is a great Prince, and may live at his ease) his servants seeing him serve continually, are stirred up by his example, to render him obedience, making no account of the pain which they endure in his service.  Annib. 
To say the truth, he showeth himself so worthy and courteous a prince, that he hath more servants throughout all Europe, then in his own court: but these times are so unfortunate, that there is no Homer to set forth the doings of such an Achilles. Now returning to the fault of Masters, we will say once again, that those only know well how to command, which know well how to obey. And for that few masters can do that, there are found almost in every house, masters that are undiscreet, proud, fantastical, and insolent, which entreat their servants no otherwise then if they were slaves, speaking imperiously to them, being not content, unless they see than tremble in their presence, using no speech unto them but full of terrifying, threatening, and reviling.  Guaz. 
Of such manner of dealing, it cometh that servants, though good and sufficient, begin to grow nought, and to wax cold in goodwill, and negligent in duty towards their masters: but those masters are more undiscreet, which brawl and chide with their servants before strangers: whereby in my mind they make the strangers think they are scarce welcome to their house, and beside, spite thereby their servants, the most of any thing in the world. For proof whereof, when a servant seeketh a master, he never inquireth whether he be covetous or of an ill life, but whether he be cruel and hard to please.  Annib. 
Those are yet worse which speak to their Servants with their hands: who belike have been beaten by their masters, if they have served, and therefore they will revenge it upon their servants: or else perchance they persuade themselves that their servants can not help themselves with their Poignadoes, whereof I saw an example at Padua. Truly there is nothing that angreth me more than that, for I cannot but think very ill of those which triumph tyrannously over their poor servants, from injuring of whom, they ought rather to abstain, then of their equals: for that it is an act of great bounty, to keep one's self from oppressing those whom he may easily oppress. And therefore it behoveth wise masters to forbear beating their Servants, remembering that the supreme master is not well pleased with him, who will take revenge out of his hands, and not leave the punishment of his servants to his divine pleasure, unless it be for such offences as are punishable by human laws. Other masters are of this fond humour, that they will have their servants understand their mind, in making only a sign, as if themselves were dumb, and their servants Diviners. Some will have their servants do three or four things at once, not having the judgement to consider that as a sextine said, a man cannot carry the cross, and ring the bells altogether. Some are so curious, that if they had a thousand servants, they would trouble them all, and yet would never be content, for that none of them all can please them, whose fashion it is every month to change a servant.  Guaz. 
We have at the court a gentleman, who about six months since, bestowed upon a servant of his a livery cloak, which since that time he hath bestowed upon four others, and taken it still from them again: and a little before our departure out of France, he sent unto me in the Evening his servant to sollicyte a letter of favour, which I should write in the Duke's name about certain business of his: and willing him to return the next morning to have the letter, the next day there came another to demand it: to whom as I said he was not the same who came the day before, he answered, Though I be not he, yet I am in his apparel, which my master this Morning pulled from his back to put upon me.  Annib. 
That in my judgement is a shameful thing, and though it be no dishonour to the master to uncloathe Peter to cloth Paul, yet at the least he receiveth dishonour in changing so oft his servants, for he thereby showeth himself an impatient man, and hard to please, and beside spreadeth his secrets and doings the farther abroad: for when a servant departeth from his Master, in what sort soever it be, whether contented or discontented, he cannot refrain from reporting where soever he go, the life and beehavyoure of his former Master: and though with one truth he mingle a hundredth lies, yet there be enough that will believe him: And beside, the Master is troubled to time his new servants to his fancy. Amongst other ill Masters may also be comprehended some so impatient and so unreasonable, that they will enjoin their servants to impossibilities, yea, and exact things at their hands, before they are commanded them: but the worst of all are those who will burden their servants wrongfully with some naughty dealing, and thereupon turn them away, keeping * their sweet, * and the sweet which is due unto them for it.  Guaz. 
It is an easy matter to find a staff to beat a dog.  Annib. 
It would be too long to rehearse all the imperfections which are in those masters which never served.  Guaz. 
Yea but those same have served and do serve daily, for that they are servants to their own vices.  Annib. 
I hold well with your saying: I will therefore pass to the occasion of disagreement between the master and the servant: which cometh by the servants when they know not how to serve and obey. I mean by the unfit to serve, not only fools and ignorant Asses, but also dishonest and knavish Companions, who though they are sufficient to execute any thing committed to their charge, yet they have some notable fault, whereby their Masters have just cause to put them away, but it is as hard a matter to find Servants without faults, as dropsy Patients without thirst: and though their faults be innumerable, yet their chiefest ornaments are the three properties of a Dog, to wit, the gullet, for that they are Gluttons: barking, for that the master can do nothing, but they will forthwith report it abroad: which the servant in the Comedy showed, saying he was full of chinks, whereat went out every thing which entered in at his ears: next, biting, which is so natural unto them, that let their masters do never so well by them, yet they will not stick to call them ungrateful, and to speak the worst word in their belly by them: according to the saying of the Poet: 
Of sorry servants, the worst part is the tongue.  But they are worse than dogs, for that besides the properties before spoken of, they are proud and arrogant, whereupon it is said, 
Of surly servants, every court is full.  That vice is accompanied with lying (a thing of all others most servile) framing themselves never to tell the truth to their masters, nor perchance to their ghostly fathers: but that were a small matter, if their faythlesnesse were not so great, that not content with fetching from their masters in disbursing of their money, and with proloyning from them otherwise, they will not be faithful in matters touching their honour and credit. I conclude, that their least fault deserveth the Galley, and that according to the saying, We have so many enemies as we have servants: but this is to be understood of the base and rascal sort, for it is not to be said, but that as there are good masters, so likewise are there good servants.  Guaz. 
I think it well, but to take away all disorder, it is requisite that the good master and the good servant be matched together: for if they be not both good, it is hard for the wisdom of the one, to supply the want of discretion in the other.  Annib. 
I think so, but we must here call to mind, that which we have already said, That the golden world being gone, the master and servant must think, that there is not absolute perfection to be found in any person: and that some imperfections must be borne withal on both sides, so that the best and most necessary parts be not wanting: which consideration not only the servant ought to have, remembering that it is his duty, to submit himself to the will and pleasure of his master, but the master much more, knowing that servants being for the most part of base condition, and naturally inclined to do ill, will not have that fidelity, diligence, and affection towards him, as he would have towards any Prince that he should serve: and considering that it were better for him to wink at some faults in his servants, then to disquiet himself in going about to reform them.  Guaz. 
I pray you then, tell me which are those imperfections, which are to be tolerated in servants.  Annib 
Your demand putteth me in mind of a fault I committed the other day, in rehearsing the imperfections of others: for that which I said unto you generally of tolerable men, suffereth this exception, that it extendeth not to persons of the house, who are under the jurisdiction of the master of the house: who ought not to open the way of vices to those to whom he may stop it, but rather to show himself more severe towards his own folk, then towards others: by the example of Cato, who said, He pardoned every one but himself. And it may well be said, that the faults of the servant belong in a manner to the Master: for if the proverb be true, That like man like master, and that a fish beginneth first to smell at the head, there is no doubt, but the faults of our servants will be laid upon us: either for that we have taught them, or else that we take delight in their naughtiness. The servant than shall be intolerable to his Master in those imperfections, which nevertheless may be tolerable to others: in so much that the Master ought not in any wise to bear with him, but either to turn him away, or else to make him to amend his faults.  Guaz. 
I doubt me lest you will restrain too much the rules of servants, and the bond of masters: for if the father for that he is let●ed with other affairs, causeth his children to be instructed by Masters and governors, to whom he giveth them in charge, there is no reason in it that he should become a teacher of his servants who being for the most part perversely given, he should have much to do to order them: so that he should be the servant, & not they. And for my part, I have somewhat else to do, them to go overlook my servants, being assured that they are occupied about no goodness.  Annib. 
I know in deed there are some servants, who in their masters presence, look as though butter would not melt in their mouth, but out of their sight, they will play their parts kindly, yea and will not stick to make moes at their master behind his back: but the master must not in any wise suffer his servants to commit, either in word or deed, any fault whereby God himself, or his neighbour may be dishonoured, giving them to understand, that he will entertain no naughtiness in his house, but that he hateth it mortally: whereby though he be not able thoroughly to root out their wickedness, yet at least he shall make them counterfeit to be honest, for fear to displease him. Touching some other natural imperfections of small importance, as to be rude, undiscreet, foolish, negligent, forgetful, crafty, quarrelous, spiteful, gluttonous, importunate, stouthfull, bragging, and such like, they ought to be borne withal, if they cannot be reclaimed from them: though for my part I think such servants better lost then found, and the house the worse that they are in: yet I know some honest gentlemen, who so long as their servants are faithful, and trusty, care not though they be fools, vain talkers, or jesters to make them merry.  Guaz. 
There was a gentleman at Paris, who going forth of his Lodging, willed his servant to go to a Butcher named David, to buy of him some tripes, but the Butcher having sold all his tripes, he returned to his Master, who was at the Church hearing a sermon, and by chance as he entered in at the Church, the Preacher (meaning to all ●ad gei●o●●e text of 〈◊〉 out of the Psalms of David) said, what saith David? marry saith he, that he hath sold all his tripes, I know not whether that aught to be termed foolishness, or pleasantness.  Annib. 
There are likewise some Masters, who when their servants take their pleasure of them with mocks and scoffs, rather take pleasure in i●, then seem angry with them: like as he, who called his servant King of fools, who answered, I would to God I were King of fools, I would not doubt then, but I should hear rule over him which is better than myself.  Guaz. 
I could not play the Philosopher so with my servants.  Annib. 
No more could I, but perchance that servant was so profitable to him otherwise, that he was content to bear that scoff at his hands: but for that all Masters are not so meek minded, to be served with such men, nor all servants so happy, to meet with Masters that can like of them: let us set down some such order that the Master and the servant may live and continue long time quietly together.  Guaz. 
That is it I long to hear.  Annib. 
First of all I think it necessary that he which doth desire to be well served, require in his servant three special things, that is to say, love, loyalty, and sufficiency: and such a one that master shall easily come by, which shall dispose himself to be a good and loving Master, following the commandment of the wise man, Love him whom thou nourishest, which he shall be forced to do, if he will but think with himself that Servants (though they serve) are men, that they are dwellers with us, ye● that they are our humble friends, and which is more, 〈◊〉 fellow Se●●auntes whereby he shall knowe● that it is his part to li●● g●nt●y 〈…〉 with them, by doing whereof he shall 〈◊〉 the good will of his Servants unto him, and 〈◊〉 that the 〈◊〉 of that saying, That so many Servants 〈◊〉 have, so many 〈◊〉 〈…〉 to accused the master, 〈◊〉 the servants for that we 〈…〉 not enemies, but we awake the 〈◊〉 be so by 〈◊〉 them.  Guaz. 
Y●● but 〈◊〉 how those which put that precept in practice findeth 〈◊〉 of that you say, & know 〈◊〉, that there is 〈…〉 more 〈◊〉 & glorious, often the 〈…〉 of the master: you know well the proverb.  

Claw a Clown he will thee Scratch.  
Scratch a Clown he will thee claw.   Annib. 
And for my par● 〈◊〉 not away to make my 〈◊〉 my companions, in being too sani●● with them I like well to love them, but not to embrace them.  Annib. 
We must set bounds and limits to all our doings, which we must not go beyond: I hold well with you that the master keep his state & degree, for being as you say hai●e fellow well met hath his servant, he should show himself to low minded, and not fit to command, and to be as it were a servant with servants, which would redound to his reproach: beside, he should 〈◊〉 perceive that too much familiarity would breed contempt. And therefore men of judgement behave themselves with their servants in such sort, that they neither make them to saucy by over much familiarity, neither too fearful by over much severity: for in no wise let a master be terrible to his Servant, least in frowning still upon him, he make him think that neither he loveth him, nor liketh of his service, which is the way quite to discourage him: And yet in giving good cuntenaunce to his servant, he must be wary to observe fit time and place, and if I may lawfully say it, he must have two faces in one parsonage, imitating the Sun, which running his course in the sky, one while showeth a face covered with clouds, and when those misty vapours are blown away, it showeth itself clear and bright. And as it beseemeth the master, abroad and in the presence of Strangers, to cast a grave and sad look upon his servants: so it is his part, being retired into his own house, to look more pleasantly upon them, and to speak more familiarly unto them: which is a thing they love of life, and are thereby encouraged to do him good service. And if the master be a gentleman that hath in his time done service to some Prince, he ought to call to mind how glad Courtiers are only of ● good word, or of some such like small favour of their Prince. You see then how a Master may with his honour show courtesy to his Servants, and thereby get their good will and love, whereby also jointly is purchased their loyalty and fidelity, a thing most necessary for his honour and profit: but for so much as sufficiency (as we have said) must be joined to love▪ and fidelity, I commit the charge to the master to instruct his servant in it.  Guaz. 
Why then you will make the master a schoolmaster of his servant.  Annib. 
Nay rather of himself, and that he learn to command, for if he can command well, he shall be served well: neither must he persuade himself that his Servants ought to discharge him of all his affairs, but that he must take part with them, & consider that it is no easy matter to govern servants, and that the greater number of them he shall have, the greater will his trouble be to guide them: for there fall out many household quarrels and contentions where there are many servants.  Guaz. 
Wherein I pray you consisteth the manner of commanding well?  Annib. 
In two things▪ whereof the one lieth in words, the other in deeds: Touching words, he must think that there is no servant so well framed to the service of other Masters, but that he must be fain to receive new Laws of his new Lord: and to know of him how he shall proceed in his doings, that he do nothing contrary to his will and pleasure, and therefore he must not think that at the first dash, his servant is made to his bow, but he must leisurely and patiently let him understand his mind, and speak freely unto him, as well to make him leave his old fashions, which perchance he liketh not, as to frame him to his own fancy. And if I were to take a Servant, I would rather choose a fresh water Soldier, which never had served, than one accustomed of long time to service: for those which have served in many houses, have for the most part gotten the habit of some ill quality, which they will hardly be brought to leave: but one that is but raw in service, showeth himself more tractable, more gentle, and more fit for all manner of service, & the master commonly will be better pleased with his good will, then with the others skill.  Guaz. 
I allow well of your opinion, for it is a thing too hard to change the manners of an old servingman: who sooner changeth his hair, than his habit which he hath gotten: & yet a master for a time, must be feign to use great patience, and take great pain with a young servingman.  Annib. 
It is true▪ but to be less troubled, let him be sure to choose one of a good wit, and fit for service.  Guaz. 
The Count Hector Miroglio our friend had one day good trial of the good wit of a new come servant: for having sent his other servants about other business, after he had made him dress up the house, he willed him to cover the table, which he did, and though that day he ●yned alone in his Chamber, yet his servant set two trenchers on the table, & two stools, by one against the other. The Count said nothing to it, but suspecting the meaning of his man, attended the end of the play: meat being brought in, so soon as his man had given him water, he sat him down, which he had no sooner done, but his man having likewise washed, sat him down right over against him. The Count being as you know, naturally given to be merry, yet he kept his countenance, and let his man alone. Having eaten a while friendly together, the man began to bethink him how his master might perchance be athirst, whereupon he said unto him, Master when you will drink▪ I pray you make no courtesy to command me, whereat the Count began to laugh so heartily, that the poor ●oole knowing his fault, rose to fetch him drink, but would sit down no more.  Annib. 
This Country surely in my opinion, bringeth forth no good servingmen.  Guaz. 
I think the cause of it is, for that in this place Princes ●●●ldome keep their Courts where Servingmen ●heefelye learn good behaviour: beside that our nature is such, that we make ourselves more familiar with our Servants then they do in other places, neither take we any great care to be served honourably, neatly, and reverently, whereof it cometh, that Servants are unskilful and untoward in their behaviour.  Annib. 
Yet I must say this for our Servants, though they be no● all of the civilest, yet they are faithful & trusty: which is a thing more to be set by, than civility, fineness, or bravery. We perceive then (to return to our purpose) that the Master who will be well served, must not be sparing of his speech, as well to command what he will have done, as gently to instruct his servant in that wherein he is ignorant, by telling him of his fault. Now having touched the commanding of Masters in words, we must speak of their commanding in deeds. The Master commandeth his Servant in deeds, so often as by his example and deeds he inviteth him to imitate him: And therefore if he will have his Servant careful and diligence in his service, he must likewise be careful about his business: for there is nothing that more awaketh the Servants, than the diligence of the Master, as on the other side it is impossible the Servants should be diligent if the master be negligent. And thereupon it is said, That the eye of the master fatteth the Horse: Touching which purpose, a Philosopher being asked which was the way to make Laude bring good store of Corn: answered, For the master to walk often about it, for the Master must think that his servants will think their labour light, when they shall see him take such part as they do. Moreover, he must make his account that they will follow him as well in naughtiness as in goodness: and therefore he must be as fearful to give them ill example, as careful to give them good example. The Master also commandeth well when he knoweth to use his authority in such sort, that he is better served with the turning of his eye, than others are with injurious and threatening words, wherewith they make all the house to shake: not knowing that (as the Poet saith) 
Great force lies hid in gentle Sovereignty.  And therefore let Masters to take heed of contrarying this saying, I will not like a Lion either dysorder thy household servants, or oppress thy subjects. Now when the Master knoweth he hath gotten the love, the fidelity, and the sufficiency of his servant, he must be careful ●● any wise to keep that which he hath gotten, whereto there is nothing of more efficacy then to use him courteously: aiding him in his troubles, visiting him in his sickness, and bestowing on him when occasion shall serve, that which shall cost the Master little, and pleasure the servant much, who thinketh himself nothing beholding to his Master for the wages which he hath for his travail, but only for that which he shall upon his courtesy liberally bestow upon him: And that Master is greatly deceived which thinketh that his servant, whether he be a Gentleman or not, serveth him only for wages without hope of other recompense. And therefore let him not forget to reward the good Servant, and keep him always about him as a precious thing: remembering that the servant is in a certain sort one part of the master, and that there is nothing in this life more necessary than a good Servant: Whereupon it is written, if thou have a trusty servant, let him be unto thee as thine own soul. Let not the master take scorn to hear his reasons sometimes to consult with him, and to govern himself according to his faithful advise: for that there have been found Servants, who have more advanced and profited their masters house, than his Brothers or Children have. To conclude, the master ought to use his servant familiarly, remembering to entreat his inferiors, as he would be entreated by his Superioures: which having regard unto, he will always fly that detestable vice of ingratitude, and according as he shall increase in ability, he will advance the state of his Servant, & besides his promised hire, not fail to recompense liberally, according to his power, the long and faithful service which he hath done him.  Guaz. 
You have as far as I see by one self mean, instructed both the master & the servant, yet I should think it not amiss, that the servant had some special charge given him.  Annib. 
I give in charge to the servant to learn the meaning of this old proverb, It is a hard matter to make a bed for a dog: for as a man cannot tell on which side he will lie, when he goeth turning round being ready to lie down, so a servant cannot tell what service he may do acceptable and agreeable to his master, being for the most heart variable and divers. And therefore the master being of so delicate a nature, he must determine with himself to take any pain in service, and yet all will be scarce enough to contene him but he must take heed of falling into the common error of servants, who like a new broom which sweepeth the house clean, serve diligently at the first, but after grow slothful: That is not the way to get favour, for not he which beginneth well, is worthy of recompense, but he which persevereth in well doing. And the servant must think that his master will look that he should rather heat then cool himself in service. Let the servant also conform all his thoughts and doings to the will and pleasure of his Master, and to tie the Ass (as they say) where his master will have him tied, without any contradiction: for there is nothing that spites a man more, then to see him who is bound unto him, and who ought to obey him, to make resistance against him. That he go not about to creep in credit with his master by flattery or hypocrisy, but to serve and obey him with an unfeigned heart: for by feigned words men gather an argument of faithless deeds, whereby his master beginneth to suspect him, & to think that he had more need be overlooked, then instructed: but in any wise let him not forget to do his faithful and true intent, not for fear, but for duties sake: like as a good wise fellow answered to one, who said unto him, If I take thee to my service, wilt thou be an honest man? Yea, said he, though you take me not. And for that all service is ill bestowed, which is not well accepted, and that there is no greater grief then to serve and not to please, when after certain proof he seethe that he cannot frame himself to his masters fancy, let him seek to departed from him rather with his good will then his ill: And when he seethe that he is in his masters books, let him there hold him, saying in his heart, Happy is he, who serveth the happy, and not seek change, remembering that the rolling stone getteth no moss. To be short, let there be no want found in him of love, of reverence, of faithfulness, of diligence, of wariness, of readiness, of secretness, let him not account of his own life, being in his masters service, and let him persuade with himself either (as the proverb is) To serve like a hind, or run away like a hart.  Guaz. 
It now cometh in my head, that we have not ordered our matters as we should have done, for that we have spoken of the conversation of private masters with the basest sort of servants, whereas we should first have spoken of the Conversation between the Prince and the courtier.  Annib. 
We said yesterday, that Princes had no need of our instructions, and therefore it is not needful to prescribe unto them any orders how to entertain their train: for they behave themselves in their courts honourably▪ peaceably, and quietly, they injury not their servants, either in words or deeds: neither are those disorders to be seen in Princes, Courts, as are commonly in private houses: to be ●reeft, they are every way faultless.  Guaz. 
Seing you are so loath (whatsoever the matter be) to set down any form of conversation to princes, yet would it might please you to prescribe some order at least to their servants, that our discourse may be no way defectuous.  Annib. 
Besides that it is now late, and that I am called away to other business, you know we are eased of this labour by him who with his learned pen hath most perfectly formed the Courtier.  Guaz. 
That Gentleman by the excellency of that work hath no doubt won to himself immortal fame, neither hath he omitted any thing belonging to the duty of a right courtier, but for all that I would it might please you to observe the order of a diligent Physician, who besides the receipts of other Physicians, will be sure to minister to his Patient somewhat of himself.  Annib. 
I will not stick to give you two receipt, if one be not enough: And for that it were to do wrong to gentlemen to propose unto them those simple & common things, to wit, the love, fidelity, diligence, and reverence, which is due to Princes, I give to a courtier this receit, that the Prince being as we said yesterday, a God on earth, it behoveth him to do him honour as to a sacred thing: remembering that when the Athenians denied Alexander divine honours, this voice was heard, though but Heathenish: Take heed least while you behold Heaven, you lose the earth. Behold the first receit. The other is compounded of two drougs which I have fetched out of the shop of an excellent Philosopher, the one of which or both, the Courtier using, may long time maintain himself in his prince's favour: These are abstinence, or else sugar sops.  Guaz. 
I pray you expound your compound more plainly.  Annib. 
I will do so in these two verses.  

Before their Prince let Courtiers silent be,  
Or let their words be faust with pleasant glee.   Guaz. 
O how short pleasures are, I did not think it had been so late. Now after the delicate meats you have made me taste this three days, I hope it will please you to morrow to close up my stomach with that Collation or Banquet which you have already promised me, that with that Sugar in my mouth, I may depart after to morrow to the Duke my Master: who by his Letters hath sent for me for some affairs of importance.  Annib. 
I will be with you to morrow not as you say to sweeten your mouth, but to take my leave of you: which would be very sour to me, but that you have put me in hope of your speedy return.  Guaz. 
I doubt not but that you take pleasure in my presence, for that you know I honour your singular virtues: but you may well think the pleasure which I receive by your presence, is so much greater, by how much the patient hath more need of the ph●sition, than the physician of the Patient: I will not say I have any longer need of you for to be healed, but to keep me in health, which by your means I have recovered.  Annib. 
I have perceived rather by the discourses passed between us, that you are rather a Physician then a Patient.  Guaz. 
You are not ignorant how in this my sickness I used solitariness instead of a remedy, whereby I could not have chosen but have shortne● my days: and therefore you made me know my fault, whereby I went about to make myself a grave, & letting me understand that conversation is the right medicine for such diseases, you taught me to discern good company from ill, you put me in mind of the general points which all men might to observe in their behaviour, and 〈◊〉 the particular points agreeing to every one in conversation and company, as well abroad as in the house, by the operation of which medicine feeling (God be thanked & you) my heart healed & lightened, I may be bold to say that I have likewise recovered the health of my body.  Annib. 
I know I have neither fully satisfied you nor myself in these discourses, but I am sure you are not deceived in affirming that civil conversation helpeth much the infirmity of the mind, for there is nothing in the world which teacheth us more wit or better manners, or which stirreth us more to well doing, or keepeth us back from ill doing, then the company and conversation with good & virtuous men: neither are you deceived, in saying that the health of the body often proceedeth of the health of the mind, for our Galen saith, The disquiet of the mind breedeth the disease of the body: and that he hath cured many diseases by bringing the pulses into good temper, and by quieting the mind: but being not so well skilled in curing diseased minds as I should be, and knowing myself to have need of Physic, I will be with you to morrow to delight you, though I be not able to do you good.  Guaz. 
I will attend you with great devotion: but I pray you come sooner than you did to day.  
Finis.  
Here endeth the third and last Book.