Examen de ingenios. THE EXAMINATION of men's Wits. In which, by discovering the variety of natures, is showed for what profession each one is apt, and how far he shall profit therein.  
By John Huarte. Translated out of the Spanish tongue by M. Camillo Camiili. Englished out of his Italian, by R. C. Esquire.  
LONDON, Printed by Adam Jslip, for Richard Watkins. 1594.   

TO THE RIGHT WORSHIPFUL SIR FRANCIS GODOLPHIN KNIGHT, ONE OF THE DEPUTY LIEUTENANTS OF CORNWALL.  
GOod Sir, your Bookereturneth unto you clad in a Cornish gabardine, which if it become him not well, the fault is not in the stuff, but in the botching Tailor, who never bond Apprentice to the occupation, and working only for his pastime, could hardly observe the precise rules of measure: but such as it is, yours it is, and yours is the workman, entirely addicted to reverence you for your virtues, to love you for your kindness, and so more ready in desire, than able in power to testify the same, do with my dewest remembrance take leave, resting  
At your disposition, R. C.   

TO THE MAJESTY of Don Philip, our Sovereign.  
TO the end that Artificers may attain the perfection requisite for the use of the commonwealth, me-thinketh (Catholic royal Majesty) a law should be enacted, that no carpenter should ecercise himself in any work which appertained to the occupation of an husbandman, nor a tailor to that of an architect, and that the Advocate should not minister Physic, nor the Physician play the Advocate, but ecah one excercise only that art to which he beareth a natural inclination, and let pass the residue. For considering how base and narrowly bounded a man's wit is for one thing and no more, I have always held it for a matter certain, That no man can be perfectly seen in two arts, without failing in one of them: now to the end he may not err in choosing that which fitteth best with his own nature, there should be deputed in the commonwealth, men of great wisdom and knowledge, who might discover each one's wit in his tender age, and cause him perforce to study that science which is agreeable for him, not permitting him to make his own choice: whence this good would ensue to your states and signiories; that in them should reside the rarest artificers of the world, and their works should be of the greatest perfection, for nought else than because they united art with nature. The like would I that the universities of our kingdoms did put in practice, for seeing they allow not that a scholar should pass to another faculty, unless he perfectly understand the Latin tongue, they should have also examiners, to try whether he who purposeth to study Logic, Philosophy, Divinity, or the Laws, have such a wit as is requisite for every of these sciences, for otherwise, besides the damage that such a one shall work afterwards to the Commonwealth, by using an art wherein he is not skilled, it is a grief to see that a man should take pains, and beat his brains about a matter wherein he cannot reap any advantage. For that at this day such a diligence is not used, those who had not a wit fit for Divinity, have destroyed the Christian religion. So do those who are untoward for Physic, shorten many a man's days: neither possesseth the Legal Science that perfection which it might receive, because it is not made known, to what reasonable power the use and interpretation of the laws appertaineth. All the ancient Philosophers found by experience, that where nature doth not dispose a man to knowledge, it falleth out a superfluous labour to toil in the rules of art. But none hath clearly and distinctly delivered what that nature is which maketh a man able for one science, and uncapable of another, nor how many differences of wits there are found in mankind, nor what Arts or Sciences do answer each in particular, nor by what tokens this may be known, which is the thing that most importeth.  
These four points (though they seem unpossible) contain the matter whereof I am to entreat, besides many others appurtenant to the purpose of this doctrine, with intention that curious parents may have an art & manner to discover the wit of their children, and may weet how to set each of them in hand with that science wherein he shall principally profit. And this is an advise which Galen saith was given his father, namely that he should set him to study Physic, because for that science he had a singular wit. By which your majesty shall understand how much it importeth the commonwealth, that there be established in the same a choice, and examination of wits for the sciences, seeing from the study which Galen bestowed in Physic, there ensued so great good to the diseased of his time, and he left so many remedies in writing for the posterity. Even as Baldus (a notable man in profession of the laws) when he studied and practised Physic, if he had passed further therein, would have proved but an ordinary Physician, as he was not better, for that he wanted the difference of wit requisite for this science, but the laws should have lost one of the greatest helps that might be found amongst men for expounding them.  
When I therefore purposed to reduce this new manner of Philosophy to art, and to prove the same in some wits, I remembered myself of your Majesty, as the best known, and one, at whom the whole world wondereth, beholding a Prince of so great knowledge and wisdom, of whom here we cannot conveniently entreat, the last chapter save one is your convenient place, where your Majesty shall see the purport of your own wit, and the art and learning wherewith you would have benefited your commonwealth if you had been a private person, as by nature you are our king and sovereign.   

❧ The second poem to the Reader.  
WHen Plato would teach any doctrine grave, subtle, and divided from the vulgar opinion, he made choice amongst his scholars of such as he reputed best witted, and to those only he imparted his mind, knowing by experience, that to teach delicate matters to persons of base understanding, was loss of time, loss of pains, and loss of learning. The second thing which he did after this choice made, was to prevent them with certain presuppositions, clear and true, which should not be wide from his conclusion: for the speeches and sentences which unlooked for are delivered against that which the vulgar believeth, at the beginning serve for nought else, (such prevention not being made) than to put in a confusion him that listeneth, and to breed such a loathing in men's minds, as it causeth them to lose their good affection, and to abhor and detest this doctrine. This manner of proceeding would I, that I might observe with thee, (curious Reader) if means could be used, that I might first treat with thee, and discover between thee and me the disposition of thy wit. For if it be such as is requisite for this doctrine, and estranged from the ordinary capacities, I would in secret tell thee such new and special conceits, as thou wouldst never have thought could fall within the compass of a man's imagination But inasmuch as this will not be, and this work must issue in public for all sorts, I could not but set thy brains somewhat a work: for if thy wit be of the common and vulgar alloy, I know right well thou art already persuaded, that the number of the sciences, and their perfection, hath been accomplished many days ago. And hereto thou art moved by a vain reason, that they having found out no more what to add, it is a token, that now there is in nothing, any more novelties. Now if by hap thou art possessed of such an opinion, go no further, nor read thou any longer on, for thou wilt be much aggrieved, to see how miserable a difference of wit possesseth thee. But if thou be discreet, well compounded, and sovereign, I will deliver unto thee 3 conclusions very true, albeit for their novelty they are worthy of great marvel.  
The first is, that of many differences of wit, which are in mankind, one only with pre-eminence can fall to thy lot, if already, nature, as very mighty, at such time as she framed it for thee, did not bestow all her endeavour, in uniting two only, or three, or (in that she could not effect the same) left thee a dolt, and deprived of them all.  
The second, that to every difference of wit there answereth in pre-eminence, but one only science, and no more of that condition. So as if thou divine not to choose that which answereth thy natural ability, thou shalt be very remiss in the rest, though thou ply them night and day.  
The third, that after thou hast known which the science is, that most answereth thy wit, there resteth yet (that thou mayst not be deceived) another greater difficulty, which is, whether thine ability be more appliable to the practic than the theoric, for these 2 parts (be it what science it will) are so opposite betwixt themselves, & require wits so different, that they may be placed one against the other, as if they were contraries. Hard are these sentences, but yet they have greater difficulty and hardness, uz. that we cannot appeal from them, nor pretend that we have received wrong. For God being the author of nature, and seeing that she gave not to each man more than one difference of wit, (as I have said before) through the opposition or difficulty which cumbereth us in uniting them, he applied himself to her, and of the Sciences which are distributed amongst men by grace, it is a miracle, if in an eminent degree, he give more than one. But there are (saith S. Paul) divisions of graces, and the same spirit; there are divisions of ministries, and the same Lord; there are divisions of operations, but the same God, who worketh all things in all persons. To every one is given the ministery of the spirit for profit: and to one is given by the spirit the word of wisdom, to another that of knowledge, after the same spirit, to another faith, in the same spirit, and to another the grace of healing, in the same spirit, to another the working of virtues, to another prophesying, and the description of spirits, to others the variety of tongues, to another the interpretation of words: but one self spirit, which divideth to every one as him pleaseth, worketh all these things.  
This bestowing of sciences (I doubt not) God useth, having regard to the wit and natural disposition of every person. For the Talents which he distributed, in S. Matthew, the same Evangelist saith, that he gave them unto every one according to his proper virtue.  
And to think that these supernatural Sciences require not some dispositions in the subject, before they be infused, is an error very great: for when God form Adam and Eve, it is certain that before he filled them with wisdom, he instrumentalized their brain in such sort, as they might receive it with ease, and serve as a commodious instrument, therewith to be able to discourse, and to form reasons. And therefore the divine scripture saith; God gave them an heart to think, and filled them with the discipline of understanding, and that according to the difference of which every one partaketh, one science is infused, and not another, or more or less of each of them, is a thing which may be understood by this example of our first parents, for God filling them both with wisdom, it is a verified conclusion, that he infused the lesser portion into her, for which reason the Divines say, that the devil took hardiness to beguile her, and durst not tempt the man, as fearing his much wisdom The reason hereof (as hereafter we will prove) is, that the natural composition which the woman had in her brain, is not capable of much wit, nor much wisdom. In the Angelical substances, we shall find also the like count and reason: for God, to give an angel more degrees of glory and higher gifts, first giveth him a more delicate nature; and if you inquire of the Divines whereto this delicate nature serveth, they answer, that the Angel who hath the deepest understanding, and the best nature, with most facility converteth himself unto God, and useth his gift with the more efficacy; and that the like betideth in men. Hence we clearly infer, that there being an election of wit for sciences supernatural, and that, not whatsoever difference of ability, is their commodious instrument, human learning (with more reason) requireth the same, because it is to be learned by men, with the force of their wit.  
To be able then to distinguish and discern these natural differences of man's wit, and to apply to each by art, that science wherein he may profit, is the intention of this my work. If I bring the same to end (as I have purposed) we will yield the glory to God, seeing from his hand proceedeth whatsoever is good and certain: and if not, thou knowest well (discreet Reader) that it is impossible both to devise an art, and to reduce the same to perfection. For so long and large are human sciences, that a man's life sufficeth not to find them out, and to give them that perfection which is requisite.  
The first inventor performeth very much, if he discover some notable principles, to the end that such as come after, may with this seed take an occasion to amplify the art, and to bring it into that estimation and account which is due thereunto. Aristotle alluding hereunto, saith: that the errors of those who first began to handle matters of Philosophy, are to be held in great reverence, for it proving a matter so difficult, to devise new things, and so easy to add unto that which hath been already spoken and treated of; the defects of the first deserve not (by this reason) to be much reproved, neither he who addeth aught, meriteth any great commendation. I confess that this my work cannot be excused from some errors, seeing the matter is so delicate, and no way fore-opened to entreat thereof. But if the same be in a matter where the understanding hath place to think, in this case I pray thee (witty Reader) that before thou give sentence thou read over the whole work, and assure thyself what the difference of thine own wit is, and if in the work thou find aught which in thine opinion is not well said, consider well of the reasons which sway the most against it, and if thou canst not resolve, then turn to read the eleventh chapter, for in that shalt thou find the answer which they may receive.   

The Examination or Trial of men's wits and dispositions.  
CHAP. I.  
He proveth by an example, that if a Child have not the disposition and ability, which is requisite for that science whereunto he will addict himself, it is a superfluous labour to be instructed therein by good schoolmasters, to have store of books, and continually to study it.  
THe opinion of Cicero was good, who, 
1. Book of Offices.  that his son Mark might prove such a one in that kind of learning, which himself had made choice of, as he desired; judged, that it sufficed to send him to a place of study, so renowned and famous in the world, as that of Athens, and to give him Cratippus for his schoolmaster, who was the greatest Philosopher of those days, bringing him up in a city so populous, where, through the great concourse of people which thither assembled, he should of necessity have many examples and profitings of strangers, fit to teach him by experience those things which appertained to the knowledge that himself was to learn. But, notwithstanding all this diligence, and much more beside, which (as a good father) he used, providing him books, and writing some unto him of his own head; the Historians report, that he proved but a Codshead, with little eloquence, and less philosophy, (a matter usual amongst men, that the son abies the much wisdom of the father.) Verily Cicero greatly beguiled himself, imagining that albeit his son were not issued out of nature's hands, with that wit and ability which is requisite for eloquence and philosophy, yet by means of the good industry of such a teacher, and the many books, and examples of Athens, together with the young man's continual endeavour, and process of time, the defects of his understanding would be amended: but we see, that finally he deceived himself, neither do I marvel thereat, for he had many examples to this purpose, which encouraged him to believe, that the same might also befall in the person of his son.  
For the same Cicero reports in his book of Destiny, that Zenocrates had a wit very untoward for the study of 
Book of Destiny.  Natural and Moral philosophy, of whom Plato said, That he had a scholar, who stood in need of a spur; and yet notwithstanding, through the good industry of such a master, and the continual travel of Zenocrates himself, he became a very great Philosopher. And he writes the like also of Cleantes, who was so doltish and void of understanding, that no teacher would receive him into his school; whereat the young man aggrieved and ashamed, endured so great toil in studying, that he came afterwards to be called a second Hercules for wisdom. No less untoward for matters of eloquence, seemed the wit of Demosthenes, of whom it is said, that when he was now grown big, he could not yet speak plain, but labouring and applying the art, by hearing of good teachers, he proved the best Orator of the world: and specially (as Cicero recounts) he could not pronounce the letter, R, for that he did somewhat stammer, and yet by practice he grew to articulate it so well, as if he had never had that way any defect. Hence took that proverb his original, which saith, That man's wit in matters of science, is like a player at dice, for if any one prove unlucky in throwing his chance, by artificial practice he comes to amend his evil fortune. But none of these examples produced by Cicero, remains without a convenient answer in my doctrine: for (as we will hereafter prove) there is in youngmen a certain dullness, which argues a greater wit in another age, than if the same had been sharp from their childhood: nay it is a judgement that they will prove loutish men, when they begin very soon to discourse and be quick of conceit. Wherefore, if Cicero had known the true tokens by which wits are in their first age to be discovered, he would have held it a good sign, that Demosthenes was rude and slow of speech, and that Zenocrates had need of a spur whilst he learned. I take not from a good instructor art, and industry, their virtue and force, to manure wits, as well rude as pliant: but that which I will say, is, that if a young man have not of himself an understanding capable of precepts and rules, which properly belong to the art he would learn, and to none other, that the diligence 
* Dialogue of knowledge. By the only understanding of Socrates, may this comparison be verified, for he taught by demands, and handled the matter so, that the scholar himself attained to knowledge, without his telling him the same.  used by Cicero with his son, was as vain as that which any other parent shall use with his son, will be in the like. Those who have read Plato shall easily know, that this doctrine is true, who reports that Socrates was the son (as he also reported himself) of a midwife, & that as his mother (albeit she were much praised in the art) could not make a woman to be delivered, that before her coming to her was not with child; so he (performing the like office as his mother) could not make his scholars bring forth any science, if of themselves they had not their understanding conceived therewith. He was of opinion, that sciences were (as it were) natural to those men only, who had their wits appliable thereunto; and that in such it befell, as we see by experience in those who have forgotten somewhat which they first knew, who if we put them in mind but of one word, gather from that all the residue.  
Masters (for aught that I can gather) have none other office with their scholars, than to bring learning to their remembrance, for if they have a fruitful wit, they make them with this only to bring forth wonderful conceits, otherwise they do but afflict themselves, and those whom they instruct, nor ever obtain their desires. And (at least if I were a teacher) before I received any scholar into my 
Man's Wisdom, is not Remembrance: wherefore we have here above spoken against Plato, for that he held this opinion.  school, I would grow to many trials and experiments with him, until I might discover the quality of his wit, and if I found it by nature directed to that science whereof I made profession, I would willingly receive him, for it breeds a great contentment in the teacher, to instruct one of good to wardliness: and if not, I would counsel him to study that science, which were most agreeable with his wit. But if I saw, that he had no disposition or capacity for any sort of learning, I would friendly and with gentle words tell him; Brother, you have no means to prove a man of that profession which you have undertaken, take care not to lose your time and your labour, and provide you some other trade of living, which requires not so great an ability as appertaineth to learning. Hereof is seen very plain experience, for we behold a great number of scholars enter the course of whatsoever science, and (be the teacher very good or very bad) finally every day some prove of great skill, some of mean, and some in their whole course, have done nought else than lose their time, spend their goods, and beat their brains without any manner of profit.  
I wots near whence this effect may spring, they all hearing one self teacher, and with equal diligence and care, and perhaps the dull take more pain than the witty, and this difficulty grows the greater, by seeing that those who are untoward for one science, are very apt to another, and the toward in one sort of learning, passing to another sort, can understand nothing. But myself am at least a good witness in this truth; for there were three companions of us, who entered together to study the Latin tongue, and one of us learned the same with great facility, the rest could never make any commendable composition; but all passing on to Logic, one of those who could not learn Grammar, proved in that art a principal Eagle, and the other two, in the whole, never learned one ready point; then all three coming to hear Astrology, it was a matter worthy of consideration, that he who could no skill of Latin or Logic, in few days knew more in Astrology than his master that taught them, and the rest could never learn it. I then marveling hereat, began forth with to make discourses, and play the Philosopher hereon, and so I found that every science required a special and particular wit, which reaved from that, was little worth in other sorts of learning. And if this be true (as verily it is, and we will so prove it hereafter) he that at this day should enter into the schools of our times, making proof and assay of the scholars wits, how many would he change from one science to another, & how many would he send into the fields for dolts and unable to learn? and how many would he call back of those, who for want of ability are occupied in base exercises, and yet their wits were by nature created only for learning? but sithence this cannot be brought about nor remedied, it behooves to stay no longer hereon, but to pass forward.  
It cannot be denied, but that (as I have said) there are wits found capable of one science, which are untoward for another: and therefore it behooves, before the child be set to study, to discover the manner of his wit, and to see what science agreeth with his capacity, and then to provide that he may apply the same. But it is necessary also to consider, that this which hath been said, sufficeth not to make a man prove sufficiently learned, but we must have regard of other conditions no less requisite than is this of towardliness. For Hypocrates saith, that man's wit holds the like proportion with knowledge, as the earth doth with seed, which though of herself she be fruitful and fat, yet it behooves to manure her, and use advisement to what sort of seed her natural disposition inclineth; for every sort of earth cannot without distinction, produce every sort of seed. Some better brings forth Wheat than Barley, and some Barley better than Wheat; and of Wheats some bring a plentiful increase of good Lammas Wheat, and cannot away with the Basest sort.  
Neither doth the good husbandman content himself to make this only distinction, but after he hath manured the earth in due season, he looks for convenient time to sow it, for it cannot be done at all times of the year, and after that the grain is sprung up, he cleanseth and weedeth it, that it may increase and grow, giving the fruit which of the seed is expected. After this sort, it is necessary that the science being known, which best fitteth with the person, he begin to study from his first age, for this (saith Aristotle) is the most pliant of all others to learning. Moreover, man's life is very short, and the arts long and toilsome, for which it behooves that there be time sufficient to know them, and space to exercise them, and therewith to profit the common wealth. children's memory (saith Aristotle) is a table without any picture, because it was but a little while since they were borne, and so they receive any thing whatsoever with facility; and not as the memory of old men, which full of those many things they have seen in the long course of their life, is not capable of more: and therefore Plato saith, that in the presence of youth, we should recount honest tales and actions, which may incite them to virtuous doings, for what they learn 
In the second age called youth, a man makes an union of all the differences of wit, in such as they may be united, for that this age is more temperate than all the rest: wherefore it is unfitting to let it pass without learning of knowledge, whereby a man may live.  in that age, abides still in their minds, and not (as Galen saith) that then it behooves to learn the arts, when our nature hath accrued all the forces that she can have; which point is void of reason if you admit no distinction. He that is to learn the Latin tongue or any other language, aught to do it in his childhood, for if he tarry till the body be hardened, and take the perfection that it ought to have, he shall never reap available profit. In his second age, namely boys state, it is requisite that he travail in the art of Syllogisms, for then the understanding gins to display his forces, which hath the same proportion with Logic, as shackles have with the feet of mules not yet trained, who going some days therewith, take afterward a certain grace in their pace: so our understanding shackled with the rules & precepts of Logic, takes afterwards a graceful kind of discoursing and arguing in sciences and disputations. Then follows youth, in which all the sciences appertaining to the understanding may be learned, for that hath a ripened knowledge.  
True it is, that Aristotle excepteth natural Philosophy, saying, a young man is not of fit disposition for this kind of doctrine, wherein it seemeth he hath reason, for that it is a science of deeper consideration and wisdom than any other.  
Now the age thus known, in which sciences are to be learned, it behooves to search out a commodious place for the same, where nothing else save learning may be handled, and such are the Universities: but the youth must forego his father's house, for the dandling of the mother, brethren, kindred, and friends which are not of his profession, do greatly hinder his profiting. This is plainly seen in the scholars who are native of the cities and places where Universities are seated, none of which (save by great miracle) ever become learned. And this may easily be remedied, by changing of Universities, and the native of one city going to study in another. This faring, that a man takes from his own country to make himself of worth and discretion, is of so great importance, that there is no master in the world who can teach him more, and especially, when a man sees himself (sometimes) abandoned of the favour and delights of his country. Depart out of thy land (said God to Abraham) and sever thyself from amidst thy kindred and thy father's house, and come to the place where I will show thee, in which thou shalt make thy name great, & I will give thee my blessing. The like says God to all men, who desire to prove of value and wisdom: for albeit he can bless them in their native country, yet he will, that men dispose themselves by this mean which he hath ordained, and that wisdom be not attained by them with idleness. All this is meant with a foregoing presupposal, that a man have a good wit and be apt, for otherwise, He that goes a beast to Rome, returns a beast again. Little avails it, that a dullard go to learn in the famous places of study, where there is no chair of understanding, nor wisdom, nor a man to teach it.  
The third point of diligence is, to seek out a master who hath a direction and method in teaching, whose doctrine is sound and firm, not sophistical nor of vain considerations: for all that the scholar doth, whilst he is a learning, is to credit all that which his master propounds unto him, for he hath no sound judgement or discretion to discern or separat falsehood from truth, albeit this is a chanceful case, and not placed in the choice of such as learn, that the scholars come in due time to study, and that the Universities have good or unfit instructors; as it befell certain Physicians, of whom Galen reports, that having convinced them by many reasons and experiments, and showed them, that the practice which they used was false and prejudicial to men's health; the tears fell from their eyes, and in his presence they began to curse their hard hap, in lighting on such bad masters as bare sway during the time that they were learners. True it is, that there are found some scholars of so ripe wit, as they straightways look into the condition of the teachers, and the learning which he teacheth, and if it be vicious, they know how to confute the same, and to give allowance to such as deliver sound; these at the years end teach their master much more than their master taught them; for doubting & demanding wittily, they make him to understand and answer things so exquisite, as he himself never knew nor should have known, if the scholar with the felicity of his wit, had not brought them to his mind: but those who can do this, are one or two at the most, and the dullards are infinite, through which, it would do well (seeing this choice and Examination of Wits for every science is not had) that the Universities always made provision of good teachers, endued with sound learning, and a clear discerning wit, to the end they may not instruct the ignorant in errors and false propositions.  
The fourth diligence requisite to be used, is to study every science with order, beginning at his principles, and passing through the midst to the end, without having matter that may presuppose another thing before. For which cause, I have always held it an error, to hear many lessons of divers matters, and to carry them all home fartheled up together. By this means there is made a mass of things in the understanding, which afterwards, when they come to practise, a man knows not how to turn to use the precepts of his art, nor to assign them a place convenient: and it is much better to bestow labour in every matter by itself, and with that natural order which it holds in his composition, for in the self manner as it is learned, so is it also preserved in the memory. And more in particular, it is necessary that they do this, who of their own nature have a confused wit: and this may easily be remedied by hearing one matter by itself, and that being ended, to enter into the next following, till the whole art be achieved. Galen well understanding of how great importance it was to study matters with order and conceit, wrote a book to teach the manner that was to be held in reading his works, to the end that the Physician might not be tangled in confusion. Others add hereunto, that the scholar, whilst he learneth, have but one book which may plainly contain the points of his learning, and that he attend to study that only and no more, lest he grow into a garboil and confusion, and herein they are warranted by great reason.  
The last thing which makes a man prove of rare learning, is to consume much time at his book, and to expect, that knowledge have his due digestion, and take deep root; for as the body is not maintained by the much which we eat and drink in one day, but by that which the stomach digesteth and turneth: so our understanding is not filled by the much which we read in little time, but by that which by little and little it proceeds to conceive and chew upon. Our wit day by day disposeth itself better and better, and comes (by process of time) to light on things which before it could neither understand nor conceive. Understanding hath his beginning, his increase, his standing, and his declining, as hath a man, and other creatures and plants; it gins in boys age, hath his increase in youth, his standing in middle or man's age, and in old age it gins to decline. Who so therefore would know at what time his understanding enjoyeth all the forces which it may partake, let him weet, that it is from the age of thirty and three until fifty, little more or less, within which compass we may best give credit to grave authors, if in the discourse of their life, they have held contrary opinions; and he that will write books, let him do it about this age, and not before nor after, if he mean not to unsay again, or change opinion.  
But man's age hath not in all people a like measure and reason; for in some, childhood ends in twelve years, in some at fourteen, some have sixteen, and some eighteen; such lives very long, because their youth arrives to little less than forty years, and their ripe or firm age to threescore, and they have afterward twenty years of old age, wherethrough their life amounts to fourscore, and this is the term of those who are very strong. The first sort, who finish their childhood at twelve years, are very short lived, and begin speedily to discourse, their beard soon sprowteth out, and their wit lasteth but a small time, these at thirty five years begin to decline, and at forty and eight, finish their life.  
Of all the conditions above specified, there is not any 
The principal of all these, is Nature, for if she be in them who apply their mind to Art, they may pierce thorough all the other things above specified. So Baldus betook himself to the study of the Laws, when he was wel-aged, wherethrough some said unto him in a scoff: Thou comest too late, O Baldus, and wilt prove a good advocate in the other world: but because he had a capacity conformable for the laws, he proved learned in a short season.  one which is not very necessary, profitable, and helpful in practice for a young man to receive notice of, but to have a good and answerable nature to the science which he pretendeth to study, is the matter which most makes for the purpose: for with this, we have seen, that divers men have begun to study, after their youth was expired, and were instructed by bad teachers, with evil order, and in their own birth-places, and yet for all that have proved great clerks. But if the wit fail (saith Hypocrates) all other diligences are lost. But there is no man who hath better verified this, than the good Marcus Cicero, who through grief of seeing his son such a doo-nought, with whom none of the means could prevail, that he had procured to breed him wisdom, said in the end after this sort: What else is it, after the manner of the Giants, to fight with the gods, than to resist against nature? as if he should have said. What thing is there, which better resembles the battle, which the giants undertook against the gods, than that a man who wanteth capacity, should set himself to study? for as the giants never overcame the gods, but were still vanquished by them: so whatsoever scholar will labour to overcome his own untoward nature, shall rest vanquished by her. For which cause, the same Cicero counseleth us, that we should not use force against our nature, nor endeavour to become Orators, if she assent not, for we shall undergo labour in vain.   

CHAP. II.  
That Nature is that which makes a man of ability to learn.  
IT is an opinion very common and 
Nature gives ability, Art facility, Use sufficiency.  ordinary amongst the ancient Philosophers, to say, That Nature is she who makes a man of ability to learn, and that art with her precepts and rules gives a facility thereunto, but then use and experience, which he reaps of particular things, makes him mighty in working. Yet none of them ever showed in particular, what thing this nature was, nor in what rank of causes it ought to be placed: only they affirmed, that this, wanting in him who learned, art, experience, teachers, books, and travail are of none avail. The ignorant 
Above all things Nature is necessary, for if she gainsay, all other drifts are attempted in vain.  vulgar seeing a man of great wit and readiness, straightways assign God to be the author thereof, and look no further, but hold every other imagination that goes beyond this, for vanity: but natural Philosophers despise this manner of talking, for put case that the same be godly, and contain therein religion and truth, yet it groweth from not knowing the order and disposition which God placed amongst natural things that day when they were created, and so cover their ignorance with a kind of warrantise, and in sort, that none may reprehend or gainsay the same, they affirm that all befalls as God will, and that nothing succeeds, which springs not from his divine pleasure. But though this be never so apparent a truth, yet are they worthy of reproof: because, as not every kind of demand (saith Aristotle) is to be made after one fashion, so not every answer (though true) is to be given.  
Whilst a natural Philosopher reasoned with a Grammarian, there came to them an inquisitive Gardener, and asked what the cause might be, that he cherishing the earth so charily, in delving, turning, dunging, and watering it, yet the same never well brought forth the herbage which he sowed therein; whereas the herbs which she bred of herself, she caused to increase with great facility. The Grammarian answered, This grew from the divine providence, and was so ordained thorough the good government of the world: at which answer, the natural Philosopher laughed, seeing he reduced this to God, because he knew not the discourse of natural causes, nor in what sort they proceeded to their effects. The Grammarian perceiving the other laugh, asked whether he mocked him, or whereat else he laughed? The Philosopher answered that he laughed not at him, but at the master who taught him so ill, for the knowledge and solution of things which spring from the divine providence (as are the works supernatural) appertain to the metaphysics (whom we now term Divines:) but this question propounded by the Gardener, 
In all Knowledges, we must understand how far their jurisdiction extendeth, and what questions appertain unto them.  is natural, and appertaineth to the jurisdiction of the natural Philosophers, because there are certain ordered and manifest causes, from which this effect may spring. And thus the natural Philosopher answered, saying, that the earth is conditioned like a stepmother, who very carefully brings up her own children which she breeds herself, but takes away the sustenance from those which appertain to her husband, and so we see that her own children are fat and fresh, and her stepchilds weak and ill coloured. The herbs which the earth brings forth of herself, are borne of her proper bowels, and those which the Gardener makes to grow by force, are the daughters of another mother, wherethrough she takes from them the virtue and nourishment, by which they ought to increase, that she may give it to the herbs which are borne of herself.  
Hypocrates likewise reports, that he going to visit the great Philosopher Democritus, he told him the follies which the vulgar speak of Physic, namely, that seeing themselves recovered from sickness, they would say, it was God who healed them, and that if his will were not, little had the good diligence of the Physician availed. This is so ancient a manner of talk, and the natural Philosophers have so often refuted it, that the seeking to take the same away, were superfluous, neither is it convenient: for the vulgar, who know not the particular causes of any effect, answereth better and with more truth, as touching the universal cause, which is God, than to say some other unfitting thing. But I have often gone about to consider the reason & the cause whence it may grow, that the vulgar sort is so great a friend to impute all things to God, and to reave them from nature, & do so abhor the natural means: and I know not whether I have been able to find it out. The vulgar (at least) gives hereby to understand, that forasmuch as they know not what effects they ought to attribute to God immediately, and what to Nature, they speak after this manner. Besides that, men are for the most part impatient, and desirous to accomplish speedily what they covet. But because the natural means are of such prolixity, and work with length of time, they possess not the patience to stand marking thereof, and knowing that God is omnipotent, and in a moment of time performeth whatsoever him pleaseth (whereof they find many examples) they would that he should give them health, as he did to the sick of the palsy; and wisdom, as to Solomon; riches, as to job; and that he should deliver them from their enemy, as he did David.  
The second cause is, for that men are arrogant, and vain conceited, many of whom, desire secretly in their hearts, that God would bestow upon them some particular graces, which should not befall after the common use (as is, that the sun ariseth upon the good and bad, and that the rainè falls upon all in general) for benefits are so much the more highly prized, as they are the more rare. And for this cause we have seen many men to feign miracles in houses and places of devotion, for straightways, the people flocks unto them, and holds them in great reverence, as persons of whom God makes a special account: and if they be poor, they favour them with large alms, and so some sin upon interest.  
The third reason is, that men have a liking to be well at their ease, whereas natural causes are disposed with such order and conceit, that to obtain their effects, it behooves to bestow labour. Wherefore they would have God demean himself towards them, after his omnipotency, and that (without sweeting) they might come to the wellhead of their desires. I leave aside the malice of those, who require miracles at God's hand, thereby to tempt his almightiness, and to prove whether he be able to do it: and othersome, who to be revenged after their hearts desire, call for fire from heaven, and such other cruel chastisements.  
The last cause is, for that many of the vulgar are reliligiously given, and hold dear, that God may be honoured 
The Lord working therewithal, and confirming with his word followed by signs.  and magnified, which is much sooner brought about by way of miracles than by natural effects, but the common sort of men know not, that works above nature and wonderful, are done by God, to show those who know it not, that he is omnipotent, and that he serves himself of them, as an argument to prove his doctrine, and that this necessity once ceasing, he never doth it more. This may well be perceived, considering that God doth no longer those unwonted things of the new testament: and the reason is, for that on his behalf, he hath performed all necessary diligence, that men might not pretend ignorance. And to think that he will begin anew to do the like miracles, and by them once again to prove his doctrine, in raising the dead, restoring sight to the blind, and healing the lame and sick of the palsy, is an error very great; for once God taught men what is behoveful, and proved the same by miracles, but returns not to do it any more. God speaks once (saith job) and turns not to a second replial. 
job. 33.   
The token whereon I ground my judgement, when I would discover whether a man have a wit appropriate to Natural Philosophy, is, to see whether he be addicted to reduce all matters to miracle, without distinction; and contrariwise, such as hold not themselves contented, until they know the particular cause of every effect, leave no occasion to mistrust the goodness of their wit. These do well know, that there are effects which must be reduced to God immediately, (as miracles) and others to nature, (and such are those, which have their ordinary causes, from whence they accustom to spring) but speaking both of the one manner and the other, we always place God for author: for when Aristotle said, that God and nature did nothing in vain, he meant not, that nature was an universal cause, endowed with a jurisdiction severed from God, but that she was a name of the order and consent, which God hath bestowed in the frame of the world, to the end that the necessary effects might follow, for the preservation thereof. For in the same manner, it is usually said that the King, and Civil Reason, do no man wrong. In which kind of speech, no man conceiveth that this name Reason, signifieth a Prince which possesseth a several jurisdiction from that of the king; but a term, which by his signification, embraceth all the royal laws, and constitutions ordained by the same king, for the preservation of his common wealth in peace. And as the king hath his special cases reserved to himself, which cannot be decided by the law, for that they are unusual and weighty: in like manner God left miraculous effects reserved for himself, neither gave allowance unto natural causes, that they might produce them. But here we must note, that he who should know them 
The ignorance of natural Philosophy, is cause that miracles are imputed where they ought not.  for such, and difference them from natural works, behooves to be a great natural Philosopher, and to understand the ordinary causes that every effect may hold, & yet all this sufficeth not, unless the Catholic church ratify them to be such. And as the Doctor's labour and study in reading this civil Reason, preserving the whole in their memory, that they may know and understand what the kings will was, in the determination of such a case: so we natural Philosophers (as doctors in this faculty) bestow all our study in knowing the discourse and order, which God placed that day when he created the world, so to contemplate and understand in what sort, and upon what cause, he would that things should succeed. And as it were a matter worthy laughter, that a doctor should allege in his writings (though approved) that the king commands a case should be thus determined, without showing the Law and Reason, through which it was so decided: so natural Philosophers laugh at such as say, This is God's doing; without assigning the order and discourse of the particular causes whence they may spring. And as the king will give them no ear, when they require him to break some just law, or to rule some case besides the order of justice, which he hath commanded to be observed: so God will not hearken when any man demands of him miracles and works besides natural order, without cause why. For albeit the king every day abrogates and establisheth new laws, and changeth judicial order (as well through the variation of times, as for that it is the judgement of a frail man, and cannot at one only time, attain to perfect right and justice) notwithstanding the natural order of the universe, which we call nature, from that day wherein God created the world, unto this, hath had no need of adjoining or reaving any one jot, because he framed the same with such providence and wisdom, that to require this order might not be observed, were to say, that his works were unperfect.  
To return then to that sentence so often used by natural Philosophers, that Nature makes able; we must understand that there are Wits, and there are Abilities, which God bestoweth upon men besides natural order, as was the wisdom of the Apostles, who being simple and of base account, were miraculously enlightened and replenished with knowledge and learning. Of this sort of ability & wisdom, it cannot be verified, that nature makes able; for this is a work, which is to be imputed immediately unto God, & not unto nature: The like is to be understood of the wisdom of the prophets, and of all those to whom God granted some grace infused. Another sort of ability is found in men, which springs of their being begotten, with that order and consent of causes which are established by God to this end: and of this sort it may be said with truth; Nature makes able. For (as we will prove in the last chapter of this work) there is to be found such an order and consent in natural things, that if the fathers in time of procreation, have regard to observe the same, all their children shall prove wise, and none otherwise. But the whilst, this signification of nature is very universal and confused, and the understanding contents not itself, nor stayeth, until it conceive the particular discourse, and the latest cause, and so it behooves to search out another signification of this name Nature, which may be more agreeable to our purpose.  
Aristotle and other natural Philosophers, descend into more particularities, and call Nature, whatsoever substantial form, which gives the being to any thing, and is the original of all the working thereof; in which signification, our reasonable soul may reasonably be termed nature, for from her we receive our formal being, which we have of being men, and the self same is the beginning of whatsoever we do and work. But all souls being of equal perfection (as well that of the wiser, as that of the foolish) it cannot be affirmed, that nature in this signification, is that which makes a man able, for if this were true, all men should have a like measure of wit and wisdom: and therefore the same Aristotle found out another signification of nature, which is the cause, that a man is able or unable; saying, that the temperature of the four first qualities, (hot, cold, moist, and dry) is to be called nature, for from this issue all the abilities of man, all his virtues and vices, and this great variety of wits which we behold. And this is clearly proved by considering the age of a man when he is wisest, who in his childhood is no more than a brute beast, and useth none other powers than those of anger and concupiscence; but coming to youth, there gins to shoot out in him a marvelous wit, and we see that it lasteth till time certain, and no longer, for old age growing on, he goes every day losing his wit, until it come to be quite decayed.  
The variety of wits, it is a matter certain that it springs not from the reasonable soul, for that is one self in all ages, without having received in his forces and substance any alteration: but man hath in every age a divers temperature, and a contrary disposition, by 
Hypocrates used unproper terms, when he said, the soul of man is produced until his death.  means whereof, the soul doth other works in childhood, other in youth, and other in old age. Whence we draw an evident argument, that one self soul, doing contrary works in one self body, for that it partakes in every age a contrary temperature, when of young men, the one is able, and the other unapt, this grows for that the one of them enjoys the divers temperature from the other. And this (for that it is the beginning of all the works of the reasonable soul) was by the Physicians and the Philosophers, termed Nature; of which signification, this sentence is properly verified, that Nature makes able.  
For confirmation of this doctrine, Galen writ a book, wherein he proveth, That the manners of the soul, follow the temperature of the body, in which it keeps residence, and that by reason of the heat, the coldness, the moisture, and the drought, of the territory where men inhabit, of the meats which they feed on, of the waters which they drink, and of the air which they breathe: some are blockish, and some wise: some of worth, and some base: some cruel, and some merciful: many strait breasted, and many large: part liars, and part true speakers: sundry traitors, and sundry faithful: somewhere unquiet, and somewhere stayed: there double, here single: one pinching, another liberal: this man shamefast, that shameless: such hard, and such light of belief. And to prove this, he cities many places of Hypocrates, Plato, and Aristotle, who affirm, that the difference of nations, as well in composition of the body, as in conditions of the soul, springeth from the variety of this temperature: and experience itself evidently showeth this, how far are different Greeks from Tartarians: Frenchmen from Spaniards: Indians from Dutch: and Aethiopians from English. And this may be seen, not only in countries so far distant, but if we consider the provinces that environ all Spain, we may departed the virtues and vices which we have recounted, amongst the inhabitants, giving each one his peculiar vice and virtue; and if we consider the wit and manners of the Catalonians, Valentians, Mercians, Granatines, Andaluzians, Estremenians, Portugals, Gallesians, Asturians, Montagnese, Biscanes, Navarrists, Arragonois, and of the kingdom of Castille, who sees not and knows not, how far these are different amongst themselves, not only in shape of countenance, and in feature of body, but even in the virtues and vices of the soul? Which all grows, for that every of these provinces hath his particular and different temperature. And this variety of manners is known, not only in countries so far off, but in places also that are not more than a little league in distance, it cannot be credited what odds there is found in the wits of the inhabitants. Finally, all that which Galen writeth in this his book, is the groundplot of this my Treatise, albeit he declares not in particular, the differences of the abilities which are in men, neither as touching the sciences which every one requires in particular. Notwithstanding, he understood 
In every city the wisest and eldest persons should look into and judge of the natural quickness of children, and so give notice, that each one might learn an art agreeable to his nature.  that it was necessary to departed the sciences amongst young men, and to give each one that which to his natural ability was requisite, in as much as he said, That well ordered common wealths, aught to have men of great wisdom and knowledge, who might in their tender age, discover each one's wit and natural sharpness, to the end they might be set to learn that art which was agreeable, and not leave it to their own election.   

CHAP. III.  
What part of the body ought to be well tempered, that a young man may have ability.  
Man's body hath so many varieties of parts and powers (applied each to his end) that it shall not stray from our purpose, but rather grows a matter of necessity, to know first, what member was ordained by nature for the principal instrument, to the end man might become wise and advised. For it is a thing apparent, that we discourse not with our foot, nor walk on our head, nor see with our nostrils, nor hear with our eyes, but that every of these parts hath his use and particular disposition, for the work which it is to accomplish.  
Before Hypocrates and Plato came into the world, it held for a general conceit amongst the natural Philosophers, that the heart was the principal part where the reasonable faculty made his residence, and the instrument wherewith the soul wrought the works of wisdom, of diligence, of memory, and of understanding. 
And therefore the heart and the things seated thereabouts have great feeling, but for all that are not partakers of knowledge: but of all these things the brain is causer.  For which cause, the divine scripture (applying itself to the ordinary speech of those times) in many places, calls the heart the sovereign part of a man. But these two grave Philosophers coming into the world, gave evidence that this opinion was false, and proved by many reasons and experiments, that the brain is the principal seat of the reasonable soul, and so they all gave hands to this opinion, save only Aristotle, who (with a purpose of crossing Plato in all points) turned to revive the former opinion, and with topical places to make it probable: with which of these opinions the truth swayeth, time serveth not now to discuss. For there is none of these Philosophers that doubteth, but that the brain is the instrument ordained by nature, to the end that man might become wise and skilful, it sufficeth only to declare with what conditions this part ought to be endued, so as we may affirm, that it is duly instrumentalized, and that a young man in this behalf may possess a good wit and ability.  
Four conditions the brain ought to enjoy, to the end the reasonable soul may therewith commodiously perform the works which appertain to understanding and wisdom. The first, good composition; the second, that his parts be well united; the third, that the heat exceed not the cold, nor the moist the dry; the fourth, that his substance be made of parts subtle and very delicate.  
In the good composition, are contained other four things: the first is, good figure: the second, quantity sufficient: the third, that in the brain the four ventricles be distinct and severed, each duly bestowed in his seat and place; the fourth, that the capableness of these be neither greater nor less than is convenient for their workings.  
Galen collects the good figure of the brain, by an outward consideration, namely the form and disposition of the head, which he saith, aught to be such, as it should be, if taking a perfect round ball of wax, and pressing it together somewhat on the sides, there will remain (after that manner) the forehead and the nape with a little bunchiness. Hence it follows that the man who hath his forehead very plain, and his niddick flat, hath not his brain so figured, as is requisite for wit and ability. The quantity of the brain, which the soul needeth to discourse & consider, is a matter that breeds fear, for amongst all the brute beasts, there is none found to have so much brain as a man, in sort, as if we join those of two the greatest oxen together, they will not equal that of one only man, be he never so little. And that whereto behooves more consideration, is, that amongst brute beasts, those who approach nearest to man's wisdom and discretion (as the ape, the fox, and the dog,) have a greater quantity of brain than the other, though bigger bodied than they. For which cause, Galen said, that a little head in any man is ever faulty, because that it wanteth brain; notwithstanding, I avouch that if his having a great head, proceedeth from abundance of matter, and ill tempered, at such time as the same was shaped by nature, it is an evil token, for the same consists all of bones and flesh, and contains a small quantity of brain, as it befalls in very big oranges, which opened, are found scarce of juice, and hard of rind. Nothing offends the reasonable soul so much, 
There are two sorts of fat men, the one full of flesh, bones, and blood: the other replenished with fat, and these are very witty.  as to make his abode in a body surcharged with bones, fat, and flesh. For which cause Plato said, that wise men's heads are ordinarily weak, and upon any occasion are easily annoyed, and the reason is, for that nature made them of an empty skull, with intention not to offend the wit, by compassing it with much matter. And this doctrine of Plato is so true, that albeit the stomach abides so far distant from the brain, yet the same works it offence, when it is replenished with fat and flesh. For confirmation hereof, Galen allegeth a proverb which saith, A gross belly makes a gross understanding, and that this proceeds from nothing else, than that the brain and the stomach are united and chained together with certain sinews, by way of which they interchangeably communicate their damages. And contrariwise, when the stomach is dry and shrunk, it affords great aid to the wit, as we see in the hunger-starved, and such as are driven to their shifts, on which doctrine (it may be) Persius founded himself, when he said, That the belly is that which quickens up the wit. But the thing most pertinent to be noted for this purpose, is, that if the other parts of the body be fat and fleshy, and therethrough a man grows over gross, Aristotle says, It makes him to lose his wit. For which cause, I am of opinion, that if a man have a great head, albeit the same proceed for that he is endued with a very able nature, and that he is furnished with a quantity of well tempered matter, yet he shall not be owner of so good a wit, as if the same held a meaner size.  
Aristotle is of a contrary opinion, whilst he inquires for what cause a man is the wisest of all living creatures; to which doubt he answers, That you shall find no creature which hath so little a head as man, respecting withal the greatness of his body: but herein he swerved from reason, for if he had opened some man's head, and viewed the quantity of his brain, he should have found, that two horses together had not so much brain as that one man. That which I have gathered by experience is, that in little men it is best that the head incline somewhat to greatness; and in those who are big bodied, it proves best that they be little: and the reason is, for that after this sort, there is found a measurable quantity, with which the reasonable soul may well perform his working.  
Besides this, there are needful the four ventricles in the brain, to the end the reasonable soul may discourse and Philosophise: one must be placed on the right side of the brain, the second on the left, the third in the middle of these, and the fourth in the part behind the brain. Whereunto these ventricles serve, and their large or narrow capableness for the reasonable soul, all shall be told by us a little hereafter, when we shall entreat of the diversities of men's wits.  
But it sufficeth not, that the brain possess good figure, sufficient quantity, and the number of ventricles, by us forementioned, with their capableness, great or little, but it behooves also that his parts holds a certain kind of continuedness, and that they be not divided. For which cause, we have seen in hurts of the head, that some men have lost their memory, some their understanding, and others their imagination: and put case, that after they have recovered their health, the brain reunited itself again, yet this notwithstanding, the natural union was not made, which the brain before possessed.  
The third condition of the fourth principal, was, that the brain should be tempered with measurable heat, and without excess of the other qualities, which disposition, we said heretofore that it is called good nature; for it is that which principally makes a man able, and the contrary unable.  
But the fourth, (namely that the brain have his substance or composition of subtle and delicate parts) Galen saith, is the most important of all the rest. For when he would give a token of the good disposition of the brain, he affirmeth, that a subtle wit, showeth that the brain is framed of subtle and very delicate parts, and if the understanding be dull, it gives evidence of a gross substance, but he makes no mention of the temperature. These conditions the brain ought to be endued withal, to the end the reasonable soul may therethrough shape his reasons and syllogisms. But here encounters us a difficulty very great, and this is, that if we open the head of any beast, we shall find his brain composed with the same form and manner, as a man's, without that any of the fore-reported conditions will be failing. Whence we gather that the brute beasts have also the use of Prudence and reason, by means of the composition of their brain, or else that our reasonable soul serves not itself of this member, for the use of his operations; which may not be avouched. To this doubt, Galen answereth in this manner: Amongst the kinds of beasts, it is doubted, whether that which is termed unreasonable, be altogether void of reason, or not. For albeit the same want that which consists in voice (which is named speech) yet that which is conceived in the soul, and termed discourse, of this it may be, that all sorts of beasts are partakers, albeit the same is bestowed more sparingly upon some, and more largely on other some. But verily, how far man in the way of reason outgoeth all the rest, there is none who maketh question. By these words, Galen gives us to understand (albeit with some fearfulness) that brute beasts do partake reason, one more, and another less, and in their mind do frame some syllogisms and discourses, though they cannot utter them by way of speech. And then the difference between them and man consisteth in being more reasonable, and in using Prudence with greater perfection.  
The same Galen proves also by many reasons and experiments, that Asses (being of all brute beasts the bluntest) do arrive with their wit to the most curious and nice points, which were devised by Plato and Aristotle, and there on he collects saying. I am therefore so far from praising the ancient Philosophers, in that they have found out some ample matter and of rare invention, (as when they say, We must hold that there is self, and divers: one, and not one: not only in number, but also in kind:) as I dare boldly affirm, that even the very Asses (who notwithstanding seem most blockish of all beasts) have this from nature.  
This self same meant Aristotle, when he inquired the cause, Why man amongst all living creatures is wisest: and in another place he turns to doubt, For what cause man is the most unjust of all living creatures: in which he gives us to understand the self same which Galen said, That the difference which is found between man and brute beast, is the self same which is found between a fool and a wise man; which is nought else than in respect of the more and the less. This (truly) is not to be doubted, that brute beasts enjoy memory and imagination, and another power which resembles understanding, as the Ape is very like a man, and that his soul takes use of the composition of the brain, it is a matter apparent: which being good, and such as is behoveful, performs his works very well, and with much prudence, and if the brain be ill instrumentalized, it executes the same untowardly. For which cause we see that there be asses, which in their knowledge are properly such: and others again are found so quick conceited and malicious, that they pass the property of their kind. And amongst horses are found many jadishnesses, and good qualities, and some there are more trainable than the rest: all which grows from having their brain well or ill instrumentalized. The reason and solution of this doubt, shall be placed in the chapter which followeth, for there we return to reason anew of this matter.  
There are in the body some other parts, from whose temperature, as well the wit as the brain depend; of which we will reason in the last chapter of this work. But besides these and the brain, there is found in the body another substance, whose service the reasonable soul useth in his operations, and so requireth the three last qualities which we have assigned to the brain, that is, quantity sufficient, delicate substance, and good temperature. These are the vital spirits, and arterial blood, which go wandering through the whole body, and remain evermore united to the imagination, following his contemplation. The office of this spiritual substance is, to stir up the powers of man, and to give them force and vigour that they may be able to work. This shall evidently be known to be their manner, if we take consideration of the motions, of the imaginations, and of that which after succeeds in working. For if a man begin to imagine upon any injury that hath been proffered him, the blood of the arteries runs suddenly to the heart, and stirs up the wrathful part, and gives the same heat and forces for revenge.  
If a man stand contemplating any fair woman, or stay in giving & receiving by that imagination touching the venereous act, these vital spirits run forthwith to the genital members, and raise them to the performance. The like befalls when we remember any delicate and savoury meat, which once called to mind, they strait abandon the rest of the body, and fly to the stomach and replenish the mouth with water. And this their motion is so swift, that if a woman with child long for any meat whatsoever, and still retain the same in her imagination, we see by experience, that she looseth her burden if speedily it be not yielded unto her. The natural reason of this, is, because these vital spirits, before the woman conceived this longing, made abode in the belly, helping her there to retain the creature, and through this new imagination of eating, they hie to the stomach to raise the appetite, and in this space, if the belly have no strong retentive, it cannot sustain the same, and so by this means she loseth her burden.  
Galen understanding this condition of the vital spirits, counseleth Physicians that they give not sick folk to eat, when their humours are raw and upon digestion, for when they first feel the meat in the stomach, they straightways abandon the work about which before they were occupied, and come thereunto to help it. The like benefit and aid, the brain receives of these vital spirits, when the reasonable soul is about to contemplate, understand, imagine, or perform actions of memory, without which it cannot work. And like as the gross substance of the brain and his evil temperature brings the wit to confusion: so the vital spirits, and the arterial blood (not being delicate and of good temperature) hinder in a man his discourse and use of reason. Wherefore Plato said, That the suppleness and good temperature of the heart, makes the wit sharp and quick-sighted. Having proved before that the brain and not the heart, is the principal seat of the reasonable soul. And the reason is, because these vital spirits are engendered in the heart, and partake of that substance and that temperature, which rested in that which form them. Of this arterial blood, Aristotle meant when he said, That those men are well compounded who have their blood hot, delicate, and pure; for they are also of good bodily forces, and of a wit well disposed. These vital spirits are by the Physicians termed Nature, for they are the principal instrument with which the reasonable soul performeth his works, and of these also may that sentence be verified, Nature makes able.   

CHAP. FOUR  
It is proved that the soul vegetative, sensitive, and reasonable, have knowledge without that any thing be taught them, if so be that they possess that convenient temperature, which is requisite for their operation.  
THe temperature of the four first qualities) which we heretofore termed Nature) hath so great force, to cause that (of plants, brute beasts, and man) each one set himself to perform those works which are properto his kind, that they arrive to that utmost bound of perfection which may be attained, suddenly & without any others teaching them; the plants know how to form roots under ground, and by way of them to draw nourishment to retain it, to digest it, and to drive forth the excrements: and the brute beasts likewise so soon as they are borne, know that which is agreeable to their nature, and fly the things which are naughty and noisome. And that which makes them most to marvel who are not seen in natural Philosophy, is, that a man having his brain well tempered, and of that disposition which is requisite for this or that science, suddenly and without having ever learned it of any, he speaketh and uttereth such exquisite matters, as could hardly win credit. Vulgar Philosophers, seeing the marvelous works which brute beasts perform, affirm it holds no cause of marvel, because they do it by natural instinct, in as much as nature showeth and teacheth each in his kind what he is to do. And in this they say very well, for we have already alleged and proved, that nature is nothing else than this temperature of the four first qualities, and that this is the schoolmaster who teacheth the souls in what sort they are to work: but they term instinct of nature a certain mass of things, which rise from the niddick upward, neither could they ever expound or give us to understand, what it is. The grave Philosophers (as Hypocrates, Plato and Aristotle) attribute all these marvelous works to heat, cold, moisture, and drought, and this they affirm of the first principle, and pass no farther. And if you ask who hath taught the brute beasts to do these works, (which breed us such marvel) and men to discourse with reason; Hypocrates answereth, It is the natures of them all without any teacher: as if he should say, The faculties or the temperature of which they consist, are all given them without being taught by any other. Which is clearly discerned, if they pass on to consider the works of the soul vegetative, and of all the rest which govern man, who if it have a quantity of man's seed, well digested and seasoned with good temperature, makes a body so seemly and duly instrumentalized, that all the carvers in the world cannot shape the like.  
For which cause Galen wondering to see a frame so marvelous, the number of his several parts, the seating, the figure, and the use of each one by itself, grew to conclude, it was not possible that the vegetative soul, nor the temperature, could fashion a workmanship so singular, but that the author thereof was God, or some other most wise understanding. But this manner of speech is already by us heretofore refuted: for it beseems not natural Philosophers to reduce the effects immediately to God, and so to slip over the assigning of the second reasons, and especially in this case, where we see by experience, that if man's seed consist of an evil substance, and enjoy not a temperature convenient, the vegetative soul runs into a thousand disorders: for if the same be cold and moist more than is requisite, Hypocrates saith, that the men prove eunuchs, or Hermofrodites; and if it be very hot and dry, Aristotle saith, that it makes them curl-pated, crooke-legged, and flat nosed as are the Aethiopians, and if it be moist, the same Galen saith, that they grow long and lithy: and if it be dry, low of stature. All this is a great defect in mankind, and for such works we find little cause to give nature any commendation, or to hold her for advised; and if God were the author hereof, none of these qualities could divert him. Only the first men which the world possessed, Plato affirms were made by God, but the rest were borne answerable to the discourse of the second causes, which if they be well ordered, the vegetative soul doth well perform his operations: and if they concur not in sort convenient, it produceth a thousand damageable effects.  
What the good order of nature for this effect must be, is, that the vegetative soul have an endowment of a good temperature, or else, let Galen and all the Philosophers in the world answer me, what the cause is that the vegetative soul possesseth such skill and power in the first age of man to shape his body, and to increase and nourish the same, and when old age groweth on, can yield the same no longer. For if an old man lose but a tooth, he is past remedy of recovering another, but if a child cast them all, we see that nature's return to renew them again. Is it then possible that a soul which hath done nought else in all the course of life, than to receive food, retain the same, digest it, and expel the excrements, new begetting the parts which fail, should towards the end of life forget this, and want ability to do the same any longer? Galen (for certain) will answer, that this skill and ability of the vegetative soul in youth, springs from his possessing much natural heat and moisture, and that in age the same wants skill and power to perform it, by means of the coldness and dryness, to which a body of those years is subject. The knowledge of the sensitive soul, takes his dependence also from the temperature of the brain, for if the same be such as his operations require that it should be, it can perform with due perfection; otherwise, the same must also err no less than the soul vegetative. The manner which Galen held to behold and discern by eyesight the wisdom of the sensitive soul, was to take a young kid, but newly kidded, which set on the ground, gins to go (as if it had been told and taught that his legs were made to that purpose) and after that, he shakes from his back the superfluous moisture which he brought with him from his mother's belly, and lifting up the one foot, scrapes behind his ear; and setting before him sundry platters with wine, water, vinegar, oil, and milk, after he hath smelled them all, he fed only on that of milk. Which being beheld by divers Philosophers there present, they all with one voice cried out, That Hypocrates had great reason to say, that souls were skilful without the instruction of any teacher. But Galen held not himself contented with this one proof, for two months after he caused the same kid, being very hungry, to be brought into the field, where smelling at many herbs, he did eat only those, whereon goats accustomably feed.  
But if Galen, as he set himself to contemplate the demeanour of this kid, had done the like with three or four together, he should have seen some gone better than other some, shrug themselves better, scratch better, and perform better all the other actions which we have recounted. And if Galen had reared two colts, bred of one horse and mare, he should have seen the one to pace with more grace than the other, and to gallop and stop better, and show more fidelity. And if he had taken an airy of Falcons, and manned them, he should have found the first good of wing, the second good of prey, and the third ravening and ill conditioned. The like shall we find in hounds, who being whelps of the same litter, the one for perfection of hunting, will seem to want but speech, and the other have no more inclination thereunto, than if he had been engendered by a herdsman's bandog.  
All this cannot be reduced to those vain instincts of nature; which the Philosophers feign. For if you ask for what cause one dog hath more instinct than another, both coming of one kind, and whelps of one sire, I cannot conjecture what they may answer, save to fly back to their old leaning post, saying, That God hath taught the one better than the other, and given him a more natural instinct. And if we demand the reason, why this good hound, being yet but a whelp, is a perfect hunter, and growing in age, hath no such sufficiency: and contrariwise, another being young cannot hunt at all, and waxing old, is wily and ready; I know not what they can yield in reply. Myself at least would say, that the towardly hunting of one dog more than an other, grows from the better temperature of his brain: and again, that his well hunting whilst he is young, and his decay in age, is occasioned by means that in one age he partakes the temperature which is requisite to the qualities of hunting, and in the other not. Whence we infer, that sithence the temperature of the four first qualities is the reason and cause, for which one brute beast better performs the works of his kind than another, that this temperature is the schoolmaster which teacheth the sensitive soul what it is to do.  
And if Galen had considered the demeanour and voyages of the Ant, and noted his prudence, his mercy, his 
Go to the Ant, O sluggard, and consider his way and learn wisdom: who having no guide nor master, provides himself the summer of food, and in the time of harvest furnisheth himself of meat.  justice, and his government, he would have taken astonishment to see a beast so little endued with so great sageness, without the help of any master or teacher to instruct him. But the temperature which the ant hath in his brain, being known, and how aptly it is appropriated to wisdom, (as hereafter shall be shown) this wonderment will cease, and we shall conceive, that brute beasts with the temperature of their brain, and the phantasms which enter thereinto by the five senses, make such discourses, and partake those abilities, which 
A Falconer affirmed to me with an oath, that he had a ready Falcon for hawking, which grew buzzardly, for remedy whereof, he gave her a bottom di fuoto in the head, and she amended.  we do so note in them. And amongst beasts of one kind, he which is most schooleable and skilful, is such, because he hath his brain better tempered, and if through any occasion or infirmity, the temperature of his brain incur alteration, he will suddenly lose his skill and ability, as men also do.  
But now we are to treat of a difficulty touching the reasonable soul, which is, in what sort he hath this natural instinct for the operations of his kind, (namely Sapience, and Prudence) and how on the sudden, by means of his good temperature, a man can be skilled in the sciences, without the instruction of any other: seeing experience telleth us, that if they be not gotten by learning, no man is at his birth endued with them.  
Between Plato and Aristotle, there is a weighty question, as touching the verifying the reason or cause from whence the wisdom of man may spring. One saith, That the reasonable soul is more ancient than the body, for that before such time as Nature endowed the same with these instruments, it made abode in heaven, in the company of God, whence it issued full of science and sapience: but when it entered to form this matter, through the evil temperature which it found therein, it forewent the whole, until by process of time, this ill temperature grew to amendment, and there succeeded another in steed thereof, with which (as more appliable to the sciences it had lost) it grew by little and little to call that to remembrance which before it had forgotten. This opinion is false, and I much marvel that Plato being so great a Philosopher, could not render the 
Plato took out of the holy Scripture the best sentences which are to be found in his works, in respect whereof he was called Divine.  reason of man's wisdom, considering that brute beasts have their prudencies and natural abilities, without that their soul departs from their body, or sties up to heaven to learn them. In which regard he cannot go blameless, especially having red in Genesis (whereto he gave so great credit) that God instrumentalized the body of Adam, before he created his soul. The self-same befalls also now, save that it is nature who begets the body, and in the last disposing thereof, God createth the soul in the same body, without that it be sundered therefrom any time or moment.  
Aristotle took another course, affirming that every doctrine, and every discipline, comes from a foregoing knowledge, as if he would say, all that which men know and learn, springs from that they have heard the same, seen it, smelled it, tasted it, or felt it. For there can grow no notice in the understanding, which hath not first taken passage by some of the five senses. For which cause he said, that these powers issue out of the hands of nature, as a plain table in which is no manner of painting, which opinion is also false as well as that of Plato. But that we may the better prove and make the same apparent, it behooves first to agree with the vulgar Philosophers, that in man's body there rests but one soul, and that the same is reasonable, which is the original of whatsoever we do or effect: albeit there are opinions, and there want not, who against this defend, that in company of the reasonable soul, there are associated some two or three more. 
Plato attributes three souls unto man.   
This then standing thus in the works which the reasonable soul performs, as it is vegetative, we have already proved that the same knows how to shape man, and to give him the figure which he is to keep, and knows likewise how to receive nourishment, to retain it, to digest it, and to expel the excrements, and if any part of the body do fail, she knows how to supply the same a new, and yield it that composition agreeable to the use which it is to hold. And in the works of the sensitive and motive, the child so soon as it is borne, knows to suck, and fashion his lips to draw forth the milk, and this so readily, as not the wisest man can do the like. And herewithal, it assures the qualities which are incident to the preservation of his nature, shuns that which is noisome and damageable thereunto, knows to weep and laugh, without being taught by any. And if this be not so, let the vulgar Philosophers tell me awhile, who hath taught the children to do these 
Hypocrates answered better, saying: That nature is learned, though she have not learned to do well.  things, or by what sense they have learned it. Well I know they will answer, That God hath given them this natural instinct as to the brute beasts, wherein they say not ill, if the natural instinct be the self same with the temperature.  
The proper operations of the reasonable soul, namely, to understand, to imagine and to perform actions of memory, a man cannot do them forthwith so soon as he is borne, for the temperature of infancy serveth very unfitly therefore, and is merely appropriate to the vegetative and sensitive, as that of old age is appropriate to the reasonable soul, and contrary to the vegetative and sensitive. And if as the temperature which serves for prudence, is gotten in the brain by little and little, so the same could all be joined together at one instant, man should on the sudden have better skill to discourse and play the Philosopher, than if he had attained the same in the schools.  
But because nature cannot perform this save by process of time, a man grows to gather wisdom by little and little, and that this is the reason and cause thereof, is manifestly proved, if we consider, that a man after he hath been very wise, grows by little and little into folly, for that he daily goes (till his decrepit age) accrueing a contrary temperature. I for mine own part am of opinion, 
The seed and menstrual blood which are two material principles of which we be form, are hot & moist, through which temperature children are so unskilled.  that if nature, as she hath made man of seed hot and moist (and this is the temperature which directs the vegetative, and the sensitive, what they are to effectuate) so she had made him of seed cold and dry, even after his birth, he should straightways have been able to discourse and reason, and not have attended to suck, in as much as this is the temperature agreeable to these operations. But for that we find by experience, that if the brain have the temperature requisite for natural sciences, he hath no need of a master to teach him, it falls out necessary that we mark one thing, which is, that if a man fall into any disease, by which his brain upon a sudden changeth his temperature (as are madness, melancholy, & frenzy) it happens, that at one instant he loseth, if he were wise, all his knowledge, and utters a thousand follies; and if he were a fool, he accrues more wit and ability than he had before.  
I can speak of a rude country fellow, who becoming frantic, made a very eloquent discourse in my presence, recommending his well doing to the bystanders, 
When the brain is placed hot in the first degree, it makes a man eloquent, & furnisheth him with store of matter to deliver, for which cause the silent are always cold of brain, & great talkers hot  and that they should take care of his wife and children (if it pleased God to call him away in that sickness) with so many flowers of rhetoric, and such apt choice of words, as if Cicero had spoken in the presence of the Senate: whereat the beholders marveling, asked me whence so great eloquence and wisdom might grow, in a man who in his health time could scantly speak? and I remember I made answer, That the art of Oratory was a science, which springs from a certain point or degree of heat, and that this country fellow, before sound, had by means of this infirmity attained thereunto.  
I can also speak of another frantic person, who for the space of more than eight days, never uttered word which I found not to carry his just quantity, and mostly he made couplements of verses very well composed, 
This frenzy was occasioned by abundance of choler which took hold in the substance of the brain, which humour hath great congruence with Poetry, for which cause Horace said, That if summer did not make evacuation of choler, no Poet should pass before him.  whereat the by standers wondering to here a man speak in verse, who in his health had never so much skill; I said, It seldom fell out, that he who was a poet in his health time, should be so also in his sickness. For the temperature of the brain, by which when a man is whole, he becometh a Poet, in sickness altereth and brings forth contrary operations. I remember that the wife of this frantic fellow, and a sister of his, named Margaret, reproved him, because he spoke ill of the saints, whereat the patiented growing impatient said to his wife these words: I renounce God for the love of you; and S. Marry for the love of Margaret; and S. Peter for the love of john of Olmedo; and so he ran thorough a beadroll of many saints, whose names had consonance with the other bystanders there present.  
But this is nothing, and a matter of small importance in respect of the notable speeches, uttered by a Page of one of the great ones of this real me, whilst he was mad, who in his health was reputed a youth of slender capacity, but falling into this infirmity, he delivered such rare conceits, resemblances, and answers, to such as asked him, and devised so excellent manners of governing a kingdom (of which he imagined himself to be sovereign) that for great wonder people flocked to see him and hear him, and his very master scarcely ever departed from his bed's head, praying God that he might never be cured. Which afterwards plainly appeared, for being recovered, his Physician (who had healed him) came to take leave of his lord, with a mind to receive some good reward, if of nothing else, yet at least in good words; but he encountered this greeting: I promise you master doctor, that I was never more aggrieved at any ill success, than to see this my page recovered, for it was not behoveful that he should change so wise folly, for an understanding so simple as is this, which in his health he enjoyeth. Methinks that of one, who tofore was wise and well advised, you have made him a fool again, which is the greatest misery that may light upon any man. The poor Physician seeing how little thankfully his cure was accepted, went to take leave of the page, who amongst many other words that passed between them, told him this: Master doctor, I kiss your hands for so great a benefit bestowed on me, in restoring mine understanding, but I assure you on my faith, that in some sort, it displeaseth me to have been cured. For whilst I rested in my folly, I led my life in the deepest discourses of the world, and imagined myself to great a lord, as there reigned no king on the earth, who was not my vassal, and were this a jest or a lie, what imported that, 
This page was not yet perfectly cured.  whilst I conceived thereof so great a contentment, as if it had been true? I rest now in far worse case, finding myself in troth to be but a poor page, and to morrow I must begin again to serve one, who whilst I was in mine infirmity, I would have disdained for my footman.  
It skills not much, whether the Philosophers admit all this, and believe that it may be so or not; but what if I should prove by very true stories, that ignorant men strooken with this infirmity, have spoken Latin, which they never learned in their health; and that a frantic woman told all persons who came to visit her, their virtues and vices, and sometimes reported matters with that assurance, which they use to give who speak by conjectures and tokens: and for this cause, none almost durst come in to visit her, fearing to hear of those true tales which she would deliver? and (which is more to be marveled at) when a barber came to let her blood, Friend (quoth she) have regard what you do, for you have but few days to live, and your wife shall marry such a man: and this, though spoken by chance, fell out so true, as it took effect before half a year came to an end.  
Me thinks I hear them who fly natural Philosophy, to say that this is a foul leasing, & that (put case it were true) the devil as he is wise and crafty by God's sufferance, entered into this woman's body, and into the rest of those frantic persons, whom I have mentioned, and caused them to utter those strange matters, and yet even to confess this, they are very loath; for the devil foreknoweth not what is to come, because he hath no prophetical spirit. They hold it a very sufficient argument to avouch, This is false, because I cannot conceive how 
He speaks to one asleep who teacheth wisdom to a fool.  it may be so: as if difficult & acquaint matters were subject to blunt wits, and came within the reach of their capacities. I pretend not hereby to take those to task who have defect of understanding, for that were a bootless labour, but to make Aristotle himself confess, that men endowed with the temperature requisite for such operations, may conceive many things without having received thereof any particular perseverance, or learned the same at the hands of any other Sundry also, because this heat is a neighbour to the seat of the mind, are wrapped in the infirmity of sottishness, or are heated by some furious instinct, whence grew the Sibyls and Bacchants, and all those, who men think are egged on by some divine inspiration, whereas this takes his original, not from any disease, but from a natural distemperature. Marcus a citizen of Siracusa, was excellentest poet after he lost his understanding, and those in whom this abated heat approacheth least to mediocrity, are (verily) altogether melancholic, but thereby much the wiser. In these words Aristotle clearly confesseth, that when the brain is excessively heated, many thereby attain the knowledge of things to come, (as were the Sibyls) which Aristotle saith, grows not by reason of any disease, 
The Sibyls admitted by the catholic church, had this natural disposition that Aristotle speaks of, and besides a prophetical spirit which God powered into them, for natural wit sufficed not for so high a point, werethe same never so perfect.  but thorough the inequality of the natural heat, and that this is the very reason and cause thereof, he proves apparently by an example; alleging that Mark a citizen of Siracuse, was a Poet in most excellency at such time as through excessive heat of the brain he fell beside himself, and when he returned to a more moderate temperature, he lost his versifying, but yet remained more wise and advised. In so much that Aristotle not only admits the temperature of the brain, for the principal occasion of these extravagant successes, but also reproves them who hold the same for a divine revelation, and no natural cause.  
The first who termed these marvelous matters by the name of divineness, was Hypocrates, and that if any such point of divineness be found in the disease, that it 
When the diseased divine thus, it is a token that the reasonable soul is now awearie of the body, and so none such recover.  manifesteth also a providence. Upon which sentence, he chargeth Physicians that if the diseased utter any such divine matters, they may thereby know in what case she rests, and prognosticate what will become of him. But that which in this behalf drives me to most wonder, is, that demanding of Plato how it may come to pass, that of two sons begotten by one father, one hath the skill of versifying, without any other teaching, and the other, toiling in the art of poetry, can never beget so much as one verse? he answereth, That he who was borne a Poet, is possessed, and the other not. In which behalf, Aristotle had good cause to find fault with him, for that he might have reduced this to the temperature, as else where he did.  
The frantic persons speaking of Latin, without that he ever learned the same in his health time, shows the consonance which the Latin tongue holds with the reasonable soul, and (as we will prove hereafter) there is to be found a particular wit, appliable to the invention of languages, and Latin words, & the phrases of speech in that tongue are so fitting with the ear, that the reasonable soul possessing the necessary temperature for the invention of some delicate language, suddenly encounters with this. And that two devisers of languages may shape the like words (having the like wit and ability) it is very manifest, presupposing that when God created Adam, and set all things before him, to the end he might bestow on each his several name, whereby it should be called, he had likewise at that instant moulded another man with the same perfection and supernatural grace; now I demand, if God had placed the same things before this other man, that he might also set them names whereby they should be called, of what manner those names should have been? for mine own part, I make no doubt, but he would have given these things, those very names which Adam did: and the reason is very apparent, for both carried one self eye to the nature of each thing, which of itself was no more but one. After this manner might the frantic person light upon the Latin tongue, and speak the same without ever having learned it in his health, for the natural temperature of his brain, conceiving alteration, through the infirmity it might (for a space) become like his, who first invented the Latin tongue, and feign the like words, but yet not with that concert and continued fineness, for this would give token that the devil moved that tongue, as the church teacheth her exorcists. This self (saith Aristotle) befell some children, who at their birth-time spoke some words very plainly, and afterward kept silence, and he finds fault with the vulgar Philosophers of his time, who for that they knew not the natural cause of this effect, imputed it to the devil.  
The cause why children speak so soon as they are borne, and after forthwith turn to hold their peace, Aristotle could never find out though he went much about it, but yet it could never sink into his brain, that it was a devise of the devils, nor an effect above nature, as the vulgar Philosophers held opinion; who seeing themselves hedged in with the curious and nice points of natural Philosophy, make them believe who know little, that God or the devil are authors of the prodigious and strange effects, of whose natural cause they have no knowledge and understanding.  
Children which are engendered of seed cold and dry, (as are those begotten in old age) some few days and months after their birth, begin to discourse and philosophise; for the temperature cold and dry, (as we will hereafter prove) is most appropriate to the operations of the reasonable soul, and that which process of time, and many days and months should bring about, is supplied by the present temperature of the brain, which for many causes anticipateth what it was to effect. Other children there are (saith Aristotle) who as soon as they are borne, begin to speak, and afterwards hold their peace until they attain the ordinary and convenient age of speaking: which effect floweth from the same original and cause that we recounted of the page, and of those furious and frantic persons, and of him who spoke Latin on a sudden without having learned it in his health. And that children whilst they make abode in their mother's belly, and so soon as they are borne, may undergo these infirmities, is a matter past denial. But whence that divining of the frantic woman proceeded, I can better make Cicero to conceive, than these natural Philosophers, for he describing the nature of man, said in this manner: The creature foresightful, 
Those who have been crazed, and are called melancholic, have their mind endued with a certain spice of prophesying and divining.  searchfull, apt for many matters, sharp conceited, mindful, replenished with reason and counsel, whom we call by the name of man.. And in particular he affirmeth that there is found a certain nature in some men, which in foreknowing things to come, exceedeth other men's, and his words are these: For there is found a certain force and nature, which foretells things to come, the force and nature of which, is not by reason to be unfolded. The error of the natural Philosophers consisteth, in not considering (as Plato did) that man was made to the likeness of God, and that he is a partaker of his divine providence, and that the power of discerning all the three differences of time, (memory for the passed, conceiving for the present, and imagination and understanding for those that are to come.) And as there are men superior to others in remembering things past, and others in knowing the present, so there are also many, who partake a more natural ability for imagining of what shall come to pass. One of the greatest arguments which forced Cicero to think, that the reasonable soul is uncorruptible, was to see the certainty with which the diseased tell things to come, and especially when they are near their end. But the difference which rests between a prophetical spirit and this natural wit, is, that that which God speaks by the mouth of his prophets, is infallible, for it is the express word of God: but that which man prognosticateth by the power of his imagination holds no such certainty.  
Those who say, that the discovering of their virtues and vices by the frantic woman, to the persons who came to visit her, was a trick of the devils playing; let them know, that God bestows on men a certain supernatural grace, to attain and conceive which are the works of God, and which of the devil: the which saint Paul placeth amongst the divine gifts, and calls it, The imparting of spirits. Whereby we may discern whether it be the devil or some good angel that intermeddleth with us. For many times the devil sets to beguile us under the cloak of a good angel, and we have need of this grace and supernatural gift, to know him, and difference him from the good. From this gift they are farthest sundered, who have not a wit capable of natural Philosophy: for this science, and that supernatural infused by God, fall under one self ability, to weet, the understanding at least; if it be true, that God in bestowing his graces, do apply himself to the natural good of every one, as I have afore rehearsed.  
jacob lying at the point of death, (at which time the reasonable soul is most at liberty, to see what is to come) all his twelve children entered to visit him, and he to each of them in particular, recited their virtues and vices, and prophesied what should befall, as touching them and their posterity. Certain it is, that he did all this inspired by God, but if the divine scripture, and our faith, had not ascertained us hereof, how would these natural Philosophers have known this to be the work of God: and that the virtues and vices which the frantic woman told to such as came to visit her, were discovered by the power of the devil, whilst this case in part resembles that of jacob?  
They reckon that the nature of the reasonable soul, is far different from that of the devil, and that the powers thereof (understanding, imagination, and memory,) are of another very divers kind, and herein they be deceived. For if a reasonable soul inform a well instrumentalized body (as was that of Adam) his knowledge comes little behind that of the subtilest devil, and without the body he partakes as perfect qualities as the other. And if the devils foresee things to come, conjecturing and discoursing by certain tokens, the same also may a reasonable man do when he is about to be freed from his body, or when he is endowed with that difference of temperature, which makes a man capable of this providence. For it is a matter as difficult for the understanding to conceive how the devil can know these hidden things, as to impute the same to the reasonable soul. It will not fall in these men's heads, that in natural things there may be found out certain signs, by means of which they may attain to the knowledge of matters to come. And I affirm, there are certain tokens to be found, which bring us to the notice of things passed and present, and to forecast what is to follow, yea & to conjecture some secrets of the heaven, Therefore we see that his things invisible are understood by the creatures of the world, by means of the things which have been created. Whosoever shall have power to accomplish this, shall attain thereunto, and the other shall be such as Homer spoke of, The ignorant understandeth the things passed, but not the things to come. But the wise and discreet is the Ape of God, for he imitates him in many matters, and albeit he cannot accomplish them with so great perfection, yet he carries some resemblance unto him, by following him.   

CHAP. V.  
It is proved that from the three qualities, hot, moist, and dry, proceed all the differences of men's wits.  
THe reasonable soul making abode in the body, it is impossible that the same can perform contrary and different operations, if for each of them it use not a particular instrument. This is plainly seen in the power of the soul, which performeth divers operations in the outward senses, for every one hath his particular composition: the eyes have one, the ears another, the smelling another, and the feeling another; and if it were not so, there should be no more but one sort of operations, and that should all be seeing, tasting, or feeling, for the instrument determines & rules the power for one action, and for no more.  
By this so plain and manifest a matter, which passeth through the outward senses, we may gather what that is in the inward. With this self power of the soul, we understand, imagine, and remember. But if it be true, that every work requires a particular instrument, it behoveth of necessity, that within the brain there be one instrument for the understanding, one for the imagination, and another different from them for the memory: for if all the brain were instrumentalized after one self manner, either the whole should be memory, or the whole understanding, or the whole imagination. But we see that these are very different operations, and therefore it is of force that there be also a variety in the instruments. But if we open by skill, and make an anatomy of the brain, we shall find the whole compounded after one manner, of one kind of substance, and alike, without parts of other kinds, or a different sort; only there appear four little hollownesses, who (if we well mark them) have all one self composition and figure, without any thing coming between which may breed a difference.  
What the use and profit of these may be, and whereto they serve in the head, is not easily decideable: for Galen and the Anatomists, as well new as ancient, have laboured to find out the truth, but none of them hath precisely nor in particular, expressed whereto the right ventricle serveth, nor the left, nor that which is placed in the midst of these two, nor the fourth, whose seat in the brain keeps the hinder part of the head. They affirm, only (though with some doubt) that these four concavities, are the shops where the vital spirits are digested, and converted into animals, so to give sense and motion to all the parts of the body. In which operation, Galen said once, that the middle ventricle was the principal, and in another place he unsayes it again, affirming that the hindermost is of greatest efficacy and valour.  
But this doctrine is not true, nor founded on good natural Philosophy, for in all man's body, there are not two so contrary operations, nor that so much hinder one another, as are discoursing, and digestion of nourishment: and the reason is, because contemplation requireth quiet, rest, and a clearness in the animal spirits; and digestion is performed with great stirring and travail, & from this action rise up many vapours, which trouble and darken the animal spirits, so as by means of them, the reasonable soul cannot discern the figures. And nature was not so unadvised, as in one self place to conjoin two actions which are performed with so great repugnancy. But Plato highly commends the wisdom and knowledge of him who shaped us, for that he severed the liver from the brain by so great a distance, to the end, that by the rumbling there made, whilst the nourishments are mingled, and by the obscureness and darkness occasioned through the vapours in the animal spirits, the reasonable soul might not be troubled in his discourses and considerations. But though Plato had not touched this point of Philosophy, we see hourly by experience, that because the liver and the stomach are so far from the brain, presently upon meat, and some space thereafter, there is no man that can give himself to study.  
The truth of this matter is, that the fourth ventricle hath the office of digesting and altering the vital spirits, and to convert them into animal, for that end which we have before remembered. And therefore nature hath severed the same by so great a distance from the other three, and made that brain sundered apart, and so far off (as appeareth) to the end, that by his operation, he hinder not the contemplation of the rest. The three ventricles placed in the forepart, I doubt not, but that nature made them to none other end than to discourse and philosophise. Which is apparently proved, for that in great studyings and contemplations, always that part of the head finds itself aggrieved, which answereth these three concavities. The force of this argument is to be known, by consideration, that when the other powers are weary of performing their works, the instruments are always aggrieved, whose service they used; as in our much looking, the eyes are pained; and with much going, the souls of the feet wax sore.  
Now the difficulty consists, to know in which of these ventricles the understanding is placed, in which the memory, and in which the imagination, for they are so united and near neighboured, that neither by the last argument, nor by any other notice, they can be distinguished or discerned. Then considering that the understanding cannot work without the memory be present, 
Aristotle in his third book of the soul.  representing unto the same the figures and fantasies agreeable thereunto, it behoveth that the understanding part busy itself in beholding the phantasms, and that the memory cannot do it, if the imagination do not accompany the same (as we have already heretofore declared) we shall easily understand, that all the powers are united in every several ventricle, and that the understanding is not solely in the one, nor the memory solely in the other, nor the imagination in the third, as the vulgar Philosophers have imagined, but that this union of powers is accustomably made in man's body, in as much as the one cannot work without the aid of the other, as appeareth in the four natural abilities, digestive, retentive, attractive, and expulsive, where, because each one stands in need of all the residue, nature disposed to unite them in one self place, and made them not divided or sundered.  
But if this be true, then to what end made nature those three ventricles, and joined together the three reasonable powers in every of them, seeing that one alone sufficed to understand and to perform the actions of memory? To this may be answered, that there riseth a like difficulty, in scanning whence it cometh that nature made two eyes, and two ears, sithence in each of them is placed the whole power of sight and hearing, and we can see, having but one eye? Whereto may be said, that the powers ordained for the perfection of a creature, how much the greater number they carry, so much the better assured is that their perfection, for upon some occasion, one or two may fail, and therefore it serves well to the purpose, that there remain some others of the same kind, which may be applied to use.  
In an infirmity which the physicians term Resolution, or Palsy of the middle side, the operation is ordinarily lost of that ventricle which is strooken on that side, & if the other two remained not sound, & without endamageance, a man should thereby become witless, and void of reason And yet for all this, by wanting that only ventricle, there is a great abatement discerned in his operations, as well in those of the understanding, as of the imaginative, and memory, as they shall also find in the loss of one sight, who were wont to behold with two; whereby we clearly comprise, that in every ventricle are all the three powers, sithence by the annoyance of any one, all the three are weakened. Seeing then all the three ventricles are of one self composition, and that there rests not amongst them any variety of parts, we may not leave to take the first qualities for an instrument, and to make so many general differences of wits, as they are in number. For to think that the reasonable soul being in the body, can work without some bodily instrument to assist her, is against all natural Philosophy. But of the four qualities, heat, cold, moisture, and drought: all Physicians leave out cold, as unprofitable to any operation of the reasonable soul, wherethrough it is seen by experience in the other abilities, that if the same mount above heat, all the powers of man do badly perform their operations, neither can the stomach digest his meat, nor the cod yield fruitful seed, nor the muscles move the body, nor the brain discourse. For which cause, Galen said, Coldness is apparently noisome to all the offices of the soul; as if he should say, Cold is the ruin of all the operations of the soul, only it serves in the body to temper the natural heat, and to procure that it burn not overmuch: and yet Aristotle is of a contrary opinion, where he affirmeth, it is a matter certain, that that blood carrieth most forcible efficacy, which is thickest and hottest, but the coldest & thinnest hath a more accomplished force to perceive and understand; as if he would say, the thick and hot blood makes great bodily forces, but the pure and cold is cause that man possesseth great understanding. Whereby we plainly see, that from coldness springeth the greatest difference of wit that is in any man, namely in the understanding.  
Aristotle moreover moves a doubt, and that is, why men who inhabit very hot countries (as Egypt) are more witty and advised than those who are borne in cold regions. Which doubt he resolves in this manner: That the excessive heat of the country fretteth and consumeth the natural heat of the brain, and so leaves it cold, whereby man grows to be full of reasonableness. And that contrariwise, the much cold of the air, fortifieth the much natural heat of the brain, and yields it not place to resolve. For which cause (saith he) such as are very hot brained, cannot discourse nor philosophise, but are giddy headed, and not settled in any one opinion. To which opinion it seems that Galen leaneth, saying that the cause why a man is unstable, and changeth opinion at every moment, is, for that he hath a hot brain: and contrariwise, his being stable and firm, springs from the coldness of his brain. But the truth is, that from this heat there groweth not any difference of wit, neither did Aristotle mean that the cold blood, by his predominance, did better the understanding, but that which is less hot. True it is, that man's variableness springs from his partaking of much heat, which lifts up the figures that are in the brain, and makes them to boil, by which operation, there are represented to the soul many images of things, which invite him to their contemplation, and the soul to possess them all, leaves one and takes another. Contrariwise it befalls in coldness, which for that it imprints inwardly these figures, and suffers them not to rise, makes a man firm in one opinion, and it proves so, because none other presents itself to call the same away. Coldness hath this quality, that it not only hindereth the motions of bodily things, but also makes that the figures and shapes which the Philosophers call spiritual, be unmovable in the brain. And this firmness seemeth rather a negligence, than a difference of ability. Alike true it is, that there is found another diversity of firmness, which proceeds from possessing an understanding well compacted together, & not from the coldness of the brain. So there remain drought, moisture, and heat for the service of the reasonable faculty. But no Philosopher as yet witted to give to every difference of wit determinately that which was his. Heraclitus said, A dry brightness makes a most wise mind: by which sentence he gives us to understand, that dryness is the cause why a man becomes very wise, but he declares not in what kind of knowledge.  
The self same meant Plato, when he said, that the soul descended into the body endowed with great wisdom, and through the much moisture which it there found, grew to become dull & untoward. But this wearing away in the course of age, and purchasing dryness, the soul grew to discover the knowledge which he tofore enjoyed. Amongst brute beasts, saith Aristotle, those are wisest whose temperature is most inclined to cold and dry, as are the ants and bees, who for wisdom, concur with those men that partake most of reason. Moreover, no brute beast is found of more moisture, or less wit than a hog, wherethrough the Poet Pindare, to 
Horace, to say that Ulysses became not a fool, figured him, that he was not turned into a hog.  gibe at the people of Beotia, and to handle them as fools, said thus:  th'untoward folk which now is named Beotia, were once called Hogs. 
Moreover, blood through his much moisture, saith Galen, makes men simple. And for such, the same Galen recounts that the Comic_strips jested at Hypocrates children, saying of them, That they had much natural heat, which is a substance moist and very vaporous. This is ordinarily incident to the children of wise men, & hereafter I will make report of the cause whence it groweth. Amongst the four humours which we enjoy, there is none so cold and dry as that of melancholy, and whatsoever notable men for learning, have lived in the world (saith Aristotle) they were all melancholic. Finally, all agree in this point, that dryness makes a man very wise, but they express not to which of the reasonable powers it affordeth greatest help; only Esay the Prophet calls it by his right name, where he saith, That travail gives understanding: for sadness and affliction not only diminisheth & consumeth the moisture of the brain, but also drieth up the bones, with which quality, the understanding groweth more sharp & sightfull. Whereof we may gather an example very manifest by taking into consideration many men, who cast into poverty and affliction, have therethrough uttered and written sentences worth the marveling at, and afterwards rising to better fortune, to eat and drink well, would never once open their mouths. For a delicious life, contentment, and good success, and to see that all things fall out after our liking, looseneth and maketh the brain moist. And this is it which Hypocrates said, Mirth looseneth the heart, as if he would have said, That the same enlargeth and giveth it heat and grossness.  
And the same may easily be proved another way, for if sadness and affliction dry up and consume the flesh, and for that reason, man gaineth more understanding, it falls out a matter certain, that his contrary, namely 
The heart of wise men is where there is sadness, and the heart of fools where there is mirth.  mirth, will make the brain moist, and diminish the understanding. Such as have purchased this manner of wit, are suddenly inclined to pastimes, to music, and to pleasant conversations, and fly the contrary, which at other times gave them a relish and contentment. Now by this, the vulgar sort may conceive whence it grows, that a wise and virtuous man attaining to some great dignity (whereas at first he was but poor & base) suddenly changeth his manners, and his fashion of speech: and the reason is, because he hath gotten a new temperature, moist and full of vapours, whence it follows that the figures are canceled which tofore he had in his brain, and his understanding dulled.  
From moisture, it is hard to know what difference of wit may spring, sithence it is so far contrary to the reasonable faculty. At least (after Galens' opinion) all the humours of our body, which hold overmuch moisture, make a man blockish and foolish, for which cause he said, The readiness of mind and wisdom grows from the humour of choler: the humour of melancholy is author of firmness and constancy; blood, of simplicity and dullness; the phlegmatic complexion availeth nothing to the polishing of man's. In so much that blood with his moistures, and the phlegm, cause an impairing of the reasonable faculty.  
But this is understood of the faculties or reasonable wits, which are discursive and active, and not of the passive, as is the memory, which depends as well on the moist, as the understanding doth on the dry. And we call memory a reasonable power, because without it, the understanding and the imaginative are of no valour. It 
Wherethrough Cicero defining the nature of wit, placeth memory in his definition: docility & Memory, which as it were by one name are termed wit.  ministereth matter and figures to them all, whereupon they may syllogise conformably to that which Aristotle saith, It behooves that the understander go beholding the phantasms; and the office of the memory is, to preserve these phantasms, to the end that the understanding may contemplate them, and if this be lost, it is impossible that the powers can work; and that the office of memory is none other, than to preserve the figures of things, without that it appertains thereto to devise them. Galen expresseth in these words, Memory (verily) lays up and preserveth in itself, the things known by the sense, and by the mind, & is therein as it were their storehouse and receiving place, and not their inventor. And if this be the use thereof, it falls out apparent, that the same dependeth on moisture; for this makes the brain pliant, and the figure is imprinted by way of straining. To prove this, we have an evident argument in boy's age, in which any one shall better con by heart, than in any other time of life, and then doth the brain partake greatest moisture. Whence Aristotle moveth this doubt, Why in old age we have better wit, and in young age we learn more readily? as if he should say, What is the cause, that when we are old we have much understanding, and when we are young we learn with more towardliness? Whereto he answereth, That the memory of old men is full of so many figures of things which they have seen and heard in the long course of their life, that when they would bestow more therein, it is not capable thereof, for it hath no void place where to receive it. But the memory of young folk, when they are newly borne, is full of plaits, and for this cause they receive readily whatsoever is told or taught them. And he makes this plainer, by comparing the memory of the morning with that of the evening, saying, That in the morning we learn best, because at that time our memory is empty, and at the evening illy, because than it is full of those things which we encountered during the day. To this Problem Aristotle witted not how to answer, and the reason is very plain, for if the spices and figures which are in the memory, had a body and quantity to occupy the place: it would seem that this were a fitting answer; but being undivided and spiritual, they cannot fill nor empty any place where they abide; yea we see by experience, that by how much more the memory is exercised every day receiving new figures, so much the more capable it becometh. The answer of this Problem is very evident after my doctrine, and the same importeth, that old men partake much understanding, because they have great dryness, and fail of memory, for that they have little moisture, and by this means the substance of the brain hardeneth, and so cannot receive the impression of the figures, as hard wax with difficulty admitteth the figure of the seal, and the soft with easiness. The contrary befalls in children, who through the much moisture wherewith the brain is endowed, fail in understanding, and through the great suppleness of their brain, abound in memory: wherein, by reason of the moisture, the shapes and figures that come from without, make a great, easy, deep, and well form impression.  
That the memory is better the morning than the evening, cannot be denied, but this springeth not from the occasion alleged by Aristotle, but the sleep of the night passed hath made the brain moist, and fortified the same, and by the waking of the whole day, it is dried and hardened. For which cause, Hypocrates affirmeth those who have great thirst at night, shall do well to drink, for sleep makes the flesh moist, and fortifieth all the powers which govern man. And that sleep so doth, Aristotle himself confesseth.  
By this doctrine is perfectly seen that the understanding and memory, are powers opposite and contrary, in sort, that the man who hath a great memory, shall find a defect in his understanding, and he who hath a great understanding cannot enjoy a good memory: for it is impossible that the brain should of his own nature, be at one self time dry and moist. On this maxim, Aristotle grounded himself, to prove, that memory is a power different from remembrance, and he frames his argument in this manner: Those who have much remembrance, are men of great understanding, and those who possess a great memory, find want of understanding; so than memory and remembrance are contrary powers. The former proposition, after my doctrine is false; for those who have much remembrance, are of little understanding, and have great imaginations, as soon hereafter I will prove: but the second proposition is very true, albet Aristotle knew not the cause, whereon was founded the enmity which the understanding hath with the memory.  
From heat, which is the third quality, groweth the imaginative, for there is no other reasonable power in the brain, nor any other quality to which it may be assigned besides that, the sciences which appertain to the imaginative, are those, which such utter as dote in their sickness, and not of those which appertain to the understanding, or to the memory. And frenzy, peevishness, and melancholy, being hot passions of the brain, it yields a great argument, to prove that imagination consists in heat. One thing breeds me a difficulty herein, and that is, that the imagination carrieth a contrariety to the understanding, as also to the memory, and the reason hereof is not to be gotten by experience, for in the brain may very well be united much heat and much dryness; and so likewise, much heat and much moisture, to a large quantity: and for this cause, a man may have a great understanding and a great imagination, & much memory with much imagination: and verily, it is a miracle to find a man of great imagination, who hath a good understanding, and a sound memory. And the cause thereof behooves to be, for that the understanding requires that the brain be made of parts very subtle and delicate, as we have proved heretofore out of Galen, and much heat frets and consumes what is delicate, and leaves behind the parts gross and earthly. For the like reason, a good imagination cannot be united with much memory; for excessive heat resolveth the 
Any distemperature whatsoever, cannot any long time endure alone.  moisture of the brain, and leaveth it hard and dry, by means whereof it cannot easily receive the figures. In sort that in man there are no more but three general differences of wits, for there are no more but three qualities whence they may grow. But under these three universal differences, there are contained many other particulars, by means of degrees of access which heat, moisture and dryness may have.  
Notwithstanding there springs a difference in wits from every degree of these three qualities, for the dry, the hot, and the moist, may exceed in so high a degree, that it may altogether disturb the animal power, conformable to that sentence of Galen, Every excessive distemperature resolves the forces; and so it is. For albeit dryness give help to the understanding, yet it may be that the same shall consume his operations. Which Galen and the ancient Philosophers would not admit, but affirm, that if old men's brains grew not cold, they should never decay, though they became dry in the fourth degree. But they have no reason for this, as we will prove in the imaginative: for albeit his operations be performed with heat, yet if it pass the third degree, forthwith the same gins to resolve, and the like doth the memory through overmuch moisture.  
How many differences of wits grow by means of the superabounding of each of these three qualities, cannot for this present be particularly recited, except tofore we recount all the operations and actions of the understanding, the imagination, and the memory. But the whilst we are to know that the principal works of the understanding are three: the first, to discourse; the second, to distinguish; and the third, to choose. Hence comes it that they place also three differences in the understanding: into three other is the memory divided: one receives with ease, and suddenly forgetteth; another is slow to receive, but a long time retaineth; and the last receiveth with ease, and is very slow to forget.  
The imagination containeth many more differences, for he hath three, no less than the understanding and memory, and from each degree ariseth three other. Of these we will more distinctly discourse hereafter, when we shall assign to each, the science which answereth it in particular.  
But he that will consider three other differences of wit, shall find that there are abilities in those who study, some which have a disposition for the clear and easy contemplations of the art which they learn, but if you set them about matters obscure and very difficult, it will prove a lost labour for the teacher to shape them a figure thereof by fit examples, or that they frame themselves the like by their own imagination, for they want the capacity.  
In this degree are all the bad scholars of whatsoever faculty, who being demanded touching the easy points of their art, answer to the purpose, but coming to matters of more curiousness, they will tell you a hundred follies. Other wits advance themselves one degree higher, for they are pliant and easy in learning things, and they can imprint in themselves all the rules and considerations of art, plain, obscure, easy, and difficult; but as for doctrine, argument, doubting, answering, and distinguishing, they are all matters, wherewith they may in no wise be cumbered. These need to learn sciences at the hands of good teachers, well skilled in knowledge, and to have plenty of books, and to study them hard, for so much the less shall their knowledge be, as they forbear to read and take pains. Of these may be verified that so famous sentence of Aristotle, Our understanding is like a plain table, wherein nothing 
Of these differences of wits, Aristotle said in this manner: He verily is best, who understandeth every thing by himself: and he also is good, who obeith him that saith well.  is portrayed. For whatsoever they are to know and attain, it behooves that first they hear the same of some other, and are barren of all invention themselves. In the third degree, nature maketh some wits so perfect, that they stand not in need of teachers to instruct them, nor to direct in what sort they are to philosophise, for out of one consideration, indicted to them by their schoolmaster, they will gather a hundred, and without that ought be bestowed unto them, they fill their wit with science and knowledge. Those wits beguiled Plato, and made him to say, That our knowledge is a certain spice of remembrance, when he heard them speak and say that which never fell into consideration with other men.  
To such, it is allowable that they writ books, and 
The invention of arts, and the making of books (saith Galen) is performed with the understanding and with the memory, or with the imaginative: but he thatwrites for that he hath many things in his mind, cannot add any new invention.  to others not: for the order and concert which is to be held, to the end that sciences may daily receive increase and greater perfection, is to join the new invention of ourselves, who live now, with that which the ancients left written in their books. For dealing after this manner, each in his time, shall add an increase to the arts, and men who are yet unborn, shall enjoy the invention and travail of such as lived before. As for such who want invention, the common wealth should not consent that they make books, nor suffer them to be printed, because they do nought else save heap up matters already delivered, and sentences of grave authors, returning to repeat the self things, stealing one from hence, and taking another from thence; and there is no man, but after such a fashion may make a book.  
Wits full of invention, are by the Tuscans called goatish, 
This difference of wits is very dangerous for Divinity, where the understanding ought to abide bound to that which the Catholic church doth resolve.  for the likeness which they have with a goat, in their demeanour and proceeding. These never take pleasure in the plains, but ever delight to walk alone thorough dangerous and high places, and to appproch near steep downfalls, for they will not follow any beaten path, nor go in company. A property like this, is found in the reasonable soul when it possesseth a brain well instrumentalized and tempered, for it never resteth settled in any contemplation, but fareth forth with unquiet, seeking to know and understand new matters. Of such a soul is verified the saying of Hypocrates, The going of the soul is the thought of men. For there are some, who never pass out of one contemplation, and think not that the whole world can discover another such. These have the property of a beast, who never forsakes the beaten path, nor careth to walk through desert and unhaunted places, but only in the high market way, and with a guide before him. Both these diversities of wits, are ordinary amongst professors of learning. Some others there are of high searching capacities, and estranged from the common course of opinions, they judge and entreat of matters with a particular fashion, they are frank in delivering their opinion, and tie not themselves to that of any other. Some sorts are close, moist, and very quiet, distrusting themselves, and relying upon the judgement of some grave man whom they follow, whose sayings and sentences, they repute as sciences and demonstrations, and all things contrarying the same they reckon vanity and leasings.  
These two differences of wits are very profitable if 
This difference of wits scenteth very well for Divinity, where it behoveth to ensue the divine authority, declared by the holy Counsels and sacred Doctors.  they be united; for as amongst a great drove of cattle, the herdsmen accustom to mingle some dozen of goats to lead them and make them troth apace, to enjoy new pastures, that they may not suffer scarcity; so also it behoveth, that in human learning, there be some goat-like wits, who may discover to the cattle like understandings, thorough secrets of nature, and deliver unto them contemplations not heard of, wherein they may exercise themselves, for after this manner, arts take increase, and men daily know more and more.   

CHAP. VI  
Certain doubts and arguments are propounded against the doctrine of the last chapter, and their answer.  
ONe of the causes for which the wisdom of Socrates hath been so famous till this day, is, for that after he was adjudged by the oracle of Apollo, to be the wisest man of the world, he said thus: I know this only, that I know nothing at all: which sentence, all those that have seen and read, passed it over as spoken by Socrates, for that he was a man of great humbleness, a despiser of worldly things, and one to whom, in respect of divine matters, all else seemed of no valour. But they verily are beguiled, for none of the ancient Philosophers possessed the virtue of humility, nor knew what thing it was, until God came into the world and taught the same.  
The meaning of Socrates was, to give to understand how little certainty is contained in human sciences, and how unsettled and fearful the understanding of a Philosopher is in that which he knoweth, seeing by experience, that all is full of doubts and arguments, and that we can yield assent to nothing, without fearing that it may be contrary. For it was said, The thoughts of men are doubtful, and our foreseeings uncertain. And he who will attain the true knowledge of things, it behooves that he rest settled and quiet without fear or doubt of being deceived, and the Philosopher who is not thus wise grounded, may with much truth affirm that he knoweth nothing.  
This same consideration had Galen, when he said, Science is a convenient and firm notice, which never departeth from reason; therefore thou shalt not find it amongst the Philosophers, especially when they consider the nature of things: but verily much less in matters of Physic, nay rather (to speak all in one word) it never makes his full arrival where men are.  
Hereby it seemeth that the true notice of things fails to come this way, and to man arriveth only a certain opinion, which makes him to walk uncertain, and with fear whether the matter which he affirmeth be so or no. But that which Galen noteth more particularly, touching this, is, that Philosophy and Physic, are the most uncertain of all those wherewith men are to deal. And if this be true, what shall we say touching the Philosophy whereof we now entreat, where with the understanding, we make an anatomy of a matter so obscure and difficult, as are the powers and faculties of the reasonable soul? In which point are offered so many doubts and arguments, that there remains no clear doctrine upon which we may rely.  
One of which, and the principal, is, that we have made the Understanding an instrumental power, as the Imagination, and the Memory: and have given dryness to the brain, as an instrument with which it may work; a thing far repugnant to the doctrine of Aristotle and all his followers, who placing the understanding severed from the bodily instrument, prove easily the immortality of the reasonable soul, and that the same issuing out of the body, endureth for ever. Now the contrary opinion being disputable, the way hereby is stopped up, so that this cannot be proved. Moreover, the reasons on which Aristotle groundeth himself, to prove that the understanding is not an instrumental power, carry such efficacy, as other than that cannot be concluded. For to this power appertaineth the knowing and understanding the nature and being of whatsoever material things in the world, and if the same should be conjoined with any bodily thing, that self would hinder the knowledge of the residue: as we see in the outward senses, that if the taste be bitter, all the things which the tongue toucheth, partake the same savour; and if the crystalline humour be green or yellow, all that the eye seethe, it judgeth to be of the same colour. The reason of this is, for that the thing within breeds an impediment to that without.  
Aristotle saith moreover, That if the understanding were mingled with any bodily instrument, it would retain some quality, for whatsoever uniteth itself with heat or cold, it is of force that it partake of the same quality. But to say that the understanding is hot, cold, moist, or dry, is to utter a matter abominable to the ears of all natural Philosophers.  
The second principal doubt is, that Aristotle and all the Peripatetics, bring in two other powers besides the Understanding, the Imagination, & the Memory: namely, Remembrance, and Common sense, grounding upon that rule, That the powers are known by way of the actions. They said, That besides the operations of the Understanding, the Imagination, & the Memory, there are also two other different. So then the wit of man taketh his original from five powers, and not from three only, as we did prove.  
We said also in the last chapter, after the opinion of Galen, that the memory doth none other work in the brain, save only to preserve the shapes and figures of things, in such sort as a chest preserveth and keepeth apparel and what so else is put thereinto. And if by such a comparison, we are to understand the office of this power, it is requisite also to prove another reasonable faculty, which may fetch out the figures from the memory, and represent them to the understanding, even as it is necessary that there be one to open the chest, and to take out what hath been laid up therein.  
Besides this, we said that the understanding and the memory are contrary powers, and that the one chaseth away the other, for the one loveth great dryness, and the other much moisture, and a suppleness of the brain. And if this be true, wherefore said Aristotle and Plato, That men who have their flesh tender, enjoy great understanding, seeing this suppleness is an effect of moisture.  
We said also, that for effecting that a memory may be good, it was necessary the brain should be endowed with moisture, for the figures ought to be printed therein by way of compression, and the same being hard, they cannot so easily make a sign therein. True it is, that to receive figures with readiness, it requireth that the brain be pliant, but to preserve the shapes some long time, all affirm that it is necessary the same be hard and dry, as it appeareth in outward things, where the figure printed in a pliant substance, is easily canceled, but in the dry and hard, it never perisheth. Wherethrough we see many men who con by heart with great readiness, but forget again very speedily. Of which, Galen rendering a reason, saith that such through much moisture, have the substance of their brain tender and not settled, for the figure is soon canceled, as if it were sealed in water. And contrariwise, other learn by heart with difficulty, but what they have once learned, they never forget again. Wherethrough it seemeth a matter impossible, that there should be that difference of memory which we speak of, which should learn with ease, and preserve a long time.  
It is also hard to understand how it is possible that so many figures being sealed together in the brain, the one should not cancel the other, for if in a piece of softened wax, there be printed many seals of divers figures, it falls out certain, that some cancel other some, by the intermingling of these figures.  
And that which breedeth no less difficulty, is, to know whence it proceedeth, that the memory by exercising itself, becometh the more easy to receive figures, it being certain, that not only bodily exercise, but spiritual much more, drieth and soaketh the flesh.  
It is also hard to conceive, in what sort the imagination is contrary to the understanding, if there be none other more urgent cause, than to say, That excessive heat resolveth the subtle parts of the brain, leaving an earthly and gross remnant, seeing that Melancholy, is one of the grossest and earthliest humours of our body. And Aristotle saith, That the understanding useth the service of none so much, as of that. And this difficulty is increased, considering that melancholy is a gross humour, cold and dry; and choler is of a delicate substance, and of temperature hot and dry, and yet for all this, melancholy is more appropriate to the understanding than choler. Which seemeth repugnant to reason, for this humour aideth the understanding with two qualities, and gainsetteth itself only with one, which is heat. But melancholy aideth it with his dryness, and with none other, and opposeth itself by his cold, and by his gross substance, which is a thing that the understanding most abhorreth. For which cause, Galen assigneth more wit and prudence to choler, than to melancholy, saying thus; Readiness and Prudence, spring from the humour of choler, and the melancholic humour is author of integrity and constancy.  
Lastly, the cause may be demanded, whence it may grow, that toiling, and continual contemplation of study maketh many wise, in whom at the beginning, the good nature of these qualities, which we speak of, was wanting: and so by giving and receiving with the imagination, they come to make themselves capable of many verities, which tofore they knew not, nor had the temperature which thereto was requisite. For if they had possessed the same, so much labour should not have been needful.  
All these difficulties, and many other beside, are contrary to the doctrine of the last chapter. For natural Philosophy hath not so certain principles as the Mathematical sciences, wherein, the Physician and the Philosop (if he be also a Mathematician) may always make demonstration: but coming afterwards to the cure which is conformable to the art of Physic, he shall commit therein many errors, and yet not always thorough his own fault (sithence in the Mathematics he always followed a certainty) but through the little assurance of the art, for which cause, Aristotle said, The Physician though he always cure not, is not therefore a bad one, provided that he foreslow not to perform any of those points which appertain to the art. But if he should commit any error in the Mathematics, he would be void of excuse. For performing in this science all the diligences which it requireth, it is impossible that the truth should not appear. In sort, that albeit we yield not a manifest demonstration of this doctrine, yet the whole fault is not to be laid on our want of capacity, neither may it straightways be recounted as false that we deliver.  
To the first principal doubt, we answer, that if the understanding were severed from the body, and had nought to do with heat, cold, moist, and dry, nor with the other bodily qualities, it would follow that all men should partake equal understanding, and that all should equally discourse. But we see by experience, that one man understandeth and discourseth better than another, than this groweth, for that the understanding is an instrumental power, and better disposed in one than in another, and not from any other occasion. For all reasonable souls and their understandings (sundered from the body) are of equal perfection and knowledge. Those who follow Aristotle's doctrine, seeing by experience, that some discourse better than othersome, have found an excuse in appearance, saying; That the discoursing of one better than another, is not caused, for that the understanding is an instrumental power, & that the brain is better disposed in some than in othersome: but for that the understanding (whilst the reasonable soul remaineth in the body) standeth in need of the phantasms and figures which are in the imagination, and in the memory. Through default whereof, the understanding falls to discourse illy, and not through his own fault, nor for that it is joined with a matter badly instrumentalized. But this answer is contrary to the doctrine of Aristotle himself, who proveth, that by how much the memory is the worse, by so much the understanding is the better; and by how much the memory is bettered, by so much the understanding is impaired; and the same we have heretofore proved as touching the imagination, in confirmation of that which Aristotle demandeth, What the cause is, that we waxing old, have so bad a memory, and so good an understanding: and when we are young, it falls out contrary, that we possess a great memory and small understanding. Hereof, in one thing we see the experience, and Galen noteth it, that when in a disease, the temperature and good disposition of the brain is impaired, many times the operations of the understanding are thereby lost, and yet those of the memory and the imagination remain sound, which could not come to pass, if the understanding enjoyed not a particular instrument for itself besides this which the other powers do partake.  
To this I know not what may be yielded in answer, unless it be by some metaphysical relation, compounded of action and power, which neither themselves know what it meaneth, nor is there any other man that understands it. Nothing more endammageth man's knowledge than to confound the sciences: and what belongs to the Metaphysics, to entreat thereof in natural Philosophy; and matters of natural Philosophy in the Metaphysics.  
The reasons whereupon Aristotle grounded himself are of small moment, for the consequence followeth not, to say that the understanding, because it must know material things, should not therefore enjoy a bodily instrument: for the bodily qualities which serve for the composition of the instrument, make no alteration of the power; nor from them do the phantasms arise, even as the sensible, placed above the sense, causeth not the self sense. This is plainly seen in touching, for notwithstanding that the same is compounded of four material qualities: and that the same hath in it quantity, and hardness or softness; for all this, the hand discerneth whether a thing be hot or cold, hard or soft, great or little. And if you ask in what sort the natural heat which is in the hand, hindereth not the touching that it may discern the heat which is in the stove; we answer, that the qualities which serve for the composition of the instrument, do not alter the instrument itself, neither from them do there issue any shapes whereby to know them. Even as it appertaineth to the eye to know all figures and qualities of things, and yet we see that the eye itself hath his proper figure and quantity, and of the humours and skins which go to his composition, some have colours, and some are diaphane and trasparant, all which hindereth not, but that we with our sight may discern the figures and quantities of all the things which shall appear before us: and the reason is, for that the humours, the skins, the figure, and the quantity, serve for the composition of the eye, and such things cannot alter the sightfull power, and therefore trouble not nor hinder the knowledge of the outward figures. The like we affirm of the understanding, that his proper instrument (though the same be material and joined with it) cannot enlarge it, for from it issue no understandable shapes, which have force to alter it: and the reason is, For that the understandable placed above the understanding, causeth not the understanding; & so it remaineth at liberty to understand all the outward material things, without that it encounter aught to hinder the same. The second reason wherein Aristotle grounded himself, is of less importance than the former, for neither the understanding, nor any other accident, can be quality-like, for of themselves, they cannot be the subject of any quality. For which cause, it little skilleth that the understanding possess the brain for an instrument together with the temperature of the 4. first qualities, that therefore it may be called quality-like, inasmuch as the brain and not the brain and not the understanding, is the subject of the heat, the cold, the moist, and the dry.  
To the third difficulty which the Peripatetics allege, saying, That by making the understanding an instrumental power, we reave one of those principles, which serve to prove the immortality of the reasonable soul: we answer, That there are other arguments of more soundness, whereby to prove the same, whereof we will treat in the chapter following.  
To the second argument, we answer that not every difference of operations argueth a diversity of powers: for (as we will prove hereafter) the imaginative performeth matter so strange, that if this maxim were true in sort as the vulgar Philosophers had it, or admitting the interpretation which they give it, there should be in the brain, ten or twelve powers more. But because all these operations, are to be marshaled under one general reason, they argue no more than one imaginative, which is afterwards divided into many particular differences, by the means of the sundry operations which it performeth: the composing of the shapes, in the presence or the absence of the objects, not only argueth not a diversity of the general powers (as are the common sense, and the imaginative) but even not of the very particulars.  
To the third argument we answer, that the memory is nothing else but a tenderness of the brain, disposed with a certain kind of moisture, to receive and preserve that, which the imaginative apprehendeth: with the like proportion, that white or blue paper holds with him who writeth: for as the writer, writeth in the paper the things which he would not forget, and after he hath written them, returns to read them; even so we ought to conceive, that the imagination writeth in the memory, the figures of the things known by the five senses, and by the understanding, as also some others of his own framing: and when it will remember aught (saith Arist.) it returneth to behold & contemplate them. With this manner of comparison Plato served himself, when he said that fearing the weak memory of old age, he hastened to make another of paper (namely books) to the end his travails ought not to be lost, but that he might have that which might represent them unto him, when he list to read them. This self doth the imaginative, of writing in the memory, and returning to read it when it would remember the same. The first who uttered this point was Aristotle, and the second Galen who said thus, Forasmuch as that part of the soul, which imagineth, whatsoever the same be, seemeth to be the self that also remembreth. And so verily it seemeth to be, for the things which we imagine with long thinking, are well fixed in the memory, and that which we handle with light consideration, also soon we forget the same again. And as the writer, when he writeth fair, the better assureth it to be read: so it befalls to the imaginative, that if it seal with force, the figure remaineth well imprinted in the brain: otherwise it can scarcely be discerned. The like also chanceth in old deeds, which being sound in part, and in part perished by time, cannot well be read, unless we gather much by reason and conjecture. So doth the imaginative, when in the memory, some figures remain, and some are perished, where Aristotle's error had his original, who for this cause conceived that remembrance was a different power from the memory. Moreover, he affirmed, that those who have great remembrance, are likewise of great understanding, which is also false: for the imaginative, which is that that makes the remembrance, is contrary to the understanding; in sort, that to gather memory of things, and to remember them after they are known is a work of the imagination: as to write and return to read it, is a work of the Scrivener, and not of the paper. Whereby it falleth out that the memory remaineth a power passive, and not active: even as the blue and the white of the paper, is none other than a commodity whereby to write.  
To the fourth doubt may be answered, That it maketh little to the purpose, as touching the wit, whether the flesh be hard or tender, if the brain partake not also the same quality, the which we see many times hath a distinct temperature from all the other parts of the body. But when they concur in one self tenderness, it is an 
The smooth, white, and gross persons, have no melancholic humour.  evil token for the understanding, and no less for the imagination. And if we consider the flesh of women and children, we shall find that in tenderness it excee, death that of men, and this notwithstanding, commonly men have a better wit than women: and the natural reason hereof is, For that the humours, which make the flesh tender, are phlegm and blood, because they are both moist (as we have above specified) and of them Galen said, That they make men simple & dullards: and 
Amongst brute beasts, there is none which approacheth nearer to man's wisdom than the Oliphant, and there is none of a flesh so rough and hard.  contrariwise, the humours which harden the flesh, are choler and melancholy: and hence grow the prudence and sapience which are found in man. In sort, that it is rather an ill token, to have the flesh tender, than dry and hard. And so in men who have an equal temperature throughout their whole body, it is an easy matter to gather the quality of their wit by the tenderness or hardness of their flesh: For if it be hard & rough, it giveth token either of a good understanding or a good imagination; and if smooth and supple, of the contrary, namely of good memory, and small understanding, and less imagination: and to understand whether the brain have correspondence, it behoveth to consider the hair, which being big, black, rough, and thick, yieldeth token of a good imagination, or a good understanding: and if soft and smooth, they are a sign of much memory and nothing else. But who so will distinguish and know, whether the same be understanding, or imagination (when the hair is of this sort) it must be considered of what form the child is in the act of laughter: for this passion discovereth much, of what quality he is in the imagination.  
What the reason and cause of laughter should be, many Philosophers have laboured to conceive, and none of them hath delivered aught that may well be understood, but all agree that the blood is an humour, which provoketh a man to laugh, albeit none express with what quality this humour is endued more than the rest, why it should make a man addicted to laughter. The follies which are committed with laughing, are less dangerous: but those which are done with labour are more perilous: as if he should say, When the diseased become giddy and doting do laugh, they rest in more safety, than if they were in toil and anguish: for the former cometh of blood, which is a most mild humour, and the second of melancholy: but we grounding upon the doctrine, whereof we entreat, shall easily understand all that, which in this case may be desired to be known. The cause of laughter (in my judgement) is nought else, but an approving, which is made by the imagination, seeing or hearing somewhat done or said, which accordeth very well: and this power remaineth in the brain, when any of these things give it contentment, suddenly it moveth the same, and after it all the muscles of the body, and so, many times we do allow of witty sayings, by bowing down of the head. When then the imagination is very good, it contents not itself with every speech, but only with those which please very well: and if they have some little correspondence, and nothing else, the same receiveth thereby rather pain than gladness: Hence it groweth that men of great imagination, laugh very seldom, and the point most worthy of noting, is, that jesters, and natural counterfeiters never laugh at their own merriments, nor at that which they hear others to utter: for they have an imagination so delicate, that not even their own pleasantries, can yield that correspondence which they require.  
Hereto may be added, that merriments (besides that they must have a good proportion, and be uttered to the purpose) must be new, and not tofore heard or seen. And this is the property not only of the imagination, but also of all the other powers which govern man: for which cause we see, that the stomach when it hath twice fed upon one kind of meat, straightways loatheth the same: so doth the sight one self shape and colour; the hearing one concordance, how good soever; and the understanding one self contemplation. Hence also it proceedeth, that the pleasant conceited man, laugheth not at the jests which himself uttereth: for before he send them forth from his lips, he knew what he would speak: Whence I conclude, that those who laugh much, are all defective in their imagination, wherethrough whatsoever merriment & pleasantry, (how cold soever) with them carrieth a very good correspondency: And because the blood partaketh much moisture (whereof we said before, that it breedeth damage to the imagination:) those who are very sanguine, are also great laughers. Moisture holdeth this property, that because the same is tender and gentle, it abateth the force of heat, and makes that it burn not overmuch. For which cause, it partakes better agreement with dryness, because it sharpeneth his operations. Besides this, where there is much moisture, it is a sign that the heat is remiss, seeing it cannot resolve nor consume the same: and the imagination cannot perform his operations with a heat so weak. Hence we gather also, that men of great understanding, are much given to laughter, for that they have defect of imagination, as we read of that great Philosopher Democritus, and many others whom myself have seen and noted. Then by means of this laughter we shall know, if that which men or boys have of flesh hard and tough, and of hair black, thick, hard, and rough, betoken either the imagination, or the understanding. In sort, that Aristotle in this doctrine, was somewhat out of the way.  
To the fifth argument we answer, that there are two kinds of moisture in the brain, one which groweth of the air (when this element predominateth in the mixture) and another of the water, with which the other elements are amassed. If the brain be tender by the first moisture, the memory shall be very good: easy to receive, and mighty to retain the figures for a long time. For the moisture of the air, is very supple and full of fatness, on which the shapes are tacked with sure holdfast, as we see in pictures, which are limned in oil, who being set against the sun and the water, receive thereby no damage at all: and if we cast oil upon any writing, it will never be wiped out, but marreth the same: and that which cannot be read, with oil is made legible, by yielding thereto a brightness and transparence. But if the difference of the brain, spring from the second kind of moisture, the argument frameth very well: For if it receive with facility, with the same readiness, it turneth again to cancel the figure, because the moisture of the water, hath no fatness, wherein the figures may fasten themselves. These two moistures are known by the hair. For that which springs from the air maketh them to prove unctuous and full of oil and fat: and the water maketh them moist and very supple.  
To the sixth argument may be answered, that the figures of things are not printed in the brain, as the figure of the seal is in wax, but they pierce thereinto to remain there affixed, in sort as the sparrows are attached to bird-lime, or the flies stick in honey: For these figures are bodiless, and cannot be mingled nor corrupt one the other.  
To the seventh difficulty we answer, that the figures amass and mollify the substance of the brain, in such sort, as wax groweth soft by plying the same between our fingers: besides that the vital spirits have virtue to make tender and supple the hard and dry members, as the outward heat doth the iron. And that the vital spirits ascend to the brain, when any thing is learned by heart, we have proved heretofore, And every bodily and spiritual exercise, doth not dry: yea the Physicians affirm, that the moderate fatteneth.  
To the eighth argument we answer, that there are two spices of melancholy: one natural, which is the dross of the blood, whose temperature is cold and dry, accompanied with a substance very gross, this serves not of any value for the wit, but maketh men blockish, sluggards, and grinners, because they want imagination. There is another sort which is called choler ad-ust, or atra bile, of which Aristotle said, That it made men exceeding wise: whose temperature is divers, as that of vinegar. Sometimes it performeth the effects of heat, lightning the earth; and sometimes it cooleth, but always it is dry and of a very delicate substance. Cicero confesseth that he was slow witted, because he was not melancholic adust, and he said true, for if he had been such, he should not have possessed so rare a gift of eloquence. For the melancholic adust want memory, to which appertaineth the speaking with great preparation. It hath another quality which much aideth the understanding, namely, that it is clear like the Agatstone, with which clearness it giveth light within to the brain, and maketh the same to discern well the figures. And of this opinion was Heraclitus when he said, A dry clearness maketh a most wise mind, with which clearness, natural melancholy is not endowed, but his black is deadly: and that the reasonable soul there within the brain, standeth in need of light to discern the figures & the shapes, we will prove hereafter.  
To the ninth argument we answer, that the prudence and readiness of the mind which Galen speaketh of, appertaineth to the imagination, whereby we know that which is to come, whence Cicero said, Memory is of things passed, and Prudence of those to come. The readiness of the mind is that, which commonly they call a sharpness in imagining, and by other names, craftiness, subtlety, cavilling, wiliness: wherefore Cicero said, Prudence is a subtlety which with a certain reason, can make choice of good things and of evil. This sort of Prudence and readiness, men of great understanding do want, because they lack imagination. For which reason we see by experience in great scholars in this sort of learning, which appertaineth to the understanding, that taking them from their books, they are not worth a rush to yield or receive in traffic of worldly affairs. This spice of Prudence, Galen said very well, that it came of choler, for Hypocrates recounting to Damagetus his friend, in what case he found Democritus, when he went 
Note that men of great understanding, take no care for attiring their body, but are ordinarily ill appareled & slovenly, and hereof we yield the reason in the 8. cha. and 14.  to visit him for curing him, writeth that he lay in the field, under a plane tree, bare legged, and without breeches, leaning against a stone with a book in his hand, and compassed about with brute beasts, dead and dismembered. Whereat Hypocrates marveling, asked him whereto those beasts of that fashion served, and he then answered, that he was about to search what humour it was, which made a man to be headlong, crafty, ready, double, and cavillous, & had found (by making an anatomy of those wild beasts) that choler was the cause of so discommendable a property: and that to revenge himself of crafty persons, he would handle them as he had done the fox, the serpent and the ape. This manner of Prudence is not only odious to men, but also S. Paul saith of it, The wisdom of the flesh is enemy to God. The cause is assigned by Plato, who affirmeth that knowledge which is removed from justice, ought rather to be termed subtlety than prudence, as if he should have said: It is no reason that a knowledge which is severed from justice, should be called wisdom, but rather craft, or maliciousness. Of this, the devil evermore serveth himself to do men damage, and S. james said, that this wisdom came not from heaven, but is earthly, beastly, and devilish.  
There is found another spice of wisdom, conjoined with reason and simplicity, and by this, men know the good and shun the evil: the which, Galen affirmeth doth appertain to the understanding, for this power is not capable of maliciousness, doubleness, nor subtlety, nor hath the skill how to do nought, but is wholly upright, just, gentle, and plain. A man endowed with this sort of wit, is called upright and simple, wherethrough when Demosthenes went about to creep into the good liking of the judges in an oration which he made against Eschines, he termed them upright and simple, in respect of the simplicity of their duty: concerning which, Cicero saith, Duty is simple, and the only cause of all good things. For this sort of wisdom, the cold and dry of melancholy is a serving instrument, but it behoveth that the same be composed of parts very subtle and delicate.  
To the last doubt may be answered, that when a man setteth himself to contemplate some truth, which he would feign know, and cannot by and by find it out, the same groweth for that the brain wanteth his convenient temperature; but when a man standeth ravished in a contemplation, the natural heat that is in the vital spirits, and the arterial blood, run forthwith to the head, and the temperature of the brain enhanceth itself, until the same arrive to the term behoveful. True it is, that much musing, to some doth good, and to some harm: for if the brain want but a little to arrive to that point of convenient heat, it is requisite that he make but small stay in the contemplation, and if it pass that point straightways the understanding is driven into a garboil, by the over plentiful presence of the vital spirits, and so he cannot attain to the notice of the truth. For which cause, we see many men, who upon the sudden speak very well: but with advisement are nothing worth. Others have their understanding so base, either through too much coldness, or too much drought, that it is requisite the natural heat abide along time in the head, to the end the temperature may lift itself up to the degrees which are wanting, wherethrough they speak better upon deliberation then on the sudden.   

CHAP. VII.  
It is showed, that though the reasonable soul have need of the temperature of the four first qualities, aswell for his abiding in the body, as also to discourse and syllogise, Yet for all this, it followeth not, that the same is corruptible and mortal.  
PLato held it for a matter very certain, that the reasonable soul is a substance bodiless, and spiritual: not subject to corruption or mortality, as that of brute beasts: the which departing from the body, possesseth another better and more quiet life. But this is to be understood (saith Plato) if a man have led his life conformable to reason, for otherwise, it were better that the soul had remained still in the body, there to suffer the torments, with which God chastiseth the wicked. This conclusion is so notable and catholic, that if he attained the knowledge thereof by the happiness of his wit, with a just title he came to be called the divine Plato. But albeit the same is such as we see, yet for all this, Galen could never bring within his conceit, that it was true, but held it always doubtful, seeing a wise man through the heat of his brain, to dote, and by applying cold medicines unto him, he cometh to his wits again. In respect whereof, he said he could wish that Plato were now living, to the end he might ask him how it was possible that the reasonable soul should be immortal, seeing it altered so easily with heat, with cold, with moisture, & with drought: & principally, considering that the same departs from the body through overmuch heat, or when a man giveth over himself excessively to lasciviousness, or is forced to drink poison, and such other bodily alterations, which accustomably bereave the life. For if it were bodiless and spiritual (as Plato affirmeth) heat, being a material quality, could not make the same to lose his powers, nor set his operations in a garboil.  
These reasons, brought Galen into a confusion, and 
Galen dying, went to hell, and saw by experience that material fire burned the souls, and could not consume them: this Physician had knowledge of that evangelical doctrine, and could not receive it.  made him wish that some Platonist would resolve him these doubts, and I believe, that in his life time he met not with any, but after his death experience showed him that which his understanding could not conceive. For it is a thing certain, that the infallible certainty of our immortal soul, is not gathered from human reasons, or from arguments which prove that it is corruptible, for to the one and the other, an answer may easily be shaped, it is only our faith which maketh us certain and assured, that the same endureth for ever. But Galen had small reason, to intricate himself in arguments of so slight consequence, for the works which seem to be performed by means of some instrument, it cannot well be gathered in natural Philosophy, that it proceedeth from a defect in the principal agent, if they take not perfection. That painter who portraieth well when he hath a pencil requisite for his art, falleth not in blame, if with a bad pencil he draw ill favoured shapes, and of bad delineation: and it is no good argument to say, that the writer had an imperfection in his hand, when through default of a well made pen, he is forced to write with a stick. Galen considering the marvelous works which are in the universe, and the wisdom and providence by which they were made and ordained, concluded thereof, that in the world there was a God, though we behold him not with our corporal eyes, of whom he uttered these words; God was not made at any time, in as much as he is everlastingly unbegotten. And in another place he saith, That the frame and composition of man's body was not made by the reasonable soul, nor by the natural heat, but by God, or by some very wise understanding.  
Out of which there may be framed an argument against Galen, and his false consequence be overthrown, and it is thus: Thou hast suspected that the reasonable soul is corruptible, because if the brain be well tempered, it fitteth well to discourse and philosophise, and if the same grow hot or cold beyond due, it doteth, and uttereth a thousand follies; the same may be inferred, considering the works which thou speakest of, as touching God: for if he make a man in places temperate (where the heat exceedeth not the cold, nor the moist the dry) he produceth him very witty and discreet, and if the country be untemperate, he breedeth them all fools and doltish. For the same Galen affirmeth that it is a miracle to find a wise man in Scythia, and in Athens they are all born Philosophers. To suspect then that God is corruptible, because with one quality he performeth these works well, and with the contrary they prove ill, Galen himself would not confess, for as much as he said before, that God was everlasting.  
Plato held another way of more certainty, saying, That albeit God be everlasting, almighty, and of infinite wisdom: yet he proceedeth in his works as a natural agent, & makes himself subject to the disposition of the four first qualities: in sort, that to beget a man very wise, and like to himself, it behoveth that he provide a place the most temperate of the whole world, where the heat of the air may not exceed the cold, nor the moist the dry, and therefore he said, But God as desirous of war, and of wisdom, having chosen a place which should produce men like unto himself, would that the same should be first inhabited: And though God would shape a man of great wisdom in Scythia, or in any other intemperate country, and did not herein employ his omnipotency, he should of necessity yet prove a fool, through the contrariety of the first qualities. But Plato would not have inferred (as Galen did) that God was alterable and corruptible: for that the heat and coldness would have brought an impediment to his work. The same may be collected, when a reasonable soul, for that it is seated in a brain inflamed, cannotuse his discretion and wisdom, and not to think that in respect thereof, the same is subject to mortality and corruption. The departure out of the body, and the not being able to support the great heat, nor the other alterations which are wont to kill men, showeth plainly that the same is an act and substantial form of man's body, and that to abide therein, it requireth certain material dispositions, fitted to the being, which it hath of the soul, and that the instruments with which it must work, be well composed, and well united, and of that temperature, which is requisite for his operations, all which failing, it behoveth of force, that it err in them, and departed from the body.  
The error of Galen consisted, in that he would verify by the principles of natural Philosophy, whether the reasonable soul, issuing out of the body, do forthwith die or not: this being a question, which appertaineth to another superior science, and of more certain principles, in which we will prove, that it is no good argument nor concludeth well, that the soul of man is corruptible, because the same dwelleth quietly in a body endowed with these qualities, and departeth when they do fail. Neither is this difficult to be proved: for other spiritual substances, of greater perfection than the reasonable soul do make choice of place, altered with material qualities, in which it seemeth, they take abode with their content: and if there succeed any contrary dispositions, forthwith they depart, because they cannot endure it: for it is a thing certain, that there are to be found some dispositions in a man's body, which the devil coveteth with so great eagerness, as to enjoy them, he entereth into the man where they rested, wherethrough he becometh possessed: but the same being corrupted and changed by contrary medicines, and an alteration being wrought in these black, filthy, and stinking humours, he naturally comes to departed. This is plainly discerned by experience: for if there be in a house, great, dark, foul, putrefied, melancholic, and void of dwellers to make abode therein, the devils soon take it up for their lodging: but if the same be cleansed, the windows opened, and the sunbeams admitted to enter, by and by they get them packing, and specially if it be inhabited by much company, and that there be meetings and pastimes, and playing on musical instruments: how greatly harmony and good proportion offendeth the devil, is apparently seen by the authority of the divine scripture, where we find recounted, that David taking a Harp, and playing thereupon, straightways made the devils run away, and departed out of Saul his body, And albeit this matter have his spiritual understanding: yet I conceive thereby, that music naturally molesteth the devil, wherethrough he cannot in any sort endure it. The people of Israel knew before by experience, that the devil was enemy to music: and because they had notice hereof, saul's servants spoke these words: Behold, the evil spirit of the Lord tormenteth thee: let my Lord the king therefore command, that thy servants, who wait in thy presence, search out a man who can play on the cithern, to the end, that when the evil spirit of the Lord taketh thee, he may play with his hand, and thou thereby mayst receive ease. In the self manner, as there are found out words and conjurations, which make the devil to tremble; and not to hear them: he abandoneth the place which he chose for his habitation. So joseph recounteth that Solomon left in writing, certain manners of conjuration, by which he not only chased away the devil for the present, but he never had the hardiness to return again to that body, from whence he was once so expelled, The same Solomon showed also a root of so abominable savour in the devils nose, that if it were applied to the nostrils of the possessed, he would forthwith shake his ears and run away. The devil is so slovinly, so melancholic, and so much an enemy to things neat, cheerful, and clear, that when Christ entered into the region of Genezaret, S. Matthew recounteth, how certain devils met him in dead carcases, which they had caught out of their graves, crying, and saying, jesus thou son of David, what hast thou to do with us, that thou art come before hand to torment us? we pray thee that if thou be to drive us out of this place where we are, thou wilt yet let us enter into that Herd of swine which is yonder. For which reason, the holy Scripture termeth them unclean spirits: Whence we plainly discern, that not only the reasonable soul, requireth such dispositions in the body, that they may inform it, and be the beginning of all his operations, but also hath need to sojourn therein, as in a place befitting his nature.  
The devils then (being a substance of more perfection) abhor some bodily qualities, and in the contrary take pleasure and contentment. In sort, that this of Galen is no good argument, The reasonable soul through excess of heat departs from the body, ergo it is corruptible, inasmuch as the devil doth the like (as we have said) and yet for all this is not mortal.  
But that which to this purpose deserveth most note, is, that the devil not only coveteth places alterable with bodily qualities, to sojourn there at his pleasure: but also when he will work any thing, which much importeth him, he serves himself with such bodily qualities, as are aidable to that effect. For if I should demand now, wherein the devil grounded himself, when minding to beguile Eve, he entered rather into a venomous serpent, than into a horse, a bear, a wolf, or any other beast, which were not of so ghastly shape? I wots not what might be given in answer: well I know that Galen admitteth not the sentences of Moses, nor of Christ our redeemer, because (saith he) they both speak without making demonstration: but I have always desired to learn from some Catholic, the solution of this doubt, and none hath yet satisfied me.  
This is certain (as already we have proved) that burnt and inflamed choler, is an humour which teacheth the reasonable soul in what sort to practise treasons and treacheries; and amongst brute beasts, there is 
But the serpent was the wiliest beast of the earth, amongst all those whom God hath made.  none which so much partaketh of this humour as the serpent, wherethrough more than all the rest (saith the scripture) he is crafty and guileful. The reasonable soul although it be the meanest of all the intelligences, partakes yet the same nature with the devil and the angels. And in like manner: as there it takes the service of venomous choler, to make a man wily and subtle: so the devil (being entered into the body of this cruel beast) made himself the more cunning and deceitful. This manner of Philosophising will not stick much in the natural Philosopher's stomachs, because the same carrieth some appearance that it may be so: but that which will breed them more astonishment, is, that when God would draw the world out of error, and easily teach them the truth (a work contrary to that which the devil went about) he came in the shape of a dove, and not of an eagle, nor a peacock, nor of any other birds of fairer figure: and the cause known, is this, that the dove partaketh much of the humour which inclineth to uprightness, to plainness, to truth, and to simplicity, and wanteth choler, the instrument of guile & maliciousness.  
None of these things are admitted by Galen, nor by the natural Philosophers: for they cannot conceive, how the reasonable soul, and the devil (being spiritual substances) can be altered by material qualities, as are heat, coldness, moisture, and drought. For if fire bring in heat to the wood, it is because they both possess a body, & a quantity, whereof they are the subject: the which faileth in spiritual substances, and admit (as a thing yet impossible) that bodily qualities, might alter a spiritual substance, what eyes hath the devil, or the reasonable soul, wherewith to see the colours and shapes of things? or what smelling, to receive savours, or what hearing for music? or what feeling, to rest offended with much heat, seeing that for all these, bodily instruments are behoveful. And if the reasonable soul, being severed from the body, remain aggrieved, and receive anguish and sadness, it is not possible that his nature should rest free from alteration, or not come to corruption. These difficulties and arguments, perplexed Galen and the other Philosophers of our times, but with me they conclude nothing. For when Aristotle affirmed, that the chiefest property which substance had, was to be subject to accidents: he restrained the same, neither to bodily nor to spiritual: for the property of the general is equally partaked by the special, and so he said, that the accidents of the body pass to the substance of the reasonable soul, and those of the soul, to the body: on which principle he grounded himself, to write all that which he uttered as touching Phisnomy, especially, that the accidents by which the powers receive alteration, are all spiritual, without body, and without quantity, or matter: and so they grow to multiply in a moment, through their mean, and pass through a glass window, without breaking the same, And two contrary accidents, may be extended in one self subject, as much as possibly they can be. In respect of which self quality, Galen termeth them undividable, and the vulgar Philosophers intentional: and the matter being in this sort, they may be very well proportioned with the spiritual substance.  
I cannot forego to think that the reasonable soul, severed from the body, as also the devil, hath a power sightfull, smelling, hearing, and feeling. The which (me seemeth) is easy to be proved: For if it be true, that their powers be known by means of their actions, it is a thing certain, that the devil had a smelling power, when he smelled that root, which Solomon commanded, should be applied to the nostrils of the possessed, And likewise that he had a hearing power, seeing he heard the music which David made to Saul. To say then, that the devil received these qualities by his understanding, it is a matter not avouchable, in the doctrine of the vulgar Philosophers: For this power is spiritual, and the objects of the five senses are material: and so it behoveth, to seek out some other powers in the reasonable soul, and in the devil, to which they may carry proportion. And if not, put case that the soul of the rich Glutton, had obtained at the hands of Abraham, that the soul of Lazarus should return to the world, to preach to his brethren, and persuade them that they should become honest men, to the end they might not pass to that place of torments, where himself abode. I demand now, in what manner the soul of Lazarus should have known to go to the city, and to those men's houses, and if the same had met them by the way, in company with others, whether it could have known them by sight, and been able to diversify them, from those who came with them? and if those brethren of the rich glutton, had inquired of the same who it was, and who had sent it: whether the same did partake any power to hear their words? The same may be demanded of the devil when he followed after Christ our redeemer, hearing him to preach, & seeing the miracles which he did, and in that disputation which they had together in the wilderness, with what ears the devil received the words, and the answers which Christ gave unto him.  
Verily, it betokens a want of understanding, to think that the devil, or the reasonable soul (sundered from the body) cannot know the objects of the five senses, albeit they want the bodily instruments. For by the same reason, I will prove unto them, that the reasonable soul, severed from the body, cannot understand, imagine, nor perform the actions of memory. For if whilst the same abideth in the body, it cannot see being deprived of eyes: neither can it discourse or remember, if the brain be inflamed. To say then, that the reasonable soul, severed from the body, cannot discourse, because it hath no brain, is a folly very great, the which is proved by the self history of Abraham. Son remember, that thou hast enjoyed good things in thy life time, and Lazarus likewise evil, but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented. And besides all this, there is placed betwixt you and us, a great Chaos, in sort that those who would pass from hence to you, cannot, nor from you to us. And he said, I pray thee then O father, that thou wilt send to my father's house, for I have five brothers, that he may yield testimony unto them, so as they come not also to this place of torments. Whence I conclude, that as these two souls discoursed between themselves, and the rich glutton remembered, that he had five brothers in his father's house, and Abraham brought to his remembrance, the delicious life which he had lived in the world, together with Lazarus penance, and this without use of the brain: so also the souls can see without bodily eyes, hear without ears, taste without a tongue, smell without nostrils, and touch without sinews and without flesh, and that much better beyond comparison. The like may be understood of the devil, for he partaketh the same nature with the reasonable soul.  
All these doubts, the soul of the rich glutton will very well resolve: of whom S. Luke recounteth, that being in hell, he lifted up his eyes, and beheld Lazarus, who was in Abraham's bosom, and with a loud voice said: Father Abraham, have mercy on me, send Lazarus, that he may dip the point of his finger in water, and cool my tongue, for I am tormented in this flame. Out of the passed doctrine, and out of that which is there red, we gather, that the fire of hell burneth the souls, and is material as this of ours, and that the same annoyed the rich glutton and the other souls (by God's ordinance) with his heat, and that if Lazarus had carried to him a pitcher of fresh water, he should have taken great refreshment thereof: and the reason is very plain, for if that soul could not endure to abide in the body, through excessive heat of the Fever, and when the same drank fresh water, the soul felt refreshment, why may not we conceive the like, when the soul is united with the flames of the fire infernal? The rich Gluttons lifting up of his eyes, his thirsty tongue, & Lazarus finger, are all names of the powers of the soul, that so the scriptures might express them. Those who walk not in this path, and ground not themselves on natural philosophy, utter a thousand follies: but yet hence it cannot be concluded, that if the reasonable soul partake grief and sorrow (for that his nature is altered by contrary qualities) therefore the same is corruptible or mortal: For ashes, though they be compounded of the four elements, and of action and power: yet there is no natural agent in the world, which can corrupt them, or take from them, the qualities that are agreeable to their nature. The natural temperature of ashes, we all know to be cold and dry, but though we cast them never so much into the fire, they will not lose their radical coldness which they enjoy: and albeit they remain 100000. years in the water, it is impossible that (being taken thence) they hold any natural moisture of their own: and yet for all this, we cannot but grant that by fire they receive heat, and by water moisture. But these two qualities are superficial in the ashes, and endure a small time in the subject; for taken from the fire, forthwith they become cold, and from the water, they abide not moist an hour.  
But there is offered a doubt, in this discourse and reasoning of the rich Glutton with Abraham, and that is, How the soul of Abraham was endowed with better reason, than that of the rich man: it being alleged before, that all reasonable souls (issued out of the body) are of equal perfection and knowledge? whereto we may answer in one of these two manners. The first is, that the Science and knowledge, which the soul purchaseth, whilst it remaineth in the body, is not lost when a man dieth, but rather groweth more perfect, for he is freed from some errors. The soul of Abraham, departed out of this life, replenished with wisdom, and with many revelations, and secrets which God communicated unto him, as his very friend: but that of the rich glutton, it behoved that of necessity it should departed away ignorant: first, by reason of his sin, which createth ignorance in a man: and next, for that riches herein work a contrary effect unto poverty: this giveth a man wit, as hereafter we may well prove, and prosperity reaveth it away. There may also another answer be given after our doctrine, and it is this, that the matter of which these two souls disputed, was school divinity: For to know whether abiding in hell, there were place for mercy, and whether Lazarus might pass unto hell, and whether it were convenient to send a deceased person to the world, who should give notice to the living, of the torments which the damned there endured; are all school-points, whose decision appertaineth to the understanding, as hereafter I will make proof, and amongst the first qualities, there is none which so much garboileth this power, as excessive heat, with which the rich Glutton was so tormented: But the soul of Abraham, made his abode in a place most temperate, where it enjoyed great delight and refreshment: and therefore it bred no great wonder, that the same was better able to dispute. I concluding then that the reasonable soul, and the devil, in their operations, use the service of material qualities, and that by some they rest aggrieved, and by other some they receive contentment. And for this reason, they covet to make abode in some places, and fly from some other, and yet notwithstanding are not corruptible.   

CHAP. VIII.  
How there may be assigned to every difference of wit, his Science, which shallbe correspondent to him in particular: and that which is repugnant and contrary, be abandoned.  
ALl arts (saith Cicero) are placed under certain universal principles, which being learned with study and travail, finally we so grow to attain unto them: but the art of poesy is in this so special, as if God or nature make not a man a Poet: little avails it, to deliver him the precepts and rules of versifying. For which cause he said thus, The studying and learning of other matters consisteth in precepts and in arts: but a Poet taketh the course of nature itself, and is stirred up by the forces of the mind, and as it were inflamed by a certain divine spirit. But herein Cicero swerved from reason: for verily there is no Science or Art, devised in the commonwealth, which if a man wanting capacity for himself to apply, he shall reap any profit thereof; albeit he toil all the days of his life in the precepts and rules of the same: But if he apply himself to that which is agreeable with his natural ability, we see that he will learn in two days. The like we say of Poesy without any difference, that if he who hath any answerable nature, give himself to make verses, he performeth the same with great perfection, and if otherwise, he shall never be good Poet.  
This being so, it seemeth now high time, to learn by way of Art what difference of Science, is answerable in particular, to what difference of wit: to the end, that every one may understand with distinction (after he is acquainted with his own nature) to what Art he hath a natural disposition. The Arts and Sciences which are gotten by the memory, are these following, Latin, Grammar, or of whatsoever other language, the Theoric of the laws, Divinity positive, Cosmography, and Arithmetic.  
Those which appertain to the understanding, are School divinity, the Theoric of Physic, logic, natural and moral Philosophy, and the practic of the laws, which we term pleading. From a good imagination, spring all the Arts and Sciences, which consist in figure, correspondence, harmony, and proportion: such are Poetry, Eloquence, Music, and the skill of preaching: the practice of Physic, the Mathematicals, Astrology, and the governing of a Commonwealth, the art of Warfare, Painting, drawing, writing, reading, to be a man gracious, pleasant, neat, witty in managing, & & all the engines & devices which artificers make: besides a certain special gift, whereat the vulgar marveleth, and that is, to indite divers matters, unto four, who writ together, and yet all to be penned in good sort. Of all this, we cannot make evident demonstration, nor prove every point by itself: For it were an infinite piece of work, notwithstanding by making proof thereof in three or four Sciences, the same reason will afterwards prevail for the rest.  
In the catalogue of Sciences, which we said appertained to the memory, we placed the latin tongue, and such other, as all the nations in the world do speak: the which no wise man will deny: for tongues were devised by men, that they might communicate amongst themselves, and express one to another their conceits, without that in them there lie hid any other mystery or natural principles: for that the first devisers agreed together, and after their best liking, (as Aristotle saith) framed the words, and gave to every each his signification. From hence arose so great a number of words, and so many manners of speech so far besides rule and reason, that if a man had not a good memory, it were impossible to learn them with any other power. How little the understanding and the imagination make for the purpose, to learn languages and manners of speech, is easily proved by childhood, which being the age wherein man most wanteth these two powers, yet (saith Aristotle) children learn any language more readily than elder men, though these are endowed with a better discourse of reason. And without farther speech, experience plainly proveth this, for so much as we see, that if a Biscane of 30. or 40. years age, come to dwell in Castilia, he will never learn this language: but if he be but a boy, within two or three years you would think him born in Toledo. The same befalls in the latin tongue, and in those of all the rest of the world: for all languages hold one self consideration. Then if in the age when memory chief reigneth, and the understanding and the imagination least, languages are better learned, than when there grows defect of memory, & an increase of understanding, it falls out apparent that they are purchased by the memory, and by none other power. Languages (saith Aristotle) cannot be gathered out by reason, nor consist in discourse or disputations, for which cause, it is necessary to hear the word from another, and the signification which it beareth, and to keep the same in mind, and so he proveth that if a man be borne deaf, it follows of necessity that he be also dumb, for he cannot hear from another, the articulation of the names, nor the signification which was given them by the first deviser.  
That languages are at pleasure, and a conceit of men's brains, and nought else, is plainly proved; for in them all, may the sciences be taught, and in each is to be said and expressed, that which by the other is inferred. Therefore none of the grave authors attended the learning of strange tongues, thereby to deliver their conceits: but the Greeks' wrote in Greek, the Romans in Latin, the Hebrues in the Hebrew language, and the moors in Arabic, and so do I in my Spanish, because I know this better than any other The Romans as lords of the world, finding it was necessary to have one common language, by which all nations might have commerce together, and themselves be able to hear & understand such as came to demand justice, and things appertaining to their government, commanded that in all places of there empire their should schools be kept, where the Latin tongue might be taught, and so this usage hath endured even to our time.  
Schoole-divinitie, it is a matter certain that it appertaineth to the understanding, presupposing that the operations of this power, are to distinguish, conclude, discourse, judge, & make choice; for nothing is done in this faculty, which is not to doubt for inconveniences, to answer with distinction, and against the answer to conclude that, which is gathered in good consequence, and to return to replication, until the understanding find where to settle. But the greatest proof which in this case may be made, is to give to understand with how great difficulty the latin tongue is joined with School divinity, and how ordinarily it falleth not out, that one self man is a good latinist, and a profound scholar: at which effect some curious heads, who have lighted hereon, much marveling procured to search out the cause from whence the same might spring, and by their conceit, found that School divinity, being written in an easy and common language, and the great latinists, having accustomed their ear, to the well sounding and fine style of Cicero: they cannot apply themselves to this other. But well should it fall out for the latinists, if this were the cause: For, forcing their hearing by use, they should meet with a remedy for this infirmity: but to speak truth, it is rather an headache than an ear-sore. Such as are skilful in the latin tongue, it is necessary that they have a great memory: for otherwise, they can never become so perfect in a tongue which is not theirs: and because a great and happy memory is as it were contrary to a great and high raised understanding, in one subject, where the one is placed, the other is chased away.  
Hence remaineth it, that he who hath not so deep, and lofty an understanding (a power whereto appertaineth, to distinguish, conclude, discourse, judge, and choose) cannot soon attain the skill of School divinity. Let him that will not allow this reason for currant payment, read S. Thomas, Scot, Durand, and Caietane, who are the principal in this faculty, and in them he shall find many excellent points, indited and written, in a style very easy and common. And this proceeded from none other cause, than that these grave authors, had from their childhood a feeble memory, for profiting in the latin tongue. But coming to logic, metaphysic, and School divinity, they reaped that great fruit, which we see, because they had great understanding.  
I can speak of a school divine (and many other can verify the same, that knew and conversed with him) who being a principal man in this faculty: not only spoke not finely, nor with well shaped sentences, in imitation of Cicero, but whilst he read in a chair, his scholars noted in him, that he had less than a mean knowledge in the latin tongue: Therefore they counseled him (as men ignorant of this doctrine) that he should secretly, steal some hour of the day from School divinity, and employ the same in reading of Cicero. Who knowing this counsel to proceed from his good friends, not only procured to remedy it privily, but also publicly, after he had red the matter of the trinity, & how the divine word might take flesh, he meant to hear a lecture of the latin tongue, and it fell out a matter worthy consideration, that in the long time while he did so, he not only learned nothing of new, but grew well-near, to lose that little latin which he had before, and so at last was driven to read in the vulgar. Pius the fourth, inquiring what divines were of most special note at the council of Trent, he was told of a most singular Spanish divine, whose solutions, answers, arguments, and distinctions, were worthy of admiration: the Pope therefore, desirous to see and know so rare a man: sent word unto him, that he should come to Rome, & render him account of what was done in the Council. He came, and the Pope did him many favours, amongst the rest, commanded him to be covered, and taking him by the hand, led him walking to Castle S. Angelo, & speaking very good latin, showed him his devise, touching certain fortifications, which he was then about to make the Castle stronger, ask his opinion in some particulars: but he answered the Pope so intricately, for that he could not speak latin, that the Spanish Ambassador, who at that time was Don jews de Requesens, great Commander of Castilia, was feign to step forth to grace him with his latin, and to turn the Pope's discourse into another matter. Finally, the Pope said to his Chamberlains, it was not possible that this man had so much skill in divinity, as they made report, seeing he had so little knowledge in the latin tongue. But if as he proved him in this tongue, which is a work of memory, and in platforming, and building, which belong to the imagination, so he had tried him in a matter appertaining to the understanding, he would have uttered divine considerations. In the Catalogue of Sciences, which appertain to the imagination, we placed poetry amongst the first, and that not by chance nor for want of consideration, but thereby to give notice, how far off, those who have a special gift in poetry, are from understanding. For we shall find that the self difficulty, which the latin tongue holdeth in uniting with School divinity, is also found (yea and beyond comparison far greater) between this faculty, and the art of versifying: and the same is so contrary to the understanding, that by the self reason, for which man is likely to prove singular therein, he may take his leave of all the other sciences, which appertain to this power, and also to the latin tongue through the contrariety, which a good imagination beareth to a great memory.  
For the first of these two, Aristotle found not the reason, but yet confirmed mine opinion by experience, saying: Mark, a Citizen of Siracusa, was best Poet, when he lost his understanding, and the cause is, for that the difference of the imagination, to which Poetry belongeth, is that which requireth three degrees of heat, and this quality so extended (as we have before expressed) breeds an utter loss of the understanding, the which was observed by the same Aristotle. For he affirmeth, that this Mark the Siracusane, growing to more temperature, enjoyed a better understanding, but yet he attained not to versify so well, through default of heat, with which, this difference of the imagination worketh. And this, Cicero wanted when going about to describe in verse, the heroical actions of his consulship, and the happy birth of Rome, in that she was governed by him: he said thus, O fortunatam natam me consul Romam. For which cause, Iwenall not conceiving, that to a man endowed with so rare a wit, as Cicero, poetry was a matter repugnant, did Satirically nip him, saying, If thou hadst rehearsed the Philippics against Marck Antony, answerable to the tune of so bad a verse, it should not have cost thy life.  
But worse did Plato understand the same, when he said, that Poetry was no human Science, but a divine revelation. For if the Poets were not ravished besides themselves, or full of God, they could not make nor utter any thing worthy regard. And he proveth it by a reason, avouching, that whilst a man abideth in his sound judgement, he cannot versify. But Aristotle reproveth him, for affirming that the art of Poetry is not an ability of man, but a revelation of God: And he admitteth, that a wise man, and who is free possessed of his judgement, cannot be a poet: and the reason is, because where there resteth much understanding, it behoveth of force, that there befall want of the imagination, whereto appertaineth the Art of versifying: which may the more apparently be proved, knowing that Socrates after he had learned the art of Poetry, for all his precepts and rules, could not make so much as one verse: and yet notwithstanding, he was by the oracle of Apollo adjudged the wisest man of the world.  
I hold it then for certain, that the boy who will prove of a notable vain for versifying, and to whom, upon every sleight consideration, consonances offer themselves, shall ordinarily incur hazard not to learn well the Latin tongue, Logic, Philosophy, Physic, Schoole-divinitie, and the other arts and sciences, which appertain to the understanding, and to the memory. For which cause, we see by experience, that if we charge such a boy, to form a nominative without book, he will not learn it in two or three days: but if there be a leaf of paper written in verse, to be recited in any comedy, in two turns, he fixeth them in his memory. These lose themselves by reading books of chivalry: Orlando, Boccace, Diana of Monte maggior, and such other devices: for all these are works of the imagination. What shall we say then of the harmony of the Organs, and of the singing men of the Chapel, whose wits are most unprofitable for the latin tongue, and for all other Sciences, which appertain to the understanding and to the memory? the like reason serveth in playing on instruments, and all sorts of music. By these three examples, which we have yielded, of the Latin, of Schoole-divinitie, and of Poetry, we shall understand this doctrine to be true, and that we have duly made this partition, albeit we make not the like mention in the other arts.  
Writing also, discovereth the imagination, and so we see, that few men of good understanding, do write a fair hand, and to this purpose I have noted many examples: and specially I have known a most learned school-divine, who shaming at himself to see how bad a hand he wrote, durst not write a letter to any man, nor to answer those which were sent to him: so as he determined with himself, to get a Scrivener secretly to his house, who should teach him to frame a reasonable letter that might pass, and having for many days taken pains herein, it proved lost labour, and he reaped no profit thereby. Wherefore, as tired out, he forsook the practice: & the teacher, who had taken him in hand, grew astonished, to see a man so learned in his profession, to be so untoward for writing. But myself, who rest well assured that writing is a work of the imagination, held the same for a natural effect. And if any man be desirous to see and note it, let him consider the Scholars, who get their livings in the Universities, by copying out of writings in good form, and he shall find, that they can little skill of Grammar, Logic, and Philosophy, and if they study Physic or Divinity, they fish nothing near the bottom. The boy then, who with his pen can trick a horse to the life, and a man in good shape, and can make a good pair of it serves little to employ him in any sort of learning, but will do best, to set him to some painter, who by art may bring forward his nature.  
To read well and with readiness, discovereth also a certain spice of the imagination, and if the same be very effectual, it booteth little to spend much time at his book, but shall do better, to set him to get his living by reading of processes. Hear a thing noteworthy, offereth itself, and that is, that the difference of the imagination, which maketh men eloquent and pleasant, is contrary to that, which is behooveful for a man to read with facility, wherethrough none, who is promptwitted, can learn to read without stumbling, and putting too somewhat of his own head.  
To play well at Primero, and to face and vie, and to hold and give over when time serveth, and by conjectures to know his adversaries game, and the skill of discarding, are all works of the imagination. The like we say of playing at Cent, & at Triumph, though not so farforth as the Primero of Almaigne, and the same, not only maketh proof & demonstration of the difference of the wit, but also discovereth all the virtues and vices in a man. For at every moment, there are offered occasions in this play, by which a man shall discover, what he would do in matters of great importance, if opportunity served.  
Chess-play, is one of the things, which best discovereth the imagination: for he that makes ten or twelve fair draughts one after another on the Chessboard, gives an evil token of profiting in the Sciences which belong to the understanding, and to the memory, unless it fall out, that he make an union of two or three powers, as we have already noted. And if a very learned school-divine (of mine acquaintance) had been skilled in this doctrine, he should have got notice of a matter, which made him very doubtful. He used to play often with a servant of his, and lighting mostly on the loss, told him, much moved: Sirrah, how comes it to pass, that thou who canst skill neither of Latin, nor Logic, nor Divinity, though thou hast studied it, yet beatest me that am full of Scot and S. Thomas? Is it possible that thou shouldst have a better wit than I? verily I cannot believe it, except the devil reveal unto thee what draughts thou shouldst make: and the mystery was, that he had great understanding, with which he attained the delicacies of Scot and Thomas, but wanted that difference of imagination, which serveth for Chess-play, whereas his servant, had an ill understanding, and a bad memory, but a good imagination. The Scholars, who have their books well righted, and their chamber well dressed, and clean kept, every thing in his due place & order, have a certain difference of imagination, very contrary to the understanding, and to the memory.  
Such a like wit, have men who go neat, and handsomely appareled, who look all about their cape for a mote, & take dislike at any one wry plait of their garment, this (assuredly) springeth from their imagination. For if a man, that had no skill in versifying, nor towardliness thereunto, chance to fall in love, suddenly (saith Plato) he becomes a Poet, and very trim and handsome: for love heateth and drieth his brain, and these are qualities which quicken the imagination: the like (as Juvenal noteth) anger doth effect, which passion heateth also the brain:  Anger makes verse, if nature but deny. 
Gracious talkers, and imitaters, and such as can hold at bay, have a certain difference of imagination, very contrary to the understanding, and to the memory. For which cause they never prove learned in Grammar, Logic, Schoole-divinitie, Physic, or the laws. If then they be witty in managing, toward for every matter they take in hand, ready in speech, and answering to the purpose: these are fit to serve in Courts of justice, for solicitors, attorneys, merchants, and factors to buy and sell, burr not for learning. Herein the vulgar is much deceived seeing them so ready at all hands, and them seemeth, that if such gave themselves to learning, they would prove notable fellows: but in substance there is no wit more repugnant to matters of learning, than these. Children that are slow of speech, have a moistness in their tongue and also in their brain, but that wearing away, in process of time they become very eloquent, and great talkers, through the great memory which they get when that moisture is tempered.  
This we know by the things tofore rehearsed, befell that famous Orator Demosthenes, of whom we said, that Cicero marveled how being so blunt of speech when he was a boy, growing greater he became so eloquent. Children also, who have a good voice, and warble in the throat, are most untoward for all Sciences, and the reason is, for that they are cold and moist. The which two qualities, being united, we said before, that they breed a damage in the reasonable part. Scholars, who learn their lesson in such manner as their master delivereth it, and so recite the same, it shows a token of a good memory, but the understanding shall abye the bargain. There are offered in this doctrine, some problems and doubts: the answer whereunto, will perhaps yield more light, to conceive, that what we have propounded, doth carry truth. The first is, whence it groweth that great Latinists are more arrogant and presumptuous on their knowledge, than men very well skilled in that kind of learning which appertaineth to the understanding? in sort, that the proverb, to let us know what manner of fellow a Grammarian is, saith; That a Grammarian is arrogancy itself. The second is, whence it cometh that the Latin tongue, is so repugnant to the Spanish capacities, and so natural to the French, Italian, Dutch, English, and other northernly nations, as we see in their works, which by their good Latin phrase, straightways prove the author to have been a stranger, and by the barbarousness and ill composition, we know the same for a Spaniards. The third is, for what reason the things that are spoken and written in the Latin tongue, sound better, carry a more loftiness, and have greater delicacy, than any other language how good soever? we having avouched before, that all languages, are nought else, but a conceit at pleasure, of those who first devised them, without holding any foundation in nature. The fourth doubt is, seeing all Sciences, which appertain to the understanding, are written in Latin, how it can frame, that such as want memory, may read and study them in those books, whilst the Latin is (by this reason) so repugnant unto them.  
To the first problem we answer, that to know whether a man have defect of understanding, there falls out no token more certain, than to see him lofty, big looked, presumptuous, desirous of honour, standing on terms, and full of ceremonies: And the reason is, for that all these be works, of a difference of the imagination, which requireth no more but one degree of heat, wherewith the much moisture (which is requisite for the memory) accordeth very sitly: for it wanteth force to resolve the same. Contrariwise it is an infallible token, that if a man be naturally lowly, despiser of himself, and his own matters, and that not only he vaunteth not, nor praiseth himself, but feels displeasure at the commendations given him by others, and taketh shame of places and ceremonies pertaining to honour, such a one may well be pointed at for a man of great understanding, but of small imagination and memory. I said naturally lowly: for if he be so by cunning, this is no certain sign. Hence it cometh, that as the Grammarians are men of great memory, and make an union with this difference of the imagination: so it is of force, that they fail in understanding, and be such as the proverb paints them forth.  
To the second problem may be answered, that Galen inquiring out the wit of men by way of the temperarature of the region where they inhabit, saith, that those who make abode under the North, have all of them want of understanding: but those who are seated between the North and the burned Zone, are of great wisdom, Which situation, answereth directly to our region. And verily so it is: for Spain is not so cold as the places subjecteth to the Pole, nor so hot as the burned Zone. The same sentence doth Aristotle produce, demanding, for what cause, such as inhabit very cold regions partake less understanding than those who are born in the hotter, and in the answer he very homely handles the Flemish, Dutch, English, and French, saying that their wits are like those of drunkards: for which cause they cannot search out, nor understand the nature of things, & this is occasioned by the much moisture, wherewith their brain is replenished, and the other parts of the body: the which is known by the whiteness of the face, and the golden colour of the hair, and by that it is a miracle, to find a Dutchman bald: and above this they are generally great, and of tall stature, through the much moisture, which breedeth increase of flesh. But in the Spaniards, we discern the quite contrary: they are somewhat brown, they have black hair, of mean stature, and for the most part, we see them bald, Which disposition (saith Galen) groweth, for that the brain is hot and dry. And if this be true, it behoveth of force, that they be endowed with a bad memory, and a good understanding, but the Dutchmen possess a great memory, & small understanding. For which cause, the one can no skill of Latin, and the other easily learn the same. The reason which Aristotle alleged, to prove the slender understanding of those who dwell under the North, is, that the much cold of the country calleth back the natural heat inward, by counterposition, and suffereth not the same to spread abroad: for which cause, it partaketh much moisture, and much heat, and these unite a great memory for the languages, and a good imagination; with which they make clocks, bring the water to Toledo, devise engines, and works of rare skill, which the Spaniards through defect of imagination cannot frame themselves unto: But set them to Logic, to Philosophy, to Schoole-divinitie, to Physic, or to the Laws, and beyond comparison a Spanish wit, with his barbarous terms, will deliver more rare points than a stranger. For if you take from them this fineness and acquaint phrase of writing, there is nothing in them of rare invention or exquisite choice.  
For confirmation of this doctrine, Galen said that in Scythia, one only man became a Philosopher: but in Athens there were many such: as if he should say, that in Scythia, which is a Province under the North, it grew a miracle to see a Philosopher, but in Athens they were all borne wise and skilful. But albeit Philosophy and the other Sciences rehearsed by us, be repugnant to the Northern people; yet they profit well in the Mathematicals, and in Astrology, because they have a good imagination.  
The answer of the third problem dependeth upon a question, much hammered between Plato & Aristotle: the one saith that there are proper names, which by their nature carry signification of things, and that much wit is requisite to devise them. And this opinion is favoured by the divine scripture, which affirmeth that Adam gave every of those things which God set before him, the proper name that best was fitting for them. But Aristotle will not grant, that in any tongue there can be found any name, or manner of speech, which can signify aught of it own nature, for that all names are devised and shaped after the conceit of men. Whence we see by experience, that wine hath above 60. names, and bread as many, in every language his, & of none we can avouch that the same is natural and agreeable thereunto, for then all in the world would use but that. But for all this, the sentence of Plato is truer: for put case that the first devisers feigned the words at their pleasure and will, yet was the same by a reasonable instinct, communicated with the ear, with the nature of the thing, & with the good grace and well sounding of the pronunciation, not making the words over short or long, nor enforcing an unseemly framing of the mouth in time of utterance, settling the accent in his convenient place, and observing the other conditions, which a tongue should possess, to be fine, and not barbarous.  
Of this self opinion with Plato, was a Spanish gentleman; who made it his pastime to write books of chivalry, because he had a certain kind of imagination, which enticeth men to feigning and lease. Of him it is reported, that being to bring into his works a furious Giant, he went many days devising a name, which might in all points be answerable to his fierceness: neither could he light upon any, until playing one day at cards in his friend's house, he heard the owner of the house say, Ho sirrah, boy, traquitantoes, the Gentleman so soon as he 
Traquitantos signifieth, Bring hither tokens, or counters.  heard this name Traquitantoes, suddenly he took the same for a word of full sound in the ear, and without any longer looking arose, saying; gentlemen I will play no more, for many days are past sithence I have gone seeking out a name, which might fit well with a furious Giant, whom I bring into those volumes which I now am making, and I could not find the same, until I came to this house, where ever I receive all courtesy. The curiosity of this gentleman in calling the Giant Traquitantos, had also those first men, who devised the Latin tongue, in that they found out a language of so good sound to the ear. Therefore we need not marvel that the things which are spoken and written in Latin, do sound so well, and in other tongues so ill: for their first inventors were barbarous.  
The last doubt I have been forced to allege, for satisfying of divers who have stumbled thereon, though the solution be very easy: for those who have great understanding are not utterly deprived of memory, in as much as if they wanted the same, it would fall out impossible that the understanding could discourse or frame reasons; for this power is that which keepeth in hand the matter and the fantasies, whereon it behoveth to use speculation. But for that the same is weak of three degrees of perfection, whereto men may attain in the Latin tongue (namely, to understand, to write, and to speak the same perfectly) it can hardly pass the first without fault and stumbling.   

CHAP. IX.  
How it may be proved that the eloquence and fineness of speech cannot find place in men of great understanding.  
ONe of the graces by which the vulgar is best persuaded, and thinketh 
Cicero saith that the honour of man is to have wit, and of wit to be applied to eloquence.  that a man hath much knowledge and wisdom, is, to hear him speak with great eloquence, to have a smooth tongue, plenty of sweet and pleasant words, and to allege many examples fit for the purpose that is in hand: but this (verily) springeth from an union, which the memory maketh with the imagination, in a degree and measure of heat, that cannot resolve the moisture of the brain, and serveth to lift up the 
This is recounted by Plato in his dialogue of knowledge, and in his banquet.  figures, and cause them to boil, wherethrough are discovered many conceits and points to be uttered. In this union it is impossible that discourse may be found; for we have already said and proved heretofore, that this power greatly abhorreth heat, and moisture cannot support it. Which doctrine, if the Athenians had known, they would not so much have marveled to see so wise a man as Socrates not to have the gift of utterance; of whom, those who understood how great his knowledge was, said, that his words & his sentences, were like a wooden chest knobby and nothing trimmed on the outside, but that in opening the same, within it held lineaments and portraitures of rare admiration. In the same ignorance rest they, who attempting to render a reason of Aristotle's bad style and obscureness, said: That of set purpose, & because he would that his works should carry authority, he wrote under riddles, & with so slender ornament of words, and simple manner of deliverance. And if we consider also the so harsh proceeding 
Cicero praising the eloquence of Plato, said: That if jupiter should have spoken Greek, he would have spoken as Plato did.  of Plato, and the briefness with which he writeth, the obscurity of his reasons, and the ill placing of the parts of his tale, we shall find that nought else save this, occasioned the same. For such also we find the works of Hypocrates, the thefts which he committeth of Nouns and Verbs, the ill disposition of his sentences, and the weak foundation of his reasons, to stuff out the empty places of his doctrine. What will you more? unless, that when he would yield a very particular reckoning to his friend Damagetus, how Artaxerxses king of Persia, had sent for him, promising him as much gold and silver as he list himself, and to make him one of the great ones of his kingdom: having plenty of answers to so many demands, he writ only thus; The king of Persia hath sent for me, not knowing that with me the respect of wisdom is greater than that of gold, Farewell.  
Which matter, if it had passed through the hands of any other man of good imagination and memory, a whole leaf of paper would not have sufficed to set it forth.  
But who would have been so hardy to allege for the purpose of this doctrine, the example of S. Paul, and to affirm, that he was a man of great understanding and little memory, and that with these his forces, he could not skill of tongues, nor deliver his mind in them polishedly and with gracefulness, if himself had not so said; I reckon not myself to have done less than the greatest Apostles, for though I be ignorant of speech, yet am I not so in understanding: as if he should say; I confess that I have not the gift of utterance, but for science and knowledge, none of the greatest Apostles goeth beyond me. Which difference of wit was so appropriate to the preaching of the Gospel, that choice could not be made of a better, for, that a preacher should be eloquent, and have great furniture of quaint terms, is not a matter convenient: for the force of the Orators of those days, appeared in making the hearers repute things false for true; and what the vulgar held for good and behoveful, they, using the precepts of their art, persuaded the contrary, and maintained that it was better to be poor than rich, sick than whole, fond than wise, and other points manifestly repugnant to the opinion of the vulgar. For which cause the Hebrues termed them Geragnin, that is to say, Deceivers. Of the same opinion was Cato the more, and held the abode of these in Rome for very dangerous, in as much as the forces of the Roman empire, were grounded on arms: & they began then to persuade that the Roman youth should abandon those, and give themselves to this kind of wisdom; therefore (in brief) he procured them to be banished out of Rome, forbidding them ever to return again. If God then had sought out an eloquent preacher, who should have used ornament of speech, & that he had entered into Athens or Rome, avouching that in Jerusalem the jews had crucified a man, who was very God, and that he died of his own accord to redeem sinners, and rose again the third day, and ascended into heaven, where he now sitteth; what would the hearers have thought, save that these things were some of those follies and vanities which the Orators were wont to persuade by the force of their art? For which cause, S. Paul said: For Christ sent me not to baptize, but to preach the gospel, and that not in wisdom of words, lest the cross of Christ might prove in vain. The wit of S. Paul was appropriate to this service, for he had a large discourse to prove in the synagogues and amongst the Gentiles, That jesus Christ was the Messiah promised in the law, and that it was bootless to look for any other: and herewithal he was of slender memory, and therefore he could not skill to speak with ornament and sweet and well relished terms, and this was that which was behoveful for preaching of the gospel. I will not maintain (for all this) that S. Paul had not the gift of tongues, but that he could speak all languages as he did his own, neither am I of opinion, that to defend the name of Christ, the forces of his great understanding sufficed, if there had not been joined therewithal the mean of grace, and a special aid which God to that purpose bestowed upon him: it sufficeth me only to say That supernatural gifts work better, when they light upon an apt disposition, than if a man were of himself untoward and blockish. Hereto alludeth that doctrine of S. Jerome, which is found in his proem upon Esay and Hieremie; where ask what the cause is, that it being one self holy-ghost which spoke by the mouth of Hieremie and of Esay, one of them propounded the matters which he wrote with so great elegancy, and Hieremie scarcely witted how to speak: to which doubt he answereth, that the holy-ghost apply itself to the natural manner of proceeding of each Prophet, without that his grace varrieth their nature, or teacheth them the language wherein they are to publish their prophesy. Therefore we must understand, that Esay was a noble gentleman brought up in court, and in the city of Jerusalem, and for this cause, had ornament & polishedness of speech; But jeremy was borne and reared in a village of Jerusalem, called Anathochites, blunt and rude in behaviour, as a country person, and of such a style the holy ghost used the service in the prophecy which he commanded unto him. The same may be said of S. Paul's Epistles, that the holy Ghost dwelled in him, when he wrote them, to the end he might not err, but the language and manner of speech was S. Paul's natural, applied to the doctrine which he wrote; for the truth of Shool-divinitie abhorreth many words. But the practice of languages, and the ornament and polishment of speech may very well be joined with positive divinity: for this faculty appertaineth to the memory, and is nought else save a mass of words and catholic sentences, taken out of the holy doctors, and the divine Scripture, and preserved in this power, as the Grammarian doth with the flowers of the Poets, Virgil, Horace, Terence, and other Latin authors whom he readeth: who meeting occasion to rehearse them, he comes out straightways with a shred of Cicero, or Quintilian, whereby he makes his hearers know what he is able to do.  
Those that are endowed with this union of the imagination and of the memory, and travail in gathering the fruit of whatsoever hath been said or written in their profession, and serve themselves therewith at convenient occasions, with great ornament of words & gracious fashions of speech, for that so many things are already found out in all the Sciences, it seemeth to them who know not this doctrine, that they are of great profoundness; whereas in truth they hold much of the Ass: for if you grow to try them in the foundations of that which they allege and affirm, they then discover their wants. And the reason is, because so great a flowing of speech cannot be united with the understanding, whereto appertaineth to search out the bottom of the truth. Of these the divine scripture said, Where there is plenty of words, there reigneth great scarcity: as if he had said, that a man of many words ordinarily wanteth understanding and wisdom.  
Those who are endowed with this union of the imagination and memory, enter with great courage to interpret the divine scripture, it seeming to them, that because they understand well the Hebrew, Greek and Latin tongues, they have the way made smooth to gather out the very spirit of the letter: but verily they ruinated themselves; first, because the words of the divine text and his manners of speech, have many other significations, besides those which Cicero understood in Latin. And then because their understanding is defective, which power verifieth whether a sense be Catholic or depraved: and this is it which may make choice by the grace supernatural, of two or three senses, that are gathered out of the letter, which is most true and catholic.  
Beguilings (saith Plato) never befall in things unlike and very different, but when many things meet which carry near resemblance, For if we set before a sharp sight, a little salt, sugar, meal, and lime, all well pounded and beaten to powder; and each one severally by itself: what should he do who wanted taste, if with his eyes he should be set to discern every of these powders from other without erring? saying; this is salt, this sugar, this meal, and this lime. For my part I believe he would be deceived through the great resemblance, which these things have between themselves. But if there were a heap of salt, one of sugar, one of corn, one of earth, and one of stones, it is certain he would not be deceived in giving each of these heaps his name, though his sight were dim, for each is of a divers figure. The same we see befalleth every day in the senses and spirits, which the divines give to the holy scripture, of which two or three being looked on, at first sight they all carry a show to be Catholic, and to agree well with the letter, but yet in truth are not so, neither the holy Ghost so meant. To choose the best of these senses, and to refuse the bad, it is a thing assured that the divine emploieth not his memory not his imagination, but his understanding. Wherefore I avouch that the positive divine aught to confer with the Schoolman, and to inquire at his hands, that of these senses he may choose that which shall appear to be soundest, unless he will be sent to the holy house. For this cause do heretics so much abhor Schoole-divinitie, and learn to banish it out of the world: for by distinguishing, inferring, framing of reasons, and judging, we attain to understand the truth, and to discover falsehood.   

CHAP. X.  
How it is proved that the Theoric of Divinity appertaineth to the understanding, and preaching (which is his practice) to the imagination.  
IT is a problem often demanded, not only by folk learned & wise, but also the vulgar will put in their oar, and every day bring in question, For what cause a divine being a great man in the Schools, sharp in disputing, ready in answering, and in writing and lecturing of rare learning; yet getting up into the pulpit, cannot skill of preaching: and contrariwise if one prove a gallant preacher, eloquent, gracious, and that draws the people after him; it seems a miracle if he be deeply seen in Schoole-divinitie. Wherefore they admit not for a sound consequence: such a one is a great school-divine; therefore he will prove a good preacher: and contrariwise they will not grant; he is a good preacher, therefore he hath skill in Schoole-divinitie. For to reverse the one and other of these consequences, there may be alleged for each, more instances than are hairs on our head.  
No man hitherto hath been able to answer this demand, save after the ordinary guise, uz. to attribute the whole to God, and to the distribution of his graces: and to my liking they do very well, in as much as they know not any more particular occasion thereof. The answer of this doubt (in some sort) is given by us in the foregoing chapter, but not so particularly as is requisite; and it was, that School-divinity appertaineth to the understanding: but now we affirm and will prove that preaching, and his practice, is a work of the imagination. And as it falls out a difficult matter, to join in one self brain a good understanding and much imagination: so likewise it will hardly fall that one self man, be a great school-divine, & a famous preacher: and that School-divinity is a work of the understanding, hath tofore been proved when we proved the repugnancy which it carried to the Latin tongue. For which cause it shall not now be necessary to prove the same anew, only it shall suffice to give to understand, that the grace and delightfulness which good preachers have, whereby they draw their audience unto them, and hold them well pleased, is altogether a work of the imagination, and part thereof of a good memory, and to the end I may better expound myself, and cause it as it were to be felt with the hand, it behoveth first to presuppose that man is a living creature, capable of reason, of company, and of civility, and to the end that his nature might be the more abled by art, the ancient Philosophers devised Logic to teach him how he might frame his reasons with those precepts and rules, how he should define the nature of things, distinguish, divide, conclude, argue, judge, and choose, without which works it grows impossible, that the Artist can go forward: and that he might be companiable and civil; it behoved him to speak, & to give other men to weet the conceits which he framed in his mind. And for that he should not deliver them without disposition and without order: they devised another art which they termed Rhetoric, which by his precepts and rules might beautify the speech with polished words, with fine phrases, and with stirring affections and gracious colours. But as Logic teacheth not a man to discourse and to argue in one science alone; but without difference in all alike: so also Rhetoric instructeth how to speak, in Divinity, in Physic, in skill of the Laws and in all other Sciences and conversations, which men intermeddled withal. In sort, that if we will feign a perfect Logician, or an accomplished Orator, he cannot fall into due consideration unless he be seen in all the Sciences, for they all appertain to his jurisdiction, and in which soever of them, he may exercise his rules without distinction: not as Physic which hath his matter limited whereof it must entreat: and so likewise natural Philosophy, and moral, Metaphysic, Astrology, and the rest: and therefore Cicero said, The Orator wheresoever he abideth, dwelleth in his own. And in another place he affirmeth, in a perfect Orator is found all the knowledge of the Philosophers, and therefore the same Cicero avouched, that there is no art more difficult than that of a perfect Orator: and with more reason he might so have said, if he had known with how great hardness all the Sciences are united in one particular subject.  
Anciently the doctors of the law were adorned with the name of Orator, for the perfection of pleading required the notice & furniture of all the arts in the world, for the laws do judge them all. Now to know the defence reserved for every art by itself, it was necessary to have a particular knowledge of them all; for which cause Cicero said, No man ought to be reputed in the number of orators, who is not well seen in all the arts. But seeing it was impossible to learn all Sciences: first, through the shortness of life, and then because man's wit is so bounded, they let them pass, and of necessity held themselves contented to give credit to the skilful in that art whereof they made profession, and no farther.  
After this manner of defending causes, straightways succeeded the evangelical doctrine, which might have been persuaded by the art of oratory, better than all the Sciences of the world beside, for that the same is the most certain and truest: but Christ our redeemer, charged S. Paul, that he should not preach it with wisdom of words, to the end the Gentiles should not think it was a well couched leasing, as are those which the orators use to persuade by the force of their art. But when the faith had been received, many years after it was allowed to preach with places of Rhetoric, and to use the service of eloquent speech; for that then the inconvenience fell not in consideration, which was extant when S. Paul preached. Yea we see that the preacher reapeth more fruit, who hath the conditions of a perfect orator, and is more haunted than he that wanteth them: and the reason is very plain. For if the ancient orators gave the people to understand things false for true (using those their precepts and rules) more easily shall the christian auditory be drawn, when by art they are persuaded to that which already they understand and believe. Besides that the holy Scripture (after a sort) is all things; and to yield the same a true interpretation, it behoveth to have all the Sciences conformable to that so oft said saw, He sent his damsels to call to the Castle. This fitteth not to be remembered to the preachers of our time, nor to advise them that now they may do it: for their particular study (besides the fruit which they pretend to bring with their doctrine) is to seek out a good text, to whose purpose they may apply many fine sentences taken out of the divine Scripture, the holy doctors, poets, historians, physicians and lawyers, without forbearing any Science, and speaking copiously with quietness and pleasant words; and with all these things they go amplifying and stuffing their matter, an hour or two if need be, Of this saith Cicero the orators of his time made profession: The force of an orator (saith he) and the self art of well speaking, seemeth that it undertaketh and promiseth to speak with copiousness and ornament, of whatsoever matter that shall be propounded. Then if we shall prove that the graces and conditions which a perfect orator ought to have, do all appertain to the imagination and to the memory; we shall also know that the divine, who is endowed with them will be an excellent preacher: but being set to the doctrine of S. Thomas and Scotus can little skill thereof, for that the same is a science belonging to the understanding, in which power, of necessity it holdeth little force.  
What the things be which appertain to the imagination, and by what signs they are to be known, we have heretofore made mention: now we will return to a replication of them, that they may the better be refreshed to the memory. All that which may be termed good figure, good purpose and provision, comes from the grace of the imagination, as are merry jests, resemblances, quips, and comparisons.  
The first thing which a perfect Orator is to go about (having matter under hand) is to seek out arguments and convenient sentences, whereby he may dilate and prove, and that not with all sorts of words, but with such as give a good consonance to the ear: and therefore Cicero said: I take him for an Orator, who can use in his discourses, words well tuning with the ear, and sentences convenient for proof. And this (for certain) appertaineth to the imagination, sithence therein is a consonance of well pleasing words, and a good direction in the sentences.  
The second grace which may not be wanting in a perfect Orator, is to possess much invention, or much reading, for if he rest bound to dilate and confirm any matter whatsoever, with many speeches and sentences applied to the purpose, it behoveth that he have a very swift imagination, and that the same supply (as it were) the place of a brach, to hunt and bring the game to his hand, and when he wants what to say, to devise somewhat as if it were material. For this cause we said before, that heat was an instrument with which the imagination worketh, for this quality lifteth up the figures and maketh them to boil. Here is discovered all that which in them may be seen, and if there fell out nought else to be considered, this imagination hath force not only to compound a figure possible with another, but doth join also (after the order of nature) those which are unpossible, and of them grows to shape mountains of gold, and calves that fly. In am of their own invention, orators may supply the same with much reading, forasmuch as their imagination faileth them: but in conclusion whatsoever books teach, is bounded and limited; and the proper invention is a good fountain which always yieldeth forth new and fresh water. For retaining the things which have been read, it is requisite to possess much memory, and to recite them in the presence of the audience with readiness, cannot be done without the same power. For which cause Cicero said, he shall (in mine opinion) be an orator worthy of so important a name, who with wisdom, with copiousness, and with ornament, can readily deliver every matter that is worth the hearing. Heretofore we have said and proved that wisdom appertaineth to the imagination, copiousness of words and sentences to the memory, ornament and polishment to the imagination: to recite so many things without faltering or stopping, for certain is achieved by the goodness of the memory. To this purpose, Cicero avouched that the good orator ought to rehearse by heart, and not by book. It falleth not besides the matter to let you understand that M. Antony of Lebrissa, through old age grew to such a decay of memory, that he read his Rhetoric lecture to his scholars out of a paper, and for that he was so excellent in his profession, and with good proofs confirmed his points propounded, it passed for currant; but that which might no way be tolerated, was, that where he died suddenly of an apoplexy, the University of Alcala recommended the making of his funeral oration to a famous preacher, who invented and disposed what he had to say the best he could: but time so pressed him, as it grew impossible for him to con the same without book: Wherefore getting up into the pulpit with his paper in his hand, he began to speak in this sort. That which this notable man used to do whilst he read to his scholars, I am now also resouled to do in his imitation; for his death was so sudden, and the commandment to me of making his funeral fermon so late, as I had neither place nor time to study what I might say, nor to con it by heart. Whatsoever I have been able to gather with the travel of this night, I bring here written in this paper, and beseech your masterships that you will hear the same with patience, and pardon my slender memory.  
This fashion of rehearsing with paper in the hand so highly displeased the audience, as they did nought else than smile and murmur: Therefore very well said Cicero, that it behoved to rehearse by heart and not by book. This preacher verily was not endowed with any invention of his own, but was driven to fetch the same out of his books; and to perform this, great study and much memory were requisite. But those who borrow their conceits out of their own brain, stand not in need of study, time, or memory: for they find all ready at their finger's ends. Such will preach to one self audience all their life long without reapeating any point touched in twenty years before; whereas those that want invention, in two Lents cull the flowers out of all the books in a whole world, and ransack to the bottom all the writings that can be gotten; and at the third Lent must go and get themselves a new auditory, except they will hear cast in their teeth, This is the same which you preached unto us in the year before.  
The third property that a good orator ought to have, is that he know how to dispose his matter, placing every word and sentence in his fit room, in sort that the whole may carry an answerable proportion, and one thing bring in another: And to this purpose Cicero said, Disposition is an order and distribution of things which showeth what ought in what places to be bestowed; which grace when it is not natural, accustomably breedeth much cumber to the preachers, For after they have found in their books many things to deliver, all of them cannot skill to apply this provision readily to every point. This property of ordering and distributing, is for certain a work of the imagination, since (in effect) it is nought else, but figure and correspondence.  
The fourth property wherewith good orators should be endowed, and the most important of all, is action, wherewith they give a being and life to the things which they speak, and with the same do move the hearers, and supple them to believe how that is true which they go about to persuade. For which cause Cicero said, Action is that which ought to be governed by the motion of the body, by the gesture, by the countenance, & by the confirmation and variety of the voice. As if he should say: action ought to be directed in making the motions and gestures, which are requisite for the things that are spoken, lifting up and falling with the voice, growing passionate, and suddenly turning to appeasement; one while speaking fast, anotherwhile leisurely, reproving, and cherishing, moving the body, sometimes to the one side, sometimes to the other, plucking in the arms, and stretching them out, laughing and weeping: and upon some occasions beating the hands together. This grace is so important in preachers, that by the same alone (wanting both invention and disposition) of matters of small value and ordinary, they make a sermon which filleth the audience with astonishment, for that they have this action, which otherwise is termed spirit or pronunciation. Herein falleth a thing worth the marking, whereby is discovered how much this grace can prevail; and it is, that the sermons which through the much action and much spirit do please much, when they be set down in writing are nothing worth, nor will any well-near vouchsafe their reading: and this groweth because with the pen it is impossible to portray those motions and those gestures, which in the pulpit so far won men's like. Other sermons show very well in paper; but at their preaching no man listeth to give ear because that action is not given them, which is requisite at every close. And therefore Plato said, that the style wherewith we speak, is far different from that which we writ well, wherethrough we see many men who can speak very well, do yet indite but meanly, and others contrariwise, indite very well, and discourse but harshly: all which is to be reduced to action, and action (for certain) is a work of the imagination, for all that which we have uttered thereof, maketh figure, correspondence, and good consonance.  
The fifth grace, is to know how to assemble & allege good examples and comparisons, which better contenteth the hearers humour than any thing else: For by a fit example they easily understand the doctrine, and without the same it soon slippeth out of their mind: whereon Aristotle propounded this question, Whence it riseth that men (in making speeches) are better pleased with examples and fables than with conceits, as if he should say, For what occasion do such as come to hear orators, make more reckoning of the examples and fables which they allege, to prove the things that they strive to persuade, than of the arguments and reasons which they frame? and to those he answereth, That by examples & fables men learn best, because it is a proof which appertaineth to the sense, but arguments and reasons hold not the like reason, for that they are a work whereto is requisite much understanding. And for this cause Christ our redeemer in his sermons used so many parables and comparisons, because by them he gave to understand many divine secrets. This point of devising fables and comparisons, it is a thing certain that the same is performed by the imagination, for it is figure, and denoteth good correspondence and similitude.  
The sixth property of a good orator, is, to have a ready tongue of his own, and not affected, choice words, and many gracious sorts of utterance: of which graces we have entreated oftentimes heretofore, proving that the one part of them appertaineth to the imagination, and the other to a good memory.  
The seventh property of a good orator, is that which Cicero speaketh of: furnished with voice, with action, and with comeliness, the voice full and ringing, pleasing to the hearers, not harsh, not hoarse, nor sharp: and although it be true that this springeth from the temperature of the breast and the throat, and not from the imagination: yet sure it is that from the same temperature from which a good imagination groweth, namely heat, a good voice also fetcheth his original, & to know this, importeth much for our purpose: For the school-divines in that they are of a cold and dry complexion, cannot have their voice a good instrument: and this is a great defect in a pulpit.  
This same Aristotle also proveth, alleging the example of old men, by reason of their coldness and dryness. To have a full and clear voice, much heat is requisite to enlarge the passages, and measurable moisture which may supple and soften them. And also Aristotle demandeth why all who by nature are hot, are also big voiced? For which cause we see the contrary in women and eunuchs, who through the much coldness of their complexion (saith Galen) have their throat and voice very delicate, in sort, that when we hear a good voice, we can straightways say, it comes of much heat and moisture in the breast: which two qualities, if they pass so far as the brain, make the understanding to decay, and the memory and imagination to increase, which are the two powers whereof the good preacher serveth himself to content his auditory.  
The eighth property of a good orator (saith Cicero) is to have tongue at will, ready, and well exercised, which grace cannot befall men of great understanding, for that it may be ready, it behoveth the same to partake much heat, and mean drought. And this cannot light in the melancholic, either natural, or by adustion. Aristotle proveth it, by ask this question, Whence cometh it, that such as have an impediment in their speech, are reputed to be of complexion melancholic? To which problem he answereth very untowardly, saying, That the melancholic have a great imagination, and that the tongue cannot hast to utter so fast as the imagination conceiveth, wherethrough they stammer and stumble: which yet proceedeth from nought else, save that the melancholic have ever their mouth full of froth and spittle, through which disposition their tongue is moist and slipper, which thing may evidently be discerned, considering the often spitting of such. This self reason did Aristotle render, when he demanded, Whence it groweth that some are so slow tongued? and he answereth, That such have their tongue very cold and moist, which two qualities breed an impediment therein, and make it subject to the palsy; and so you see his conceit of the imagination cannot follow: for this he yieldeth a profitable remedy, uz. to drink a little wine, or at first to hollow somewhat loud, before they speak in the presence of their audience, for thereby the tongue getteth heat, and drieth.  
But Aristotle saith further, that not to speak plain, may grow from having the tongue very hot, and very dry, and voucheth the example of choleric persons, who growing in choler, cannot speak, and when they are void of passion and choler, they are very eloquent: the contrary betideth to the phlegmatic, who being quiet, cannot talk, and when they are angered utter speeches of great eloquence. The reason of this is very manifest, for although it is true, that heat aideth the imagination, and the tongue also, yet the same may also breed them damage: first, for that they want supply of replies and witty sentences, as also because the tongue cannot pronounce plainly, through overmuch dryness; wherethrough we see, that after a man hath drunk a little water, he speaketh better.  
The choleric (being quiet) deliver very well, for they then retain that point of heat which is requisite for the tongue, and the good imagination; but in anger, the heat groweth beyond due, and turneth the imagination topsy-turvy. The phlegmatic unincensed, have their brain very cold and moist, and therefore are set a ground what to say, and their tongue is over slipper through too much moisture; but when they are set on fire and in choler, the heat forthwith getteth up, and so lifteth up the imagination; by which means there comes to their mind much what to deliver, and the tongue giveth no hindrance for that it is heated: these have no great vain in versifying, for that they are cold of brain, who yet (once angered) do then make verses best, and with most facility, against such as have stirred them, and to this purpose Juvenal said:  Anger makes verse, if nature but deny, 
Through the defect of tongue, men of great understanding cannot be good orators or preachers, and specially for that action requireth a speech sometimes high, and sometimes low, and those who are slow tongued, cannot pronounce but with loud voice, and in a manner crying out, & this is one of the things which soon cloieth the hearers: whereon Aristotle moveth this doubt, Whence it springeth, that men of slow tongue cannot speak soft. To which problem he answereth very well, saying, that fastened to the tongue which is the roof of the mouth, by reason of much moisture, is better loosened with a force, than if you put thereto but little might, as if one would lift up a lance, taking the same by the point, he shall sooner raise it at one push and with a force, then taking it up by little and little.  
Me seemeth, I have sufficiently proved that the good natural qualities which a perfect Orator ought to have, spring for the most part from a good imagination, and some from the memory. And if it be true that the good preachers of our time content their audience, because they have these gifts; it followeth very well, that whosoever is a great preacher can small skill of Schoole-divinitie, and a great scholar will hardly away with preaching, through the contrariety, which the understanding carrieth to the imagination and to the memory. Well knew Aristotle by experience, that although the orator learned Natural and Moral Philosophy, Physic, Metaphysic, the Laws, the Mathematicals, Astrology, and all the arts and sciences; notwithstanding he was seen of all these, but in the flowers and choice sentences, without piercing to the root of the reason & occasion of any of them: But he thought that this not knowing the Divinity, nor the cause of things which is termed Propter quid, grew, for that they bent not themselves thereunto, and therefore propounded this demand. Why do we imagine that a Philosopher is different from an orator? To which problem he answereth, that the Philosopher placeth all his study in knowing the reason and cause of every effect, and the orator in knowing the effect and no farther. And verily it proceedeth from nought else, than for that natural Philosophy appertaineth to the understanding, which power the orators do want; and therefore in Philosophy they can pierce no farther than into the upper skin of things. This self difference there is between the school-divine and the positive, that the one knoweth the cause of whatsoever importeth his faculty; and the other the propositions which are verified, & no more. The case then standing thus, it falleth out a dangerous matter that the preacher enjoyeth an office and authority to instruct Christian people in the truth, and that their auditory is bound to believe them, and yet they want that power, through which the truth is digged up from the root, we may say of them (without lying) those words of Christ our redeemer, Let them go, they are blind, and do guide the blind; and if the blind guide the blind, both fall into the ditch. It is a thing in tolerable to behold with how great audacity such set themselves to preach, who cannot one jot of Schoole-divinitie, nor have any natural ability to learn the same.  
Of such S. Paul greatly complaineth; saying, But the end of the commandment is charity from a pure heart and good conscience, & faith unfeigned▪ from which (verily) some straying, have turned aside to vain babbling: who would be doctors in the Law and yet understand not the things which they speak, nor which they avouch.  
Besides this we have proved tofore, that those who have much imagination, are choleric, subtle, malignant, and cavillers, and always inclined to evil, which they can compass with much readiness & craft. Touching the orators of his time, Aristotle propoundeth this demand, why we use to call an orator crafty, and give not this name to a physician, nor to a comical poet? And more would this difficulty have grown, if Aristotle had understood that music and the stage appertain to the imagination. To which problem he answereth, That Musicians and stage-players shoot at none other Butt, than to delight the hearers; but the orator goes about to purchase somewhat for himself, and therefore it behoveth him to use rules and readiness, to the end the hearers may not smell out his fetch and bent.  
Such properties as these be had those false preachers, of whom S. Paul spoke, writing to the Corinthians, But I fear that as the serpent beguiled Eve with his subtlety; so their senses are led astray: for these false Apostles are guileful workmen, who transform themselves into the Apostles of Christ: and this is no wonder, for Satan transformed himself into an Angel of light, and therefore it is no great matter for his ministers to transform themselves as ministers of justice, whose end shall be their work: as if he should say; I have great fear (my brethren) that as the serpent beguiled Eve with his subtlety and malice, so they also intricate their judgement and perseverance: for these false Apostles are like pottage made of a fox. Preachers who speak underwiles, represent very perfectly a kind of holiness, seem the Apostles of jesus Christ, and yet are disciples of the devil, who can skill so well to represent an Angel of light, that there needeth not a supernatural gift to discover what he is: and since the master can play his part so well, it is not strange that they also who have learned his doctrine practise the semblable, whose end shall be none other than their works. All these properties are well known to appertain to the imagination, and that Aristotle said very well, that orators are subtle and ready, because they are ever in hand to get somewhat for themselves.  
Such as possess a forcible imagination we said before, that they are of complexion very hot, and from this quality spring three principal vices in a man; Pride, Gluttony, and Lechery: for which cause the Apostle said, Such served not our Lord jesus Christ, but their belly.  
And that these three evil inclinations spring from heat, and the contrary virtues from cold: Aristotle proveth, saying thus: and therefore it holdeth the same force to shape conditions, for heat and cold (more than any thing else which is in the body) do season manners, and therefore printeth and worketh in us the qualities of manners: as if he should say, from heat and cold spring all the conditions of man: for these two qualities do more altér our nature than any other: For which cause men of great imagination are ordinarily bad and vicious: for they abandon themselves to be guided by their natural inclination, and have wit and ability to do lewdly. For which cause the same Aristotle asketh, Whence it groweth, that a man being so much instructed, is yet the most unjust of all living creatures? to which problem he maketh answer that man hath much wit, and a great imagination, and for this he findeth many ways to do ill, and (as by his nature he coveteth delights, and to be superior to all and of great happiness) it is of force that he offend: for these things cannot be achieved, but by doing wrong to many: but Aristotle witted not how to frame this problem, nor to yield a fitting answer.  
Better might he have inquired for what cause the worst people are commonly of greatest wit, & amongst those, such as are best furnished with ability, commit the lewdest pranks: whereas of dew, a good wit and sufficiency should rather incline a man to virtue and godliness than to vices and misdoing. The answer hereto is, for that those who partake much heat, are men of great imagination, and the same quality which maketh them witty, traineth them to be naughty & vicious. But when the understanding overruleth, it ordinarily inclineth a man to virtue, because this power is founded on cold and dry: From which two qualities, bud many virtues, as are Continency, Humility, Temperance, and from heat the contrary. And if Aristotle had known this point of Philosophy, he should have been able to answer this problem which saith, Whence may it proceed that that sort of men whom we call craftsmen of Bacchus or stage▪ players, are for the most part ill conditioned? as if he should say: for what cause are such as gain their living on the stage, In keepers and Butchers, and those whose service is used about feasts and banquets to order the cates, ordinarily nought and vicious? To which problem he answereth, saying; that such by being occupied in these belly cheer offices, leave themselves no leisure to study, and therefore pass over their life in incontinency. And hereto is poverty also aiding, which accustomably bringeth with it many evils: but (verily) this is not the reason; but playing on the stage and ordering of feasts springeth from the difference of the imagination, which inviteth a man to this manner of life. And because this difference of imagination consisteth in heat, all of them have very good stomachs and great appetite to eat and drink. These although they gave themselves to learning, should thereby reap little fruit; and had they been never so wealthy, yet would they (howsoever) have cast their affection to these services, were they even base than they are: for the wit and ability draweth every one to that art, which answereth it in proportion.  
For this cause Aristotle demanded what the reason was, why there are men who more willingly addict themselves to the profession of which they have made choice, (though somewhiles unworthy) than to the more honourable? As for example, to berather a juggler, a stage-player, or a trumpeter, than an ginger or an Orator? To which problem he answereth very well, saying; that a man soon discerneth to what art he is disposed, and inclined of his own nature, because he hath somewhat within that teacheth him, and nature can do so much with her pricks, that albeit the art and office be unseemly for the calling of the learner, yet he cleaveth unto that and not to others of greater estimation. But sithence we have put by this manner of wits from the function of preaching, and that we are bound to give and bestow upon every difference of ability that sort of learning, which is answerable thereto in particular: we must likewise determine what sort of wit he ought to be endowed withal, unto whose charge the function of preaching is to be committed, which is the thing that most importeth the christian commonwealth: For we must conceive that albeit we have proved heretofore, that it is a matter repugnant in nature to find a great wit accompanied with much imagination and memory. Notwithstanding this rule holdeth not so universally in all arts, but that it admitteth his exceptions and sometimes cometh short.  
In the last chapter of this work save one, we will prove at full, that if nature be possessed of her due force, and have no impediment cast athwart to stop her, she maketh so perfect a difference of wit, as the same uniteth in one self subject a great understanding, with much imagination and memory, as if they were not contrary, nor held any natural opposition.  
This should be a fitting ability, and convenient for the function of preaching, if there could be found many subjects to be endowed therewith; but (as we will show in the place alleged) they are so few, that of 100000. whom I have measured, I can meet but with one of the size. Therefore it behoveth to seek out another more familiar difference of wit, though not so far stepped in perfection as the former. We must then weet, that between the Physicians and Philosophers riseth a great diversity in opinions, for resolving the temperature and the quality of vinegar, of choler adust, and of ashes; inasmuch as these things sometimes work the effect of heat, and sometimes of cold; and thereon they divided themselves into divers sects: but the truth is, that all these things which suffer adstivon, and are consumed and burned by the fire, have a variable temperature. The greater part of the subject is cold and dry, but there are also other parts intermingled, so subtle and delicate, and of such fervency and heat, that albeit they contain little in quantity, yet they carry more efficacy in working than all the rest of the subject.  
So we see that vinegar and melancholy through adustion open & leaven the earth by means of the heat, and close it not though the more part of these humours be cold. Hence is gathered that the melancholic by adustion, accompany great understanding with much imagination; but they are all weak of memory, for the much adustion much also drieth & hardeneth the brain. These are good preachers, or (at least) the best that may be found, saving those perfect ones of whom we spoke: for although memory fail them, they enjoy of themselves such invention that the very imagination serveth them in stead of memory and remembrance; and ministereth unto them figures and sentences to deliver, without that they stand in need of aught beside. Which these cannot bring about who have conned bosom sermons, and swerving from that bias are strait set a ground, without having the furniture of any second means, to bring themselves afloat again. And that melancholy by adustion hath this variety of temperature, namely; cold and dry, for the understanding, and heat for the imagination, Aristotle declareth in these words, Melancholic men are variable and unequal: for the force of choler adust is variable and unequal; as if the same might be greatly both hot and cold, & as if he had said, Melancholic men by adustion are variable and unequal in their complexion: for that choler adust is very unequal, inasmuch as sometimes it is exceeding hot, and sometimes cold beyond measure.  
The signs by which men of this temperature may be known, are very manifest: they have the colour of their countenance a dark green, or sallow, their eyes very fiery; of whom it was said, he is a man that hath blood in his eyes, their hair black and bald, their flesh lean, rough and hairy, their veins big, they are of very good conversation, and affable, but lecherous, proud, stately, blasphemers, wily, double, injurious, friends of ill doing, and desirous of revenge: this is to be understood when melancholy is kindled, but if it be cooled, forthwith there grow in them the contrary virtues, chastity, humility, fear and reverence of God, charity, mercy, and great acknowledgement of their sins, with sigh and tears, for which cause they live in continual war and strife, without ever enjoying ease or rest. Sometimes vice prevaileth in them, sometimes virtue, but with all these defects, they are wittiest, and most able for the function of preaching, & for all matters of wisdom which befall in the world; for they have an understanding to know the truth, and a great imagination to be able to persuade the same.  
Wherethrough, we see that which God did when he would fashion a man in his mother's womb, to the end that he might be able to discover to the world, the coming of his son, and have the way to prove and persuade, That Christ was the Messiah and promised in the law. For making him of great understanding, & of much imagination, it fell out of necessity (keeping the natural order) that he should also make him choleric and adust. And that this is true, may easily be understood by him, who considereth the great fire & fury, with which 
Paul.  he persecuted the church, the grief conceived by the synagogues, when they saw him converted, as they who had foregone a man of high importance, and of whom the contrary party had made a gainful purchase. It is also known by the tokens of the reasonable choler, with which he spoke and answered the deputy, Consuls, and the judges who had arrested him: defending his own person and the name of Christ, with so great art and readiness, as he convinced them all: yet he had an imperfection in his tongue, and was not very prompt of speech, which Aristotle affirmeth to be a property of the melancholic by adustion. The vices whereto he confessed himself to be subject before his conversion, show him to have been of this temperature: he was a blasphemer, a wrong doer, and a persecutor: all which springeth from abundance of heat. But the most evident sign which showed that he was choleric adust, is gathered from that battle which himself confesseth he had within himself, betwixt his part superior & inferior, saying; I see another law in my members striving against the law of my mind, which leadeth me into the bondage of sin. And this self contention have we proved (by the mind of Aristotle) to be in the melancholic by adustion.  
True it is that some expound (very well) that this battle groweth from the disorder which original sin made between the spirit and the flesh; albeit being such and so great, I believe also that it springs from the choler adust, which he had in his natural constitution: for the royal prophet David participated equally of original sin, and yet complained not so much as did S. Paul; but saith, that he found the inferior portion accorded with his reason, when he would rejoice with God: My heart (saith he) and my flesh joyed in the living God, and (as we will touch in the last chapter save one) David possessed the best temperature that nature could frame: and hereof we will make proof by the opinion of all the Philosophers, that the same ordinarily inclineth a man to be virtuous without any great gainstriving of the flesh. The wits then which are to be sorted out for preachers, are first those who unite a great understanding with much imagination and memory, whose signs shallbe expressed in the last chapter save one. Where such want, there succeed in their room the melancholic by adustion. Those unite a great understanding with much imagination, but suffer defect of memory; wherethrough, they are not stored with copy of words, nor can preach with full store in presence of the people.  
In the third rank succeed men of great understanding, but defective in their imagination and memory. These shall have but a bad grace in preaching; yet will preach sound doctrine. The last whom I would not charge with preaching at all, are such as unite much memory with much imagination, and have defect of understanding. These draw the auditory after them, and hold them in suspense and well pleased: but when they least misdoubt it, they fetch a turn to the holy house: for by way of their sweet discourses and blessings, they beguile the innocent.   

CHAP. XI.  
That the Theoric of the laws appertaineth to the memory, and pleading and judging (which are their practice) to the understanding, and the governing of a commonwealth to the imagination.  
IN the Spanish tongue, it is not void of a mystery, that this word (Lettered) being a common term for all men of letters or learning, as well Divines, as Lawyers, Physicians, Logicians, Philosophers, Orators, Mathematicians, and Astrologers, yet in saying that such a one is learned, we all understand it by common sense, that he maketh profession of the laws, as if this were their proper and peculiar title, and not of the residue.  
The answer of this doubt, though it be easy, yet to yield the same such as is requisite, it behoveth first to be acquainted what law is, and whereunto they are bound, who set themselves to study that profession, that afterwards they may employ the same to use, when they are judges or pleaders. The law (who so well considereth thereof) is nought else, but a reasonable will of the law maker, by which he declareth, in what sort he will that the cases which happen daily in the common wealth, be decided, for preserving the subjects in peace, and directing them in what sort they are to live, & what things they are to refrain.  
I said, a reasonable will, because it sufficeth not, that the king or emperor (who are the efficient cause of the laws) declaring his will in what sort soever, doth thereby make it a law, for if the same be not just, and grounded upon reason, it cannot be called a law, neither is it: even as he cannot be termed a man who wanteth a reasonable soul. Therefore it is a matter established by common accord, that kings enact their laws with assent of men very wise and of sound judgement, to the end they may be right, just, and good, and that the subjects may receive them with good will, and be the more bound to observe and obey them. The material cause of the law is, that it consist of such cases as accustomably befall in the common wealth, according to the order of nature, and not of things impossible or such as betide very seldom. The final cause is, to order the life of man and to direct him what he is to do, and what to forbear, to the end that being conformed to reason, the common wealth may be preserved in peace. For this cause we see that the laws are written in plain words, not doubtful, nor obscure, nor of double understanding, without ciphers, and without abbreviations, and so easy and manifest, that whosoever shall read them, may readily understand and retain them in memory. And because no man should pretend ignorance, they are publicly proclaimed, that whosoever afterward breaketh them, may be chastised.  
In respect therefore of the care and diligence which the good law makers use, that their laws may be just and plain, they have given in charge to the judges and pleaders, that in actions or judgements, none of them follow his own sense, but suffer himself to be guided by the authority of the laws, as if they should say, We command that no judge or advocate, employ his conceit, nor intermeddle in deciding, whether the law be just or unjust, nor yield it any other sense than that that is contained in the text of the letter. So it followeth that the lawyers are to construe the text of the law, and to take that sense which is gathered out of the construction thereof, and none other.  
This doctrine thus presupposed, it falleth out a matter very manifest, for what reason the lawyers are termed lettered, and other men of learning not so, for this name is derived from the word letter, which is to say, a man who is not licensed to follow the capacity of his own understanding, but is enforced to ensue the sense of the very letter. And for that the well practised in this profession have so construed it, they dare not deny or affirm any thing which appertaineth to the determination of any case whatsoever, unless they have lying before them some law which in express terms decideth the same. And if sometimes they speak of their own head, interterlacing their conceit and reason, without grounding upon some law, they do it with fear and bashfulness, for which cause it is a much worn proverb, We blush when we speak without law. Divines cannot call themselves lettered in this signification, for in the holy scripture the letter killeth, and the spirit giveth life; it is full of mysteries, replenished with figures and ciphers, obscure, and not understood by all readers, the vowels and phrases of speech hold a very different signification from that which the vulgar and three-tounged men do know. Therefore whosoever shall set himself to construe the letter, and take the sense which riseth of that Grammatical construction, shall fall into many errors.  
The Physicians also have no letter whereto to submit themselves, for if Hypocrates and Galen, and the other grave authors of this faculty, say and affirm one thing, and that experience and reason approve the contrary, they are not bound to follow them: for in Physic, experience beareth more sway than reason, and reason more than authority: but in the laws it betideth quite contrary, for their authority and that which they determine, is of more force and vigour than all the reasons that may be alleged to the contrary. Which being so, we have the way laid open before us, to assign what wit is requisite for the laws. For if a Lawyer have his understanding and imagination tied to follow that which the law avouched, without adding or diminishing, it falleth out apparent, that this faculty appertaineth to the memory, and that the thing wherein they must labour, is to know the number of the laws, and of the rules which are in the text, and to call to remembrance each of them in particular, & to rehearse at large his sentence and determination, to the end that when occasion is ministered, we may know there is a law which giveth decision, and in what form and manner. Therefore to my seeming it is a better difference of wit for a lawyer to have much memory and little understanding, than much understanding and little memory. For if there fall out no occasion of employing his wit and ability, and that he must have at his finger's ends so great a number of laws as are extant, and so far different from the other; with so many exceptions, limitations, & enlargements, it serves better to know by heart what hath been determined in the laws for every point which shall come in question, than to discourse with the understanding in what sort the same might have been determined: for the one of these is necessary, & the other impertinent, since none other opinion than the very determination of the law must bear the stroke.  
So it falls out for certain, that the Theoric of the law appertaineth to the memory and not to the understanding, nor to the imagination: for which reason, and for that the laws are so positive, and that because the lawyers have their understanding so tied to the will of the lawmaker, and cannot entermingle their own resolution, save in case where they rest uncertain of the determination of the law, when any client seeketh their judgement, they have authority and licence to say, I will look for the case in my book: which if the Physician should answer when he is asked a remedy for some disease, or the Divine in cases of conscience; we would repute them for men, but simply seen in the faculty whereof they make profession. And the reason hereof is, that those sciences have certain universal principles and definitions, under which the particular cases are contained; but in the law-faculty every law containeth a several particular case, without having any affinity with the next, though they both be placed under one title. In respect whereof, it is necessary to have a notice of all the laws, and to study each one in particular, and distinctly to lay them up in memory. But here against Plato noteth a thing worthy of great consideration; and that is, how in his time a learned man was held in suspicion that he knew many laws by heart, seeing by experience that such were not so skilful judges & pleaders, as this their vaunt seemed to pretend. Of which effect it appeareth he could not find out the cause, seeing in a place so convenient he did not report the same; only he saw by experience that Lawyers endowed with good memory, being set to defend a cause, or to give a sentence, applied not their reasons so well as was convenient.  
The reason of this effect may easily be rendered in my doctrine, presupposing that memory is contrary to the understanding, & that the true interpretation of the laws, to amplify, restrain, and compound them, with their contraries and oppositions, is done by distinguishing, concluding, arguing, judging, and choosing: which works we have often said heretofore belong to discourse, and the learned man possessing much memory cannot by possibility enjoy them.  
We have also noted heretofore that memory supplieth none other office in the head than faithfully to preserve the figures and fantasies of things: but the understanding and the imagination, are those which work therewithal.  
And if a learned man have the whole art of memory, and yet want understanding and imagination, he hath no more sufficiency to judge or plead, than the very Code or Digest, which compassing within them all the laws and rules of reason, for all that cannot write one letter. Moreover, albeit it be true that the law ought to be such as we have mentioned in his definition; yet it falleth out a miracle to find things with all the perfections, which the understanding attributeth unto them: that the law be just and reasonable, and that it proceed fully to all that which may happen, that it be written in plain terms, void of doubt & oppositions, and that it receive not diverse constructions, we see not always accomplished: for in conclusion, it was established by man's counsel, and that is not of force sufficient to give order for all that may betide: and this is daily seen by experience, for after a law hath been enacted with great advisement and counsel, the same (in short space) is abrogated again; for when it is once published and put in practice, a thousand inconveniences discover themselves: whereof (when it was persuaded) no man took regard: and therefore kings and emperors are advised by the same laws, that they shame not to amend and correct their laws: for, in a word, men they are, and marvel there is none if they commit an error, so much the rather, for that no law can comprehend in words and sentences all the circumstances of the case which it decideth: for the craft of bad people is more wily to find holes than that of good men to foresee how they are to be governed; and therefore it was said, Neither the laws nor the resolutions of the Senate can be set down in writing in such sort, that all the cases which severally chance may be comprised therein; but it sufficeth to comprehend the things which fall out oftenest: and if other cases succeed afterward, for which no law is enacted, it decideth them in proper terms.  
The law faculty is not so bare of rules and principles, but that if the judge or pleader have a good discourse, to know how to apply them; they may find their true determination and defence, and whence to gather the same. In sort that if the cases be more in number than the laws, it behoveth that in the judge and in the pleader there be much discourse to make new laws, and that not at all adventures: but such as reason (by his consonance) may receive them without contradiction. This the lawyers of much memory cannot do: for if the cases which the law thrusteth into their mouth, be not squared and chewed to their hands, they are to seek what to do. We are wont to resemble a lawyer, who can rehearse many laws by heart, to a regrater or hosier that hath many pairs of hosen ready made in his shop, who, to deliver you one that may fit you, must make you to assay them all: and if none agree with the buyers measure, he must send him away hoseless. But a learned man of good understanding, is like a good tailor, who hath his shears in his hand, and his piece a cloth on the table, and taking measure, cutteth his hosen after his stature that demandeth them.  
The shears of a good pleader is his sharp understanding, with which he taketh measure of the case, and appareleth the same with that law which may decide it: and if he find not a whole one that may determine it in express terms, he maketh one of many pieces, and therewith useth the best defence that he may. The lawyers who are endowed with such a wit and ability, are not to be termed lettered: for they construe not the letter, neither bind themselves to the formal words of the law; but it seemeth they are lawmakers, or counsellors at law: of whom the laws themselves inquire and demand how they shall determine: for if they have power & authority to interpret them, to reave, to add, and to gather out of them exceptions, and fallacies; and that they may correct and amend them, it was not unfitly said, That they seem to be law makers.  
Of this sort of knowledge it was spoken: by the knowledge of the laws it is not meant to con their words by rote; but to take notice of their force and power, as if he should say, Let no man think that to know the laws is to bear in mind the formal words with which they are written; but to understand how far their forces extend, and what the point is which they may decide: for their reason is subject to many varieties, by means of the circumstances as well of time as of person, of place, of manner, of matter, of cause, and of the thing itself. All which breedeth an alteration in the decision of the law, and if the judge or pleader be not endowed with discourse, to gather out of the law, or to take away or adjoin that which the law self doth not express in words, he shall commit many errors in following the letter: for it hath been said that the words of the law are not to be taken after the jewish manner, that is, to construe only the letter, and so take the sense thereof.  
On the things already alleged, we conclude that pleading is a work of discourse, and that if the learned in the laws possess much memory, he shallbe untoward to judge or plead through the repugnancy of these two powers. And this is the cause for which the learned of so ripe memory (whom Plato mentioneth) could not defend well their client's causes, nor apply the laws. But in this doctrine there presents itself a doubt, and that (in mine opinion) not of the lightest: for if the discourse be that which putteth the case in the law, and which determineth the same by distinguishing, limiting, amplifying, inferring, and answering the arguments of the contrary party, how is it possible that the discourse may compass all this, if the memory set not down all the laws before it? for (as we have above remembered) it is commanded that no man in actions or judgements shall use his own sense, but leave himself to be guided by the authority of the laws. Conformable hereunto, it behoveth first to know all the laws and rules of the law faculty, ere we can take hold of that which maketh to the purpose of our case. For albeit we have said that the pleader (of good understanding) is lord of the laws: yet it is requisite that all his reasons and arguments be grounded on the principles of this faculty, without which they are of none effect or valour. And to be able to do this it behoveth to have much memory that may preserve and retain so great a number of laws which are written in the books.  
This argument proveth it to be necessary, to the end a pleader may be accomplished, that there be united in him a great discourse and much memory. All which I confess, but that which I would say is, that since we cannot find great discourse united with much memory, through the repugnancy which they carry each to other, it is requisite that the pleader have much discourse, and little memory, rather than much memory & little discourse: for to the default of memory are found many remedies; as books, tables, alphabets, & other things devised by men: but if discourse fail, there can nothing be found to remedy the same.  
Besides this, Aristotle faith, that men of great discourse though they have a feeble memory, yet they have much remembrance, by which they retain a certain diffuse notice of things, they have seen, heard, and read: whereupon discoursing, they call them to memory And albeit they had not so many remedies to present unto the understanding the whole body of the civilllaw: yet the laws are grounded on so great reason, as Plato reporteth, that the ancients termed the law, Wisdom & Reason. Therefore the judge or pleader, of great discourse, though judging or counseling he have not the law before him; yet seldom shall he commit an error: for he hath with him the instrument, with which the Emperors made the laws. Whence oftentimes it falleth out that a judge of good wit, giveth a sentence without knowing the decision of the law; and afterwards findeth the same so ruled in his books: and the like we see sometimes betideth the pleaders when they give their judgement in a case without studying. The laws and rules of reason, whosoever well marketh them, are the fountain and original, whence the pleaders gather their arguments and reasons to prove what they undertake. And this work (for certain) is performed by the discourse: which power if the pleader want, he shall never skill to shape an argument though he have the whole civil law at his finger's ends. This we see plainly to befall in such as study the art of oratory, when the aptness thereunto is failing: for though they learn by art the Topics of Cicero, being the spring from which flow the arguments that may be invented to prove every problem, both on the affirmative and the negative part: yet they cannot thereout shape a reason. Again, there come others of great wit and towardness; who without looking in book or studying the Topics, make 1000 arguments serving for the purpose, as occasion requireth.  
This self falleth out in the lawyers of good memory, who will recite you a whole text very perfectly, and yet of so great a multitude of laws, as are comprised therein, cannot collect so much as one argument to prove their intention. And contrariwise, others who have studied simply without books, and without allowance, work miracles in pleading of causes. Hence we know how much it importeth the common wealth, that there may be such an election and examination of wits for the sciences; inasmuch as some without art know and understand what they are to effect: and others laden with precepts and rules, for that they want a convenient towardliness for practice, commit a thousand absurdities, which very ill beseem them. So then, if to judge & plead, be effected by distinguishing, inferring, arguing, & choosing, it standeth with reason that whosoever setteth himself to study the laws, enjoy a good understanding, seeing that such actions appertain to this power, and not to the memory or to the imagination. How we may find whether a child be endowed with this difference of wit or no, it would do well to understand: but first it behoveth to lay down what are the qualities of discourse, & how many differences it compriseth in itself, to the end we may likewise know with distinction, to which of these the laws appertain: for the first, we must weet, that albeit the understanding be the most noble power, and of greatest dignity in man: yet there is none which is more easily led into error (as touching the truth) than the understanding. This Aristotle attempted to prove when he said, That the sense is ever true, but the understanding (for the most 
Lib. 3. de Anima. ca 3.  part) discourseth badly; the which is plainly seen by experience: for if it were not so amongst the Divines, the Physicians, the Philosophers, and the Lawyers, there would not fall out so many weighty dissensions, so divers opinions, and so many judgements and conceits upon every point, seeing the truth is never more than one. Whence it groweth, that the senses hold so great acertaintie in their objects, and the understanding is so easily beguiled in his, may well be conceived if we consider that the objects of the five senses, and the spices by which they are known, have their being, real, firm, and stable by nature before they are known. But that truth which is to be contemplated by the understanding, if itself do not frame and fashion the same, it hath no formal being of his own; but is wholly scattered and lose in his materials, as a house converted into stones, earth, timber & tiles, with which so many errors may be committed in building, as there shall men set themselves to build with ill imagination.  
The like befalleth in the building which the understanding raiseth when it frameth a truth: for if the wit be not good, all the residue will work a thousand follies with the self same principles. Hence springs it that amongst men there are so sundry opinions touching one self matter: for every one maketh the composition and figure such as is his understanding.  
From these errors and opinions are the five senses free: for neither the eyes make the colour, nor the taste the savours, nor the feeling the palpable qualities; but the whole is made and compounded by nature before any of them be acquainted with his object. Men because they carry not regard to this bad operation of the understanding, take hardiness to deliver confidently their own opinion, without knowing (in certainty) of what sort their wit is, and whither it can a fashion a truth well or ill. And if we be not resolved herein, let us ask some of these learned men, who after they have set down in writing, and confirmed their opinions with many arguments and reasons, and have another time changed their opinions and conceit, when or how they can assure themselves, that (now at last) they have hit the nail on the head? themselves will not deny, but that they erred the first time, seeing they unsay what they said tofore.  
Secondly, I avouch that they ought to have the less confidence in their understanding, because the power which once ill compoundeth the truth, whilst his patron placed so much assurance in his arguments and reasons, should therefore the sooner take suspect, that he may once again slide into error whilst he worketh with the self same instrument of reason; and so much the rather for that it hath been seen by experience, that the first opinion hath borne most truth, and afterwards he hath relied upon a worse, and of less probability. They hold it for a sufficient token, that the understanding compoundeth well a truth, when they see it enamoured of such a figure; and that there are arguments & reasons which move it to conclude in that sort: and verily they miss their cushion, for the same understanding carrieth the same proportion to his false opinions, that the inferior powers have each with the differences of their object: for if we demand of the Physicians, what meat is best and most savoury of all that men accustomably feed upon; I believe they will answer, that for men who are distempered and of weak stomach, there is none absolutely good or evil, but such as the stomach is that shall receive it: for there are stomachs (saith Galen) which better brook beef than hens or cracknels, and othersome abhor eggs and milk: and others again have a longing after them, and in the manner of using meats: some like roast, and some boiled: and in roast, some love to have the blood run in the dish, and some to have it brown and burned, And (which is more worthy of consideration) that meat which this day is favourly eaten, and with good appetite, to morrow will be loathed, and a far worse longed for in his room. All this is understood when the stomach is good and sound: but if it fall into a certain infirmity, which the Physicians call Pica, or Malacia, then arise long after things, which man's nature abhorreth: so as they eat earth, coals, and lime, with greater appetite than hens or trout. If we pass on to the faculty generative, we shall find as many appetites & varieties▪ for some men love a foul woman, and abhor a fair: others cast better liking to a fool than her that is wise: a fat wench is fulsome, and a lean hath their liking, silks & brave attire offend some men's fancies, who lose themselves after one that totters in her rags. This is understood when the genital parts are in their soundness: but if they fall into their infirmity of stomach, which is termed Malacia; they covet detestable beastliness. The same befalleth in the faculty sensitive: for of the palpable qualities hard and soft, rough and smooth, hot and cold, moist and dry, there is none of them which can content every one's feeling: for there are men who take better rest on a hard bed than a soft, & other some better on a soft than a hard. All this variety of strange tastes & appetites, is found in the compositions, framed by the understanding: for if we assemble 100 men of learning and propound a particular question, each of them delivereth a several judgement, and discourseth thereof in different manner. one self argument to one seemeth a sophistical reason, to another probable; and some you shall meet with, to whose capacity it concludeth as if it were a demonstration. And this is not only true in diverse understandings, but we see also by experience that one self reason concludeth to one self understanding, at one time thus-wise, and at another time otherwise: so much that every day men vary in opinion; some by process of time purging their understanding, know the default of reason, which first swayed them, and others losing the good temperature of their brain, abhor the truth, and give allowance to a leasing. But if the brain fall into the infirmity, which is termed Malacia, than we shall see strange judgements and compositions, arguments false and weak to prove more forcibly than such as carry strength and truth; to good arguments, an answer shaped, and to bad a condescending: from the premises, whence a right conclusion may be collected, they gather a wrong, and by strange arguments, and fond reasons, they prove their bad imaginations. This, grave and learned men duly advising, labour to deliver their opinion, concealing the reasons whereon they ground: for men persuade themselves, that so far man's authority availeth, as the reason is of force on which he buildeth, and the arguments resting so indifferent for concluding through the diversity of understandings, every man giveth a judgement of the reason conformably to the wit which he possesseth for which cause it is reputed greater gravity to say, This is mine opinion, for certain reasons which move me so to think; than to display the arguments whereon he relieth. But if they be enforced to render a reason of their opinion, they overslip not any argument, how slight so ever: for that which they least valued, with some concludeth and worketh more effect, than the most urgent. Wherein the great misery of our understanding is discovered, which compoundeth, and divideth, argueth, and reasoneth, and at last (when it is grown to a conclusion) is void of proof or light, which may make it discern whether his opinion be true or no.  
This self uncertainty have the divines in matters which appertain not to the faith: for after they have argued at full, they cannot then assure themselves of any infallible proof or evident success that may discover, which reasons carried greatest weight, and soeverie divine casteth how he may best ground himself, and answer with most appearance to the adverse parties arguments, his own reputation saved, and this is all whereabouts he must bestow his endeavour. But the charge of a Physician, and a General in the field, after he hath well discoursed and refuted the grounds of the contrary party, is to mark the success, which if it be good he shall be held for discreet; if had, almen will know that he relied upon guileful reasons.  
In matters of faith propounded by the Church there can be fall none error: for God, best weeling how uncertain 
Take heed you receive no hurt for leaving out the Pope.  men's reasons are, and with how great facility they run headlong to be deceived, consenteth not that matters so high and of so weighty importance, should rest upon our only determination: but when two or three are gathered together 〈◊〉 his name, with the solemnity of the Church, he forthwith 〈◊〉 into the midst of them, as precedent of the action and to giveth allowance to that which they say well and reaveth their errors, and of himself revealeth that to whose notice by human forces we cannot attain. The proof then: which the reasons form in matters of faith must receive, is to advise well whether they prove or infer: the same, which the Catholic church saith and declareth: for if they collect aught to the contrary there (without doubt) they are faulty: but in other questions i where the understanding hath liberty of 〈◊〉, there hath not yet any manner been devised to know what reasons conclude, nor when the understanding doth well compound a truth: only we rely upon the good consonance which they make, and that is in argument which may 〈…〉 better appearance and likelier proof of truth, than the 〈◊〉 themselves.  
Physicians, and such as command in martial affairs, have success and experience for proof of their reasons. For if 〈◊〉 captains prove by many reasons; that it is best to join battle, and so many (in the other side) defend the contrary, that which succcedeth, will confirm the one opinion, and convince the other. And if two physicians dispute whether the patiented shall die or live, after he is cured or deceased, it will appear whose reason was best. But for all this, the success is yet no sufficient proof, for whereas an effect hath many causes, it may very well betid happily for one cause, and yet the reasons (perhaps) were grounded on a contrary. Aristotle moreover affirmeth, that to know what reasons conclude, it is good to ensue the common opinion; for if many wisemen say and affirm one self thing, and all conclude with the same reasons, it is a sign (though topical) that they are conclusive, and that they compound well the truth. But who so taketh this into due consideration, shall find it a proof subject also unto beguiling, for in the forces of the understanding, weight is of more pre-eminence than number: for it fareth not in this, as in bodily forces, that when many loin together to lift up a weight, they prevail much, and when few, but little: but to attain to the notice of a truth deeply hidden, one high understanding is of more value, than 100000 which are not comparable thereunto; and the reason is, because the understandings help not each other, neither of many make one, as it falls out in bodily powers. Therefore well said the wise man, Have many peacemakers, but take one of a thousand to be thy counsellor; as if he should say, Keep for thyself many friends who may defend thee when thou shalt be driven to come to handstrokes, but to ask counsel, choose only one amongst a thousand. Which sentence was also expressed by Heraelilus, who said, One with me is worth a thousand. In contentions and causes, every learned man be thinketh how he may best ground himself on reason, but after he hath well revolved every thing, there is no art which can make him know with assurance whether his understanding have made that composition which in justice is requisite; for if one pleader prove with law in hand, that reason standeth on the demandants side, and another by way also of the law, proveth the like for the defendant, what remedy shall we devise, to know which of the two pleaders hath form his reasons best? The sentence of the judge maketh no demonstration of true justice, neither can the same be termed a success, for his sentence (also) is but an opinion, & he doth none other than cleave to one of the two pleaders: and to increase the number of learned men in one self opinion, is no argument to persuade that what they resolve upon is therefore true, for we have already affirmed and proved, that many weak capacities (though they join in one to discover some dark conceived truth) shall never arrive to the power and force of some one alone if the same be an understanding of high reach. And that the sentence of the judge maketh no demonstration is plainly seen, in that at another higher seat of justice they reverse the same and give a diverse judgement, and (which is worst) it may so fall, that the inferior judge, was of an abler capacity than the superior, and his opinion more conformable unto reason. And that the sentence of the superior judge, is not a sufficient proof of justice neither, it is a matter very manifest, for in the same actions, and from the same judges, without adding or reaving any one jot, we see daily contrary sentences to issue. And he that once is deceived by placing confidence in his own reasons, falleth duly into suspect, that he may be deceived of new. Wherethrough we should the less rely upon his opinion. For he that is once nought (saith the wiseman) chase him from thee. Pleaders, seeing the great variety of understandings which possess the judges, and that each of them is affectionate to the reason which best squareth with his wit, and that sometime they take satisfaction at one argument, & sometimes assent to the contrary, they thereupon boldly thrust themselves forth to defend every cause in controversy, both on the part affirmative and the negative; and this so much the rather, because they see by experience, that in the one manner and the other, they have a sentence in their favour, and so that comes very rightly to be verified, which wisdom said, The thoughts of mortal men are timorous, and their foresights uncertain. The remedy than which we have against this, seeing the reasons of the lawyer fail in proof and experience, shall be, to make choice of men of great understanding, who may be judges and pleaders; For the reasons and arguments of such (saith Aristotle) are no less certain and firm, than experience itself. And by making this choice, it seemeth that the common wealth resteth assured that her officers shall administer justice. But if they give them all scope, to enter without making trial of their wit, as the use is at this day, the inconveniences (which we have noted) will evermore befall.  
By what signs it may be known, that he who shall study the laws, hath the difference of wit requisite to this faculty, heretofore (after a sort) we have expressed, but yet, to renew it to the memory, and to prove the same more at large, we must know, that the child who being set to read, soon learneth to know his letters, and can pronounce every one with facility, according as they be placed in the A B C, giveth token that he shall be endowed with much memory, for such a work as this (for certain) is not performed by the understanding, nor by the imagination but it appertaineth unto the office of the memory, to preserve the figures of things, and to report the natures of each, when occasion so requireth, and where much memory dwelleth, we have proved before, that default of understanding also reigneth.  
To write also with speed, and a fair hand, we said that it bewrayed an imagination, wherethrough the child who in few days will frame his hand, and write his lines right, and his letters even and with good form and figure, yieldeth sign of mean understanding, for this work is performed by the imagination, and these two powers encounter in that contrariety which we have already spoken of and noted.  
And if being set to Grammar he learn the same with little labour, and in short time make good Latins, and write fine epistles, with the well ruled closes of Cicero, he shall never be good judge nor pleader, for it is a sign that he hath much memory, and (save by great miracle) he will be of slender discourse. But if such a one wax obstinate in plodding at the laws, and spend much time in the schools, he will prove a famous reader, and shall have a stint of many hearers, for the latin tongue is very gracious in chairs, and to read with great show, there are requisite many allegations, and to farthel up in every law, whatsoever hath been written touching the same; and to this purpose, memory is of more necessity than discourse. And albeit it is true, that in the chair he be to distinguish, infer, angue, judge and choose, to gather the true sense of the law; yet in the end he putteth the case as best liketh himself, he moves doubts, maketh objections, and giveth sentence after his own will without that any gainsay him; for which a mean discourse is sufficient. But when one pleader speaketh for the plaintiff, and another for the defendant, and a third lawyer supplieth the judges place; this is a true controversy, & men cannot speak so adrandom as when they skirmish without an adversary. And if the child profit slenderly in Grammar, we may thereby gather, that he hath a good discourse, I say we may so conjecture, because it followeth not of necessity, that whosoever cannot learn Latin, hath therefore strait ways a good discourse, seeing we have proved tofore, that children of good imagination never greatly profit in the Latin tongue; but that which may best discover this, is Logic: for this science carrieth the same proportion with the understanding, as the touchstone with gold. Where through it falled out certain, that if he who taketh lesson in the area, begin not within a month or two to discourse and to cast doubts; and if there come not in his head arguments and answers in the matter which is treated of, he is void of discourse; but if the prove towardly in his seidner; it is an infallible argument that he is endued with a good understanding for the laws, and so he may forth with addict himself to study them without longer tarrying. Albeit would hold it better done, first to run through the arts, because Logic, in respect of the understanding, is nought else than those shackles which we 〈◊〉 on the legs of an untrained Mule, which going with them in any days, taketh a steady & seemly place. Such a march doth the understanding make in his disputations, when it first bindeth the same with the rules and precepts or Logic; but if this child, whom we go thus wise 〈◊〉, reap no profit in the Latin tongue, neither can come away with Logic as were requisite, it behoveth to try whether he possess a good imagination, ere we take him from the laws; for herein is lapped up a very great secret, and it is good that the commonwealth be done to ware thereof, and it is, that there are some lawyers, who getting up into the chair, work miracles in interpreting the texts, & others in pleading: but if you put the staff of justice into their hands, they have no more ability to govern, than as if the laws had never been enacted to any such end. And contrariwise, some other there are who with three misunderstood laws, which they have learned at all adventures; being placed in any government, there cannot more be desired at any man's hands than they will perform. At which effect, some curious wits take wonder, because they sink not into the depth of the cause, from whence it may grow. And the reason is, that government appertaineth to the imagination, and not to the understanding nor the memory. And that this is so, the matter may very manifestly be proved, considering that the commonwealth is to be compounded with order & concert, with every thing in his due place, which all put together maketh good figure & correspondence. And this (sundry times heretofore) we have proved to be a work of the imagination: and it shall prove nought else to place a great lawyer to be a governor, than to make a deaf man a judge in music; but this is ordinarily to be understood, & not as an universal rule: for we have already proved it is possible that nature can unite great understanding with much imagination: so shall there follow no repugnancy to be a good pleader and a famous governor: and we heretofore discovered, that nature being endowed with all the forces which she may possess, and with matter well seasoned, will make a man of great memory, and of great understanding, and of much imagination; who studying the laws, will prove a famous reader, a great pleader, and no less governor, but nature makes so few such, as this cannot pass for a general rule.   

CHAP. XII.  
How it may be proved, that of Theorical Physic, part appertaineth to the memory, and part to the understanding, and the practic to the imagination.  
WHat time the Arabian Physic flourished, there was a Physician very famous, aswell in reading, as in writing, arguing, distinguishing, answering, and concluding; who, men would think in respect of his profound knowledge, were able to revive the dead, and to heal any disease whatsoever, and yet the contrary came to pass: for he never took any patient in cure, who miscarried not under his hands. Whereat greatly shaming, and quite out of countenance, he went and made himself a friar, complaining on his evil fortune, and notable to conceive the cause how he came so to miss. And because the freshest examples afford surest proof, and do most sway the understanding, it was held by many grave Physicians, that john Argentier, a physician of our time, far surpassed Galen in reducing the art of physic to a better method: and yet for all this it is reported of him, that he was so infortunate in practice, as no patiented of his country durst take physic at his hands, fearing some dismal success. Hereat it seemeth the vulgar have good reason to marvel, seeing by experience (not only in those rehearsed by us: but also in many others with whom men have daily to deal) that if the Physician be a great clerk: for the same reason he is unfit to minister.  
Of this effect Aristotle procured to render a reason, but could not find it out. He thought that the cause why the reasonable Physicians of his time failed in curing, grew for that such men had only a general notice, and knew not every particular complexion, contrary to the Empirics, whose principal study bend itself to know the properties of everiy several person, and let pass the general; but he was void of reason, for both the one and the other exercised themselves about particular cures, & endeavoured (so much as in them lay) to know each one's nature singly by itself. The difficulty than consisteth in nothing else than to know, for what cause so well learned physicians, though they exercise themselves all their life long in curing; yet never grow skilful in practice, and yet other simple souls with three or four rules, learned very soon: and the scholars can more skill of ministering than they.  
The true answer of this doubt holdeth no little difficulty, seeing that Aristotle could not find it out, nor render (at least in some sort) any part thereof. But grounding on the principles of our doctrine, we will deliver the same: for we must know that the perfection of a physician consisteth in two things, no less necessary to attain the end of his art, than two legs are to go without halting. The first is, to weet by way of method, the precepts and rules of curing men in general, without descending to particulars. The second, to be long time exercised in practice, and to have visited many patients: for men are not so different each from other, but that in divers things they agree; neither so conjoined, but that there rest in them particularities of such condition, as they can neither be delivered by speech, nor written, nor taught, nor so collected, as that they may be reduced into art: but to know them, is only granted to him, who hath often seen and had them in handling. Which may easily be conceived, considering that man's face, being composed of so small a number of parts, as are two eyes, a nose, two cheeks, a mouth, & a forehead, nature shapeth yet therein so many compositions and combinations, as if you assemble together 100000 men, each one hath a countenance so different from other, and proper to himself, that it falleth out a miracle, to find two who do altogether resemble. The like betideth in the four elements, & in the 4 first qualities, hot, cold, moist, and dry, by the harmony of which, the life and health of man is compounded: and of so slender a number of parts, nature maketh so many proportions, that if a 100000 men be begotten, each of them comes to the world with a health so peculiar and proper to himself, that if God should on the sudden miraculously change their proportion of these first qualities, they would all become sick, except some two or three, that by great disposition had the like consonance and proportion. Whence two conclusions are necessarily inferred. The first is, that every man who falleth sick, aught to be cured conformable to his particular proportion; in sort, that if the physician restore him not to his first consonance of humours, he cannot recover. The second that to perform this as it ought, is requisite the physician have first seen & dealt with the patiented sundry times in his health, by feeling his pulse, perusing his state, and what manner countenance and complexion he is of, to the end that when he shall fall sick, he may judge how far he is from his health, and in ministering unto him, may know to what point he is to restore him. For the first, (namely to weet and understand the Theoric and composition of the art) saith Galen, it is necessary to be endowed with great discourse and much memory: for the one part of physic consisteth in reason, and the other in experience and history. To the first is understanding requisite, and to the other memory, and it resting a matter of so great difficulty, to unite these two powers in a large degree; it followeth of force that the physician become unapt for the Theoric. Wherethrough we behold many Physicians, learned in the Greek & Latin tongue, and great Anatomists and Simplicists (all works of the memory) who brought to arguing or disputations, or to find out the cause of any effect that appertaineth to the understanding, can small skill thereof.  
The contrary befalleth in others, who show great wit and sufficiency in the Logic and Philosophy of this art: but being set to the Latin and Greek tongue, touching simples and anatomies, can do little, because memory in them is wanting: for this cause Galen said very well, That it is no marvel, if among so great a multitude of men, who practise the exercise and study of the art of Physic and Philosophy, so few are found to profit therein, and yielding the reason, he saith, It requires a great toil to find out a wit requisite for this Science; or a master who can teach the same with perfection, or can study it with diligence and attention. But with all these reasons Galen goeth groping, for he could not hit the cause whence it comes to pass, that few persons profit in Physic. Yet in saying it was a great labour to find out a wit requisite for this science, he spoke truth; albeit he did not so farforth specify the same, as we will; namely, for that it is so difficult a matter to unite a great understanding with much memory, no man attaineth to the depth of Theorical physic. And for that there is found a repugnancy between the understanding and the imagination (whereunto we will now prove, that practice and the skill to cure with certainty appertaineth) it is a miracle to find out a Physician, who is both a great Theorist, and withal a great practitioner, or contrariwise a great practitioner, and very well seen in Theoric. And that the imagination, and not the understanding is the power, whereof the physician is to serve himself, in knowing and curing the diseases of particular persons, may easily be proved.  
First of all presupposing the doctrine of Aristotle, who affirmeth, That the understanding cannot know particulars; neither distinguish the one from the other, nor discern the time and place, & other particularities which make men different each from other: and that every one is to be cured after a divers manner; and the reason is (as the vulgar Philosophers avouch) for that the understanding is a spiritual power, and cannot be altered by the particulars which are replenished with matter. And for this cause Aristotle said, That the sense is of particulars, and the understanding of universals.  
If then medicines are to work in particulars, and not in universals (which are unbegotten, and uncorruptible) the understanding falleth out to be a power impertinent for curing. Now the difficulty consisteth in discerning why men of great understanding, cannot possess good outward senses for the particulars, they being powers so repugnant; And the reason is very plain, and this is it, that the outward senses cannot well perform their operations, unless they be assisted with a good imagination, and this we are to prove by the opinion of Aristotle, who going about to express what the imagination was, saith it is a motion caused by the outward sense, in sort as the colour, which multiplieth by the thing coloured, doth alter the eye. And so it fareth that this self colour, which is in the crystalline humour, passeth farther into the imagination, and maketh therein the same figure which was in the eye. And if you demand of which of these two kinds the notice of the particular is made, all philosophers avouch (and that very truly) that the second figure is it which altereth the imagination, and by them both is the notice caused, conformable to that so common speech, From the object, and from the power the notice springeth. But from the first which is in the crystalline humour, & from the sightfull power, groweth no notice, if the imagination be not attentive thereunto, which the physicians do plainly prove, saying, That if they launce or sear the flesh of a diseased person, who for all that feeleth no pain, it shows a token that his imagination is distracted into some profound contemplation: whence we see also by experience in the sound, that if they be reached into some imagination, they see not the things before them, nor hear though they be called, nor taste meat savoury or unsavoury, though they have it in their mouth. Wherefore it is a thing certain, that not the understanding or outward senses, but the imagination, is that which maketh the judgement, and taketh notice of particular things.  
It followeth then, that the physician, who is well seen in Theoric, for that he is endowed with great understanding, or great memory, must of force prove a bad practitioner, as having defect in his imagination. And contrariwise, he that proveth a good practitioner, must of force be a bad Theorist: for much imagination cannot be united with much understanding and much memory. And this is the cause for which so few are thoroughly seen in physic, or commit but small errors in curing: for, not to halt in the work, it behoveth to know the art, and to possess a good imagination, for putting the same in practice, and we have proved that these two cannot stick together.  
The Physician never goeth to know and cure a disease, but that secretly to himself he frameth a Syllogism in Darij, though he be never so well experienced, and the proof of his first proportion belongeth to the understanding, and of the second to the imagination: for which cause, the great Theorists do ordinarily err in the minor, and the great practitioners in the mayor: as if we should speak after this manner, Every fever which springeth from cold and moist humours, aught to be cured with medicines hot and dry. (Taking the tokening of the cause) this fever which the man endureth, dependeth on humours cold and moist: therefore the same is to be cured with medicines hot and dry. The understanding will sufficiently prove the truth of the mayor, because it is an universal, saying; That cold & moist require for their temperature hot and dry: for every quality is abated by his contrary. But coming to prove the minor, there the understanding is of no value: for that the same is particular and of another jurisdiction whose notice appertaineth to the imagination, borrowing the proper and particular tokens of the disease, from the five outward senses.  
And if the tokening is to be taken from the fever, or from his cause, the understanding cannot reach thereunto: only it teacheth the tokening is to be taken from that which showeth greatest peril; but which of those tokening is greatest, is only known to the imagination, by counting the damages which the fever produceth, with those of the Symptoms of the evil, and the cause and the small or much force of the power. To attain this notice, the imagination possesseth certain unutterable properties, with which the same cleareth matters that cannot be expressed nor conceived, neither is there found any art to teach them. Wherethrough, we see a physician enter to visit a patiented, and by means of his sight, his hearing, his smelling, and his feeling, he knoweth things which seem impossible. In sort that if we demand of the same physician, how he could come by so ready a knowledge, himself cannot tell the reason: for it is a grace which springeth from the fruitfulness of the imagination, which by another name is termed a readiness of capacity, which by common signs, and by uncertain conjectures, and of small importance, in the twinkling of an eye knoweth 1000 differences of things, wherein the force of curing and prognosticating with 
Solertia.  certainty consisteth.  
This spice of promptness, men of great understanding do want, for that it is a part of the imagination: for which cause, having the tokens before their eyes (which give them notice how the disease fareth) it worketh no manner alteration in their senses, for that they want imagination. A physician once asked me in great secrecy, what the cause was, that he having studied with much curiosity all the rules and considerations of the art prognosticative; & being therein thoroughly instructed, yet could never hit the truth in any prognostication which he made. To whom (I remember) I yielded this answer that the art of Physic is learned with one power, and put in execution with another. This man had a very good understanding, but wanted imagination: but in this doctrine there ariseth a difficulty very great, and that is, how physicians of great imagination, can learn the art of physic, seeing they want that of understanding: and if it be true that such were better than those who were well learned, to what end serveth it to spend time in the schools? to this may be answered, that first to know the art of physic is a matter very important: for in two or three years, a man may learn all that which the ancients have been getting in two or three thousand. And if a man should herein ascertain himself by experience, it were requisite that he lived some thousands of years, and in experimenting of medicines, he should kill an infinite number of persons before he could attain to the knowledge of their qualities: from whence we are freed, by reading the books of reasonable experienced physicians, who give advertisement of that in writing, which they found out in the whole course of their lives; to the end that the physicians of these days may minister some receipts with assurance, and take heed of othersome as venomous.  
Besides this, we are to weet that the common & vulgar points of all arts are very plain and easy to learn, and yet the most important of the whole work. And contrariwise, the most curious and subtle, are the most obscure, and of least necessity for curing. And men of great imagination, are not altogether deprived of understanding, nor of memory. Wherethrough, by having these two powers in some measure they are able to learn the most necessary points of Physic: for that they are plainest, and with the good imagination which they have, can better look into the disease and the cause thereof, than the cunningest doctors. Besides that the imagination is it which findeth out the occasion of the remedy that ought to be applied, in which grace the greatest part of practice consisteth: for which cause Galen said, that the proper name of a physician, was The finder out of occasion.  
Now to be able to know the place, the time, and the occasion, for certain, is a work of the imagination, since it toucheth figure and correspondence; but the difficulty consisteth in knowing (amongst so many differences as there are of the imagination) to which of them the practice of Physic appertaineth, for it is certain, that they all agree not in one self particular reason, which contemplation hath given me much more toil and labour of spirit than all the residue: and yet for all that, I cannot as yet yield the same a fitting name, unless it spring from a less degree of heat which partaketh that difference of imagination, wherewith verses and songs are indited. Neither do I rely altogether on this, for the reason whereon I ground myself, is, that such as I have marked to be good practitioners, do all piddle somewhat in the art of versifying, and raise not up their contemplation very high, and their verses are not of any rare excellency, which may also betide, for that their heat exceedeth that term which is requisite for poetry: and if it so come to pass for this reason, the heat ought to hold such quality, as it somewhat dry the substance of the brain, and yet much resolve not the natural heat, albeit (if the same pass further) it breedeth no evil difference of the wit for Physic, for it uniteth the understanding to the imagination by adustion. But the imagination is not so good for curing, as this which I seek, which inviteth a man to be a witch, superstitious, a magician, a deceiver, a palmister, a fortune teller, and a calker: for the diseases of men are so hidden, and deliver their motions with so great secrecy, that it behoveth always to go calking what the matter is.  
This difference of imagination may hardly be found in Spain, for tofore we have proved that the inhabitants of this region want memory and imagination, and have good discourse: neither yet the imagination of such as dwell towards the North, is of avail in Physic, for it is very slow and slack, only the same is towardly to make clocks, pictures, poppets, & other ribaldries which are impertinent for man's service.  
Egypt alone is the region which engendereth in his inhabitants this difference of imagination, wherethrough the historians never make an end of telling, how great enchanters the Egyptians are, and how ready for obtaining things, and finding remedies to their necessities. joseph to exaggerate the wisdom of Solomon, said in this manner, So great was the knowledge and wisdom which Solomon received of God, that he outpassed all the ancients, and even the very Egyptians, who were reputed the wisest of all others. And Plato also said, that the Egyptians exceeded all the men of the world in skill how to get their living; which ability appertaineth to the imagination. And that this is true, may plainly appear, for that all the sciences belonging to the imagination, were first devised in Egypt, as the Mathematics, Astrology, Arithmetic, Perspective, judiciary, and the rest. But the argument which most overruleth me in this behalf, is, that when Francis of Valois king of France, was molested by a long infirmity, and saw that the Physicians of his household and court, could yield him no remedy, he would say every time when his fever increased, It was not possible that any Christian Physician could cure him, neither at their hands did he ever hope for recovery: wherethrough one time aggrieved to see himself thus vexed with this fever, he dispatched a post into Spain, praying the emperor Charles the fifth, that he would send him a jew Physician, the best of his court, touching whom he had understood, that he was able to yield him remedy for his sickness, if by art it might be effected. At this request the Spaniards made much game, and all of them concluded it was an humorous conceit of a man, whose brains were turmoiled with the fever. But for all this, the Emperor gave commandment that such a Physician should be sought out, if any there were, though to find him they should be driven to send out of his dominions; and when none could be met withal, he sent a Physician newly made a Christian, supposing that he might serve to satisfy the king's humour. But the Physician being arrived in France, and brought to the king's presence; there passed between them a gracious discourse, in which it appeared that the Physician was a Christian: and therefore the king would receive no physic at his hands. The king with opinion which he had conceived of the physician, that he was an Hebrew, by way of passing the time, asked him whether he were not as yet weary in looking for the Messiah promised in the law? The physician answered; Sir I expect not any Messiah promised in the jews law. You are very wise in that (replied the king): for the tokens which were delivered in the divine scripture, whereby to know his coming, are all fulfilled many days ago. This number of days (rejoined the physician) we Christians do well reckon: for there are now finished 1542 years, that he came and conversed in the world 33 years; in the end of which he died on the cross, and the third day rose again, and afterwards ascended into heaven, where he now remaineth. Why then quoth the king you are a Christian? yea Sir, by the grace of God, I am a Christian (quoth the physician) then (answered the king) return you home to your own dwelling in good time: for in mine own house and court I have Christian physicians very excellent, and I held you for a jew, who (in mine opinion) are those that have best natural ability to cure my disease. After this manner he licensed him without once suffering him to feel his pulse, or see his state, or telling him one word of his grief. And forthwith he sent to Constantinople for a jew, who healed him with the only milk of a she Ass.  
This imagination of king Francis (as I think) was very true, and I have so conceived it to be, for that in the great hot distemperatures of the brain, I have proved tofore, how the imagination findeth out that, which (the party being sound) could never have done. And because it shall not seem that I have spoken in jest, and without relying herein upon a material ground, you shall understand that the varieties of men, aswell in the compositions of the body, as of the wit and conditions of the soul, spring from their inhabiting countries of different temperature, from drinking divers waters, and from not using all of them one kind of food. Wherein Plato said, Some through variable winds and heats, are amongst themselves divers in manners and kinds: others through the waters and food which spring of the earth, who not only in their bodies, but in their minds also, can skill to do things better and worse, as if he should say, some men are different from others, either by reason of the contrary air, or through drinking several waters, or for that they feed not all upon one kind of meat, and this difference is discerned not only in the countenance and demeanour of the body, but also in the wit of the soul.  
If I then shall now prove, that the people of Israel dwelled many years in Egypt, and that departing from thence, they did eat & drink waters & meats, which are appropriate to make this difference of imagination, I shall then yield a demonstration for the opinion of the king of France, and by consequence we shall understand what wits of men are in Spain to be made choice of, for studying the art of Physic. As touching the first, we must know, that Abraham ask tokens whereby to be assured that he or his descendants should possess the land of promise, the text saith, that whilst he slept, God made him answer saying, Know that thy seed shall be a stranger in a country not his own, and they shall make them underlings in bondage, and afflict them for 400 years, notwithstanding I will judge that nation whom they serve, and after this, they shall departed from thence with great substance; which prophesy was accomplished: albeit God for certain respects, added thereunto 30 years more, for which cause the scripture saith, But the abode of the children of Israel in Egypt was 430 years, which being finished, that very day the whole army of the Lord departed out of the land of Egypt. But although this text say manifestly, that the people of Israel abode in Egypt 400 years, a gloss declareth, that thief years were the whole time which Israel went on pilgrimage, until he possessed his own country. In as much as he remained in Egypt but 210 years, which declaration agreeth not well with that which S. Stephen the Protomartyr made, in his discourse to the jews, namely that the people of Israel was 430 years in the bondage of Egypt.  
And albeit the abode of 210 years sufficed, that the qualities of Egypt might take hold in the people of Israel, yet the time whiles they lived abroad, was no lost season, in respect of that which appertaineth to the wit, for those who live in bondage, in misery, in affliction, and in strange countries, engender much choler adust, because they want liberty of speech, and of revenging their injuries: and this humour, when the same is grown dry, becometh the instrument of subtlety, of craft, and of malice: whence we see by experience, that if a man rake hell for bad manners and conditions, he cannot find worse than in a slave, whose imagination always occupieth itself in devising how to procure damage to his master, and freedom to himself. Moreover the land which the people of Israel walked through, was not much estranged nor different from the qualities of Egypt: for in respect of the misery thereof, God promised Abraham to give him another, much more abundant and fruitful. And this is a matter greatly verified, as well in good natural Philosophy, as in experience, that barren and beggarly regions, not fat, nor plentiful of fruit, engender men of very sharp wit. And contrariwise abundant and fertile soils, bring forth persons big limmed, courageous, and of great bodily forces, but very slow of wit.  
Touching Greece, the historians never make an end to recount, how appropriate that region is to breed men of great ability, and particularly Galen avoucheth, that it is held a miracle for a man to find a fool in Athens. And we must note that this was a city the most miserable, and most barren of all the rest in Greece. Whence we collect, that through the qualities of Egypt, and of the Provinces where the Hebrew people lived, they grew very quick of capacity. But it behoveth likewise to understand for what cause the temperature of Egypt produceth this difference of imagination. And this will fall out a plain matter when you are done to ware, that in this region, the sun yieldeth a fervent heat: and therefore the inhabitants have their brain dried, and choler adust, the instrument of wiliness and aptness: In which sense, Aristotle demandeth why the men of Aethiopia & Egypt, have their feet crooked, & are commonly curlpated and flat nosed? to which problem he answereth, that the much heat of the country roasteth the substance of these members, and wrieth them, as it draweth together a piece of leather set by the fire; and for the same cause, their hair curleth, and themselves also are wily. And that such as inhabit hot countries, are wiser than those who are born in cold regions, we have already proved by the opinion of Aristotle: who demandeth whence it grows, that men are wiser in hot climates than in cold? But he witted not to answer this problem, nor make distinction of wisdom: for we have proved heretofore, that in man there rest two sorts of wisdom; one whereof Plato said, Knowledge which is severed from justice, ought rather to be termed craft than wisdom: another there is found accompanied with justice and simplicity, without doubleness, and without wiles; and this is properly called Wisdom: for it goeth always guided by justice and duty. They who inhabit very hot countries, are wise in the first kind of wisdom, and such are those of Egypt.  
Now let us see when the people of Israel was departed out of Egypt, and come into the desert, what meat they did eat, what water they drank, and of what temperature the air was where they travailed? that we may know whether upon this occasion, the wit with which they issued out of bondage, took exchange; or whether the same were more confirmed in them? Forty years (saith the text) God maintained this people with Manna, a meat so delicate and savoury, as any might be, that ever men tasted in the world. In sort that Moses seeing the delicacy and goodness thereof, commanded his brother Aaron to fill a vessel, and place the same in the Ark of confederacy, to the end the descendants of this people, when they were settled in the land of promise, might see the bread with which God had fed their fathers, whiles they lived in the wilderness, and how bad payment they yielded him in exchange of such cherishments. And to the end that we who have notseen this meat, may know of what manner the same was: it will do well that we describe the Manna which nature maketh; and so adjoining thereunto the conceit of a great delicacy, we may wholly imagine his goodness. The material cause of which Manna is engendered, is a very delicate vapour, which the sun, with the force of his heat, draweth up from the earth; the which taking stay aloft, is concocted and made perfect: and then the cold of the night coming on, it congealeth, and through his weightiness, turneth to fall upon the trees and stones, where men gather the same, and preserve it in vessels to serve for food. It is called Deawy, and Airy honey, through the resemblance which it beareth to the dew, and for that it is made in the air. His colour is white, his savour sweet as honey: his figure like that of Coriander, which signs the holy Scripture placeth also in the Manna, which the people of Israel did eat: and therefore I carry an imagination, that both were semblable in nature. But if that which God created were of more delicate substance, so much the better shall we confirm our opinion. But I am ever of opinion that God applied himself to natural means, when with them he could perform what he meant; and where nature wanted, his omnipotency supplied. This I say, because to give them Manna to eat in the desert (besides that which hereby he would signify) me seemeth was founded in the self disposition of the earth, which (even at this day) produceth the best Manna in the world: through which Galen affirmeth, that on Mount Libanus (which is not far distant from this place) there is great and very choice abundance: in sort, that the country people are wont to sing in their pastimes, That jupiter raineth honey in that region. And though it be true, that God miraculously created that Manna in such quantity, at such time, and on special days: yet it may be that it partaked the same nature with ours, as had also the water which Moses drew forth of the rock; and the fire which Elias with his word caused to rain from heaven; all of them natural things, though miraculously brought to pass.  
The Manna described by the holy Scripture, it saith was as dew, & as the seed of Coriander, white, & in taste like honey, which conditions are also in the Manna produced by nature. The temperature of this meat, the Physicians say, is hot, and consisting of subtle and very delicate parts, which composition the Manna eaten by the jews, should also seem to have: whereon (complaining of his tenderness) they said in this manner, Our soul hath a fulsomeness at this slight meat; as if they should say, that they could no longer endure nor brook so light a meat in their stomach: and the Philosophy of this was, that their stomachs had been made strong by onions, chibals, and leeks; and coming to eat a meat of so small resistance, it wholly with them turned into choler. And for this cause, Galen gave the charge that men endowed with much natural heat, should forbear to eat honey or other light meats: for they would turn to corruption, and in steed of digestion, would parch up like soot.  
The like hereof befell to the Hebrues, as touching Manna, which with them wholly turned into choler adust, and therefore they were altogether dry and thin: for this meat had no corpulency to fatten them. Our soul (said they) is dry, and our eyes see nothing but Manna. The water which they drank after this meat, was such as they would desire; and if they could not find any such, God showed to Moses a wood of so divine virtue, that dipping the same in gross and salted waters, it made them to become delicate and of good savour: and when they had no sort of water at all, Moses took the rod, with which he had parted the red Sea, and striking therewith the rocks, there issued springs of waters so delicate and savoury, as their taste could desire. In sort, that S. Paul saith, The rock followed them, as if he should say, The water of the rock seconded their taste, issuing delicate, sweet, and savoury. And they had accustomed their stomachs before, to drink waters thick and brinish: for in Egypt (saith Galen) they boiled them ere they could serve for drink, for that they were naughty and corrupt, so as afterwards drinking waters so delicate, it could not fall out otherwise, but that they should turn into choler, for that they found small resistance. Water requireth the same qualities, to digest well in our stomach (saith Galen) & not to corrupt, that the meat hath whereon we accustomably feed. If the stomach be strong, it behoveth to give the same strong meat, which may answer in proportion: if the same be weak and delicate, such also the meat ought to be. The like regard is to be held as touching the water: wherethrough we see by experience, that if a man use to drink gross water; he never quencheth his thirst with the purer: neither feeleth it in his stomach. Rather the same increaseth his thirst: for the excessive heat of the stomach burneth and resolveth it so soon as it is received, because therein is no resistance.  
The air which they enjoyed in the desert, we may also say, that it was subtle and delicate: for journeying over mountains, and through uninhabited places, they had the same always fresh, cleansed, and without any corruption: for they never made long stay in any one place. So did it always carry a temperature: for by day a cloud was set before the sun, which suffered him not to scorch over vehemently; and by night, a pillar of fire which moderated the same. And to enjoy an air of this manner (Aristotle affirmeth) doth much quicken the wit. We may consider then that the men of this folk must needs have a seed very delicate and adust, eating such meat as Manna was, and drinking the waters before specified, and breathing and enjoying an air so cleansed and pleasant, as also that the Hebrew women bred flowers very subtle and delicate.  
Again, let us call to mind, that which Aristotle said, that the flowers being subtle and delicate, the child who is bred of them, shallbe a man of great capacity. How much it importeth, that for begetting children of great sufficiency, the fathers do feed on delicate meats, we will prove at large in the last chapter of this work. And because all the Hebrues did eat of one self so spiritual and delicate meat, and drank of one self water, all their children and posterity proved sharp and great of wit in matters appertaining to this world.  
Now then, when the people of Israel came into the land of promise, with so great a wit as we have expressed, there befell unto them afterwards so many travails, dearths, sieges of enemies, subjections, bondages, and ill entreatings: that though they had not brought from Egypt and the wilderness, that temperature, hot, dry, and adust before specified: they would yet have made it so by this dismal life: for continual sadness and toil, uniteth the vital spirits, and the arterial blood, in the brain, in the liver, and in the heart: and there staying one above another, they grow to dryness and adustion. Wherethrough, oft times they procure the fever, and their ordinary is to make melancholy by adustion, whereof they (in manner) do all partake even to this day, in respect of that (which Hypocrates saith) Fear and sadness continuing a long time, signifieth melancholy. This choler adust (we said before) to be the instrument of promptness, craftiness, sharpness, subtlety, and maliciousness. And this is applied to the conjectures of Physic, and by the same a man getteth notice of the diseases, their causes and remedies. Wherefore king Francis understood this marvelous well, and it was no lightness of the brain, or invention of the devil, which he uttered. But through his great fever, lasting so many days, and with the sadness to find himself sick and without remedy, his brain grew dry, and his imagination rose to such a point, of which we made proof tofore, that if it have the temperature behoveful, a man will on a sudden deliver that which he never learned. But there presents itself a difficulty very great against all these things rehearsed by us, and that is, that if the children or nephews of those who were in Egypt, and enjoyed the Manna, the waters, and the subtle air of the wilderness, had been made choice of for physicians, it might seem, that king Francis opinion were in some part probable, for the reasons by us reported. But that their posterity should preserve till our days those dispositions of the Manna, the water, the air, the afflictions, and the travails, which their ancestors endured in the prison of Babylon, it is a matter hard to be conceived: for if in 430 years, during which the people of Israel lived in Egypt, and 40 in the desert, their seed could purchase those dispositions of ability, better, and with more facility could they lose it again in 2000 years, whilst they have been absent. And specially sithence their coming into Spain, a region so contrary to Egypt, and where they have fed upon different meats, and drunk waters of nothing so good temperature and substance as those other.  
This is agreeable to the nature of man, and whatsoother living creature and plant, which forthwith partaketh the conditions of the earth where they live, and lose those which they brought with them from elsewhere. And whatsoever instance they can allege, the like will betide it within few days beyond all gainsaying.  
Hypocrates recounteth of a certain sort of men, who to be different from the vulgar, chose for a token of their nobility, to have their head like a sugarloaf. And to shape this figure by art, when the child was born, the midwives took care to bind their heads with sweaths, and bands, until they were fashioned to the form. And this artificialness grew to such force, as it was converted into nature: for in process of time, all the children that were born of nobility, had their head sharp from their mother's womb. So from thenceforth, the art and diligence of the midwives herein, became superfluous. But so soon as they left nature to her liberty, and her own ordering, without oppressing her any longer with art, she turned by little and little to recover again the figure which she had before.  
In like sort might it befall the children of Israel, who notwithstanding the region of Egypt, the Manna, the delicate waters, and their sorrowfulness, wrought those dispositions of wit in that seed: yet those reasons and respects surceasing, and other contrary growing on, it is certain that by little and little the qualities of the Manna would have worn away, and other far different therefrom have grown on, conformable to the country where they inhabited, to the meats which they fed upon, to the waters which they drank, & to the air which they breathed. This doubt in natural philosophy holdeth little difficulty: for there are some accidents to be found, which are brought in at a moment, & afterwards endure for ever in the subject, without possibility of corrupting. Others there are, which waist as much time in undoing, as they occupied in engrafting, & some more, some less, according to the action of the agent, and the disposition of the patiented. For example of the first, we must know, That a certain man through a great fear whereinto he was driven, rested so transformed and changed in colour, that he seemed dead; and the same lasted not only during all the time of his own life, but also the children which he begat had the same colour: without that he could find any remedy to take it away. Conformable hereunto, it may be, that in 430 years, whilst the people of Israel led their lives in Egypt, 40 in the wilderness, and 60 in the bondage of Babylon there needed more than 3000 years, that this seed of Abraham should take a full loss of their disposition of wit, occasioned by this Manna, seeing to reform the bad colour, settled upon a sudden through fear, more than 100 years were requisite. But because the truth of this doctrine may be understood from the root, it behoveth to resolve two doubts which serve to the purpose, and as yet I have not cleared. The first is, whence it cometh, that meats, by how much the more delicate and savoury they are, as hens, and partridge; so much the sooner the stomach doth abhor and loath them? and contrariwise, we see that a man eateth beef all the year long without receiving any annoyance thereby, and if he eat hens flesh but three or four days together, the fifth he cannot abide the savour thereof; but that it will turn his stomach upside-down. The second is, whence it cometh, that bread of wheat, and flesh of mutton, not being of substance so good and savoury, as hen and partridge; yet the stomach never loatheth them, though we feed thereon all our lives long? But wanting bread we cannot eat other meats, neither do they content us.  
He that can shape an answer to these two doubts, shall easily understand for what cause the descendants of the people of Israel, have not yet lost the dispositions & accidents which Manna brought into that seed: neither will the promptness of wit, and subtlety whereof they then possessed themselves, so soon take an end. Two certain and very true principles there are in natural philosophy, on which the answer and resolution of these doubts dependeth. The first is, That all powers, (whatsoever) which govern man, are naked and deprived of the conditions and qualities which rest in their object, to the end that they may know and give judgement of all the differences. The eyes partake this property, who being to receive into themselves all figures and colours, it was of necessity, utterly to deprive them of figures and colours. For if they were pale, as in those who are overcome with the yellow jaundice, all things whereon they looked would appear to them of the same colour. So the tongue, which is the instrument of taste, aught to be void of all savours: and if the same be sweet or bitter, we know by experience, that whatsoever we eat or drink hath the like taste. And the same may be avouched of hearing, of smelling, and of feeling. The second principle is, that all things created, naturally covet their preservation, and labour to endure for ever, and that the being which God and nature have given them, may never take end: notwithstanding that afterward they are to possess a better nature. By this principle, all natural things endowed with knowledge and sense, abhor and fly from that which altereth and corrupteth their natural composition.  
The stomach is naked and deprived of the substance and qualities of all meats in the world, as the eye is of colours and figures, and when we eat aught, though the stomach overcome it, yet the meat turneth against the stomach, for that the same is of a contrary principle, and altereth and corrupteth his temperature and substance, for no agent is of such force, but that in doing, it also suffereth. Meats that are very delicate and pleasing do much alter the stomach; first, because it digesteth and embraceth them with great appetit and liking, and then, through their being so subtle and void of excrements, they pierce into the substance of the stomach, from whence they cannot departed again: the stomach then feeling that this meat altereth his nature, and taketh away the proportion which he carrieth to other meats, groweth to abhor the same, and if he must needs feed thereon, it behoveth to use many salads and seasonings, thereby to beguile him.  
All this, Manna had even from the beginning, for though the same were a meat of such delicacy and pleasing relish, yet in the end, the people of Israel found it fulsome, and therefore said, Our soul loatheth this over light meat. A complaint far unworthy of a people so specially favoured by God, who had pretended a remedy in that behalf, which was, that Manna had those relishes and tastes which well agreed with them, to the end they might eat thereof. Thou sentest them bread from heaven, which had in it all pleasingness; for which cause many amongst them fed thereon with good appetite, for they had their bones, their sinews, and their flesh, so embued with Manna and his qualities, that by means of the resemblance from each to other, they longed after nothing else. The like befalleth in bread of wheat, and weather's flesh, whereon we accustomably feed.  
Gross meats and of good substance, as beef, have much excrements, and the stomach receiveth them not with such desire, as those that are delicate and of good relish, and therefore is longer ere the same take alteration by them. Hence cometh it, that to corrupt the alteration which Manna made in one day, it behoveth to feed a whole month upon contrary meats. And (after this reckoning) to deface the qualities that Manna brought into the seed in the space of 40 years, there need 4000 and upward. And if any man will not herewith rest satisfied, let us say, that as God brought out of Egypt the 12 tribes of Israel, so he had taken then 12 male, and 12 female moors of Aethiopia, and had placed them in our country, in how many years think we, would these moors and their posterity, linger to leave their native colour, not mixing themselves the while with white persons? to me it seemeth a long space of years would be requisite. For though 200 years have passed over our heads, sithence the first Egyptians came out of Egypt into Spain, yet their posterity have not forlorn that their delicacy of wit and promptness, nor yet that roasted colour which their ancestors brought with them from Egypt. Such is the force of man's seed when it receiveth thereinto any well rooted quality. And as in Spain the moors communicate the colour of their elders, by means of their seed, though they be out of Aethiopia, so also the people of Israel coming from thence, may communicate to their descendants their sharpness of wit, without remaining in Egypt, or eating Manna: for to be ignorant or wise, is as well an accident in man, as to be black or white. True it is, that they are not now so quick and prompt, as they were a thousand years since: for from the time that they left to eat Manna, their posterity have ever lessened hitherto, because they used contrary meats, and inhabited countries different from Egypt: neither drank waters of such delicacy as in the wilderness. As also by mingling with those who descended from the Gentiles, who wanted this difference of wit: but that which cannot be denied them, is, that as yet they have not lost it altogether.   

CHAP. XIII.  
By what means it may be showed, to what difference of ability the art of warfare appertaineth, and by what signs the man may be known, who is endowed with this manner of wit.  
WHat is the cause (saith Aristotle) that seeing Fortitude is not the greatest of all virtues, but justice and Prudence are greater than it: yet the commonwealth, and in a manner all men with a common consent do make greater account, and within themselves, do more honour a valiant man than either the just or wise; though placed in never so high callings or offices. To this problem Aristotle answereth, saying; there is no king in the world who doth not either make war, or maintain war against some other: and for somuch as the valiant procure them glory and empire, take revenge on their enemies, and preserve their estate, they yield chiefest honour, not to the principal virtue, which is justice, but to that by which they reap most profit and advantage. For if they did not in this wise entreat the valiant, how were it possible, that kings should find captains and soldiers, who would willingly jeopard their lives to defend their goods and estates?  
Of the Asiaticans it is recounted, that there was a people inhabiting a part thereof, who bore themselves very courageously; and being asked why they had neither king nor law: they made answer, that laws made men cowards, and seeing it was necessary to undergo the hazard of the wars, for depriving another of his estate, they made choice to fight for their own behoof, and themselves to reap the benefit of the victory. But this was an answer rather of barbarous men than reasonable people, who well know, that without a king, without a commonwealth, and without laws, it is impossible to preserve men in peace. That which Aristotle said, serveth very well to the purpose, though there be a better answer to be framed, namely, That when Rome honoured her captains with those triumphs and solemnities, she did not only reward the courage of the triumpher, but also the justice with which he maintained his army in peace and concord, the wisdom with which he performed his enterprises, and their temperancy used in abstaining from wine, women, and meat, which trouble the judgement, and turn counsels into error. Yea wisdom is more highly to be regarded and rewarded in a general, than courage and manliness: for as Vegetius well said, Few over courageous captains bring their enterprises to lucky pass. Which groweth for that wisdom is more necessary in war, than courage in bickering: but Vegetius could never attain to the notice what manner of wisdom this is: neither could plot down, with what difference of wit he ought to be endowed, who taketh charge in war. Neither do I ought marvel thereat: for the manner of philosophy whereon this dependeth, was not then devised. True it is, that to verify this point, answereth not our first intent, which purporteth to make choice of apt wits for learning. But martial affairs are so dangerous, and of so deep counsel: and it falleth out a matter so important for a king to know well unto whom he credit his power and state, that we shall perform no less thanks worthy a part of service to the common wealth, to teach this difference of wit and his signs, than in the other which we have already described. For which cause we must note, that Malitia and Militia, uz. martial matters, and malice, have as it were one self name, and likewise one self definition. For changing a into i, of malitia you make militia, and of militia, malitia, with great facility. What the nature and property of malice is, Cicero teacheth, saying, Malice is a way of hurting, crafty, and full of guile. In war (likewise) nothing falleth so much into consideration, as how to offend the enemy, and defend ourselves from his entrappings. Therefore the best property whereof a General can be possessed, is to be malicious with his enemy, and never to construe any his demeanours to a good sense, but to the worst that may be, and to stand on his guard.  
Believe not (saith Ecclesiasticus) thine enemy, with his lips he sweeteneth, and in his heart he betrayeth thee, to make thee fall into the dike: he weary with his eyes, and if he light upon a fit occasion, he will not be satisfied with thy blood. Hereof we find a manifest example in the holy scripture; for the people of Israel being besieged in Bethulia, and straightened with hunger and thirst, that famous lady judith, issued out with a resolution to kill Holofernes, and going towards the army of the Assyrians, she was taken by the sentinels and guards, and being asked whether she was bound, made answer with a twofold mind; I am a daughter of the Hebrues, whom you hold besieged, and fly onto you, for I have learned that they shall fall into your hands, and that you shall evil entreat them, because they would not yield themselves to your mercy: therefore I determined to fly unto Holofernes, and to discover unto him the secrets of this obstinate people, showing him how he may enter without the loss of any one soldier.  
So judith being brought to Holofernes presence, threw herself down to the ground, and with closed hands began to worship him and utter words full of deceit, the most craftily that might be, in sort that Holofernes and all his counsel, verily believed she said nothing but truth: but she not forgetful what in heart she had purposed, found a convenient occasion, and chopped off his head.  
Contrary hereunto are the conditions of a friend, and therefore it behoveth ever to yield him credit, wherethrough Holofernes should have done better to believe Achior, seeing he was his friend, and on zeal that he should not leave the siege with dishonour, said unto him, Sir, first inform yourself whether this people have sinned against God, for if it be so, himself will deliver them into your hands, without that you shall need to conquer them; but if he hold them in grace, know for certain, that he will defend them, and we shall not be able to vanquish them. Holofernes conceived displeasure at this advertisement, as a man confident, lascivious and a wine bibber, which three things turn topsy-turvy that counsel which is requisite for the art of war. For which cause Plato said, he liked very well of a law which the carthaginians had, by which they commanded, that the General whilst he had charge of the army, should drink no wine, for this liquor (as Aristotle affirmeth) maketh a man of wit be quite burned up with choler (as Holofernes showed in those so furious words which he spoke to Achior.)  
Now that wit which is requisite for ambushes and stratagems, aswell to prepare them as to perceive them, and to find out such remedy as appertaineth, Cicero describeth, drawing his descent from this noun versutia, which he saith is derived from this verb versor: for those who are winding, crafty, double, and cavillers, upon a sudden contrive their wiles, and employ their conceit with facility: and so the same Cicero exemplified it, saying; Chrysippus a man doubtless winding and crafty. I call those winding whose mind is suddenly wound about. This property to attain suddenly the means is solertia (quickness) and appertaineth to the imagination: for the powers which consist in heat perform speedily their work. And for this cause men of great understanding are little worth for the war, for this power is very slow in his operation and a friend of uprightness, of plainness, of simplicity and mercy: all which is wont to breed much damage in war. These are good to treat with friends, with whom the wisdom of the imagination is not needful; but only the rightfulness and singleness of the understanding, which admitteth no doubleness, nor doth any wrong: therefore with the enemy it booteth nothing, for he always studieth to offend with wiles, and such wit is requisite wherewith to counterguard ourselves. And so Christ our redeemer advised his disciples, saying; Behold I send you as sheep amongst wolves: be you therefore wise as serpents, and simple as dooves. With our enemies we must practise wisdom, and with our friend's plainness and simplicity.  
Now if the captain be not to give credit to his enemy, but is always to misdoubt that he will go beyond him, it is necessary that he hold a difference of imagination, forecastfull, wary, and which can skill to discern the wiles which come veiled with any coverture: for the self power which finds them out can only devise the remedies which are behoveful in that behalf: that seemeth to be another difference of the imagination which deviseth the engines and warlike instruments, whereby unvincible fortresses are won, which pitcheth the camp and marshalleth every squadron in his due place, and which knoweth the occasions of joining and retiring; which plotteth treaties, consortments and capitulations with the enemy: for all which the understanding is impertinent as are the ears to see withal. And therefore I nothing doubt, but that the art of war appertaineth to the imagination, for all whatsoever a good captain is to perform importeth consonance, figure and correspondence.  
Now the difficulty resteth to set down with what difference of the imagination in particular, war is to be managed. And in this I cannot resolve with certainty, because the knowing thereof is very nice: yet I conjecture that it requireth a degree more of heat than the practice of physic, and that it alloy choler but not utterly quench it.  
This is very manifest: for those captains who are full of promptness and subtlety, are not very courageous, nor desirous of bickering, neither covet to come to handystrokes; but by stratagems & fetches, without adventuring a broken pate, do bring their purposes to pass. Which property, better pleased Vegetius than any other. Good captains (saith he) not by open war, in which the peril is common, but by secret practices, ever assay with the safety of their own soldiers, to cut their enemies in pieces, or at least to make them afraid. The fruit of this manner of wit, the Roman Senate very wisely looked into: for though they had many famous captains, who achieved sundry wars, yet returning to Rome to receive the triumph and glory due to their enterprise, so great were the plaints which the parents made for their children, the children for the parents, the wives for their husbands, and brothers for brethren, that through the sorrow for them who perished in the wars, they could take little pleasure in the sports and pastimes. Wherefore the Senate took a resolution, not to seek out so courageous captains, wholly desirous to come to hand strokes: but men somewhat timorous, & very ready, as Q. Fabius, of whom it is written, that it was a wonder to see him offer a pitched battle in the open field, and specially when he was far from Rome, whereby in ill successes he could not readily be relieved, and he did noughtels but give way to the enemy, and devise stratagems and wiles, with which he exploited great enterprises, and obtained many victories, without the loss of any one soldier. He was received into Rome with great joy of all men: for if he carried forth 100000 soldiers, he returned with as many, unless some perhaps miscarried by sickness. The shout which the people gave at his return was (as Ennius reporteth) of this tenor:  One man by lingering, only us relieved, 
As if they had said, This man with giving way to our enemies, hath made us lords of the world, and brought back our soldiers to their houses in safety. Some captains have since that time endeavoured to imitate him: but because they wanted his wit and readiness, they sundry times let slip many fit occasions of fight, whence greater damages and inconveniences arose, than if they had speedily joined battle. We may also take example of that famous Carthaginian captain, of whom Plutarch writeth these words, Hannibal after he had attained this so great a victory, commanded that many Italian prisoners should freely be set at liberty without ransom, to the end the fame of his courtesy and pardoning might be dispersed among the people; albeit of disposition he were very wide from this virtue: for of his own nature he was fell and unmerciful, and in such sort was trained up from the tender years of his youth, that he never learned laws or civil conditions, but wars, slaughters, and betrayings of the enemy. Where through he grew to be a captain very cruel, and malicious in beguiling men, and always devising how he might entrap his enemy. And when he saw he could not prevail by open war, he sought to get the upper hand by policies, as was plainly seen in this deed of arms by us rehearsed, and by the battle which he fought against Sempronius, near the river Trebia. The tokens to know a man that is possessed of this difference of wit, are very strange and well worthy of contemplation. Wherethrough Plato saith, that the man who is very wise (in this sort of ability which we trace out) cannot be courageous nor well conditioned: for Aristotle saith, That wisdom consisteth in cold, and stomach and manliness in heat. Therefore these two qualities being repugnant and contrary, it is impossible that a man be very full of hardiness, and also of wisdom therewithal. For which cause it is necessary that choler be burned, and become choler adust, to the end that a man may prove wise: but where this spice of melancholy is found, inasmuch as the same is cold, fear & cowardice are straightways entertained. In sort, that craft and readiness require heat, for that the same is a work of the imagination, but not in such degree as courage, wherethrough they repugn each to other in extension. But herein befalleth a matter worth the noting, that of the four moral virtues, justice, Prudence, Fortitude, and Temperance; the two first require a wit and good temperature, to the end that they may be put in practice: for if a judge be not endowed with understanding, to make himself capable of the point of justice, little avails it that he carry a good will to render every man his due. Since this his good meaning may wander out of the way, and wrong the true proprietary. The like is to be understood of wisdom: for if the only will sufficed to set things in good order, then in no work good or evil, should any error be committed. There is no thief whatsoever, who seeketh not to rob in such manner as he may not be espied, and there is no captain, who desireth not to be owner of so much wisdom, as may serve to vanquish his enemy. But a thief that is not his craftsmaster in filching, soon falleth to be discovered; and the captain that wanteth imagination, ere long is overcome. Fortitude, and Temperance are two virtues, which men carry in their fist, though they want a natural disposition: for if a man be disposed to set little of his life, and show hardiness, he may well do it: but if he be courageous of his own natural disposition, Aristotle and Plato affirm very truly, it is not possible that he can be wise though he would. In sort, that by this reason, there groweth no repugnancy to unite the wisdom of the mind with courage: for a wise and skilful man, hath the understanding to hazard his honour in respect of his soul, and his life in respect of his honour, and his goods in respect of his life, and so he doth. Hence it comes, that gentlemen for that they are so much honoured, are so courageous; and there is none who will endure more hardness in the wars, for that they are brought up in so many pleasures, to the end they may not be termed ribalds. Heeron is that byword grounded, God keep me from a Gent. by day, and a thief by night; for the one, because he is seen, and the other that he may not be known, do fight with double resolution: on this self reason, is the religion of Malta grounded, who knowing how much it importeth nobility, to be a man of valour, have a firm law, that all those of their order shallbe issued from gentility, both on the father's side and the mothers: for so each of them must in the combat show himself worth two of a base progeny. But if a gentleman had the charge given him, to encamp an army, and the order whereby he should put the enemy in rout, if he had not a wit appropriate hereunto, he would commit and utter a thousand disorders: for wisdom lieth not in men's disposition. But if there were recommended unto him the guard of a gate: they might sound sleep on his eyes, although by nature he were a baggage. The sentence of Plato is to be construed, when a wise man followeth his own natural inclination, and doth not correct the same by reason. And in that sort it is true, that a very wise man cannot of his natural disposition be courageous: for choler adust (which maketh him wise) maketh him also saith Hypocrates timorous and fearful. The second property, wherewith a man possessed of this difference of wit cannot be endowed, is to be pleasant and of acquaint behaviour: for with his imagination he frameth many plots, and weeteth that whatsoever error or negligence, are the way to cast away an army, wherethrough he ever carrieth an eye to the main chance. But people of little worth, call carefulness a toil, chastisement cruelty, and mercy softness; suffering and dissembling of lewd parts a good disposition. And this verily springeth, because men are sots, who pierce not into the true value of things, nor in what sort they ought to be managed: but the wise and skilful cannot hold patience, nor bear to see matters ill handled, though they nothing appertain unto themselves, and therefore live a small while, and with much trouble of spirit. Whence Solomon said, I gave also my mind to understand wisdom, doctrine, errors, and folly; and found that in these also, there is weariness and affliction of spirit: for into much wisdom entereth much displeasure, and who so attaineth Science, getteth sorrow. In which words it seemeth that Solomon gave us to understand, that he lived better contented being ignorant, than after he had received wisdom. And so verily it came to pass: for the ignorant live most careless; inasmuch as nothing giveth them pain nor vexation, and they little reck who have a better capcase than themselves. The vulgar accustometh to call such the Angels of heaven: for they see how they take nothing at heart; neither find fault with any thing ill done, but let all pass: but if they considered the wisdom and condition of the Angels, they should see it were a word that carried evil consonance, and a case for the inquisition house: for from the day when we receive the use of reason, until that of our death, they do nought else save reprove us for all our evil doings, and advise us to that which we ought to do. And if as they speak to us in their spiritual language, by moving our imagination, so they should deliver us their opinion inmaterial words, we would hold them importunate and unmannerly brought up. And he that believeth not this, let him mark that the Angel (of whom S Matthew maketh mention) 
S. John Baptist was an angel in his office.  seemed such a one to Herod, and to the wife of his brother Philp, seeing (because they would not hear his fault-findings) they fair and well chopped off his head. Better were it, that these men, who by the vulgar are fond termed Angels of heaven, were called Asses of the earth: for amongst brute beasts (saith Galen) there is none more blunt, or of less wit than the Ass: although in memory he out reach all the rest. He refuseth no burden, he goeth whither he is driven without any gainstriving, he winceth not, he biteth not, he is not fugitive, not jadish conditioned; if he be laboured with a cudgel, he setteth not by it, he is wholly made to the well-liking and service of him that is to use him: these self properties do those men partake, whom the vulgar term Angels of heaven; which sport-making, springeth in them, for that they are blockheads and void of imagination, and have their wrathful power very remiss, which tokeneth a great defect in a man, and argueth that he is ill compounded.  
There was never Angel nor man in the world, better conditioned than Christ our redeemer, and he entering one day into the temple, belaboured well-favouredly those whom he found there selling of merchandise: and this he did because the irascible is the chastise giver, and sword of reason, & the man who reproveth not things ill done, either showeth himself but a fool, or is deprived of the wrathful power. In sort, that it falls out a miracle to see a wise man of that gentleness or conditions, which are best liking to lewd men's fancies: wherethrough such as set down in writing the actions of julius Caesar, marveled to see how his soldiers could support a man so rough and severe, and this grew in him, because he lighted upon a wit requisite for the wars. The third property of those who are endowed with this difference of wits, to be reckless touching the attiring of their person, and in a manner all of them are slovinly, homely, with their hosen hanging about their heels, full of wrinkles, their cap sitting upon the one side, with some threadbare gaberdine on their back, & never long to change suits.  
This property, Lucius Florus recounteth, had that famous captain Viriatus, by nation a Portuguese, of whom (exaggerating his great humility) he saith and affirmeth, that he despised so much all ornament of his person, as there was no private soldier in his army, that went worse appareled than himself. And verily this was no virtue, neither did he the same artificially, but it is a natural effect of those, who are possessed with that difference of imagination after which we inquire.  
This recklessness in julius Caesar, greatly deceived Cicero: for being asked (after the battle) the cause which moved him to follow the party of Pompey; he answered (as Macrobius recounteth) His girding deceived me: as if he had said, It was my beholding of julius Caesar to be a man somewhat slovinly, and who never wore his girdle handsomely, whom his soldiers in scoff called, Loose-coat. But this should have moved and made him to know, that he was endowed with a wit requisite to the counsel of war Rightly did Silla hit the nail on the head, who (as Suetonius Tranquillus reporteth) seeing the recklessness of julius Caesar in his appareling himself when he was a boy, advertised the Romans, saying; take heed of this ill girded young fellow. The Historians busy themselves much, in recounting how carelessly Hannibal bore him touching his apparel, and how little he reaked to go neat and handsome. To grow in great dislike at motes on the cape, to take much care that his stockings sit clean, and his cloak handsome, without plaits, appertaineth to a difference of the imagination of very base alloy, and gainsaith the understanding, and that imagination which the war requireth. The fourth sign is to have a bald head, and the reason hereof may soon be learned: for this difference of imagination, resideth in the forepart of the head, as do all the rest, and excessive heat burneth the skin of the head, and closeth the pores, through which the hair is to pass. Besides that the matter whereof the hair is engendered (as the physicians avouch) are those excrements which the brain expelleth in time of his nourishing, and by the great fire that there is, they are consumed and burned up, and so the matter faileth whereof they may breed. And if julius Caesar had been seen in this point of philosophy, he would not so much have shamed at his baldhead, as that to cover the same, he caused the hinder part of his hair which should hang down on his neck to be featly turned towards his forehead. And Suetonius maketh mention, that nothing so much contented him, as when the Senate enacted that he might wear a laurel garland on his head, and that on none other ground than because thereby he might cover his baldness. Another sort of baldness groweth from having the hair hard & earthly, and of a gross composition, but that betokeneth a man void of understanding, imagination and memory. The fifth sign, whereby those are known who have this difference of imagination is, that such are spare in words and full of sentences, and the reason importeth because the brain being hard, it followeth of necessity, that they suffer a defect in memory, to which copy of words appertaineth. To find much what to say, springeth from a conjunction, which the memory maketh with the imagination, in his first degree of heat. Such as have this conjoining of both powers, are ordinarily great liars, and never want words and tales, though you stand hearkening unto them a whole day together.  
The sixth property of those who have this difference of imagination is, to be honest, and to take great dislike at filthy and bawdy talk: and therefore Cicero saith, that men very reasonable, do imitate the honesty of nature, who hath hidden the unseemly and shameful parts, which she made to provide for the necessity of mankind and not to adorn it, and she consenteth not to fasten the eyes on these, nor that the ears should once hear them named. This we might well attribute to the imagination, and say that the same resteth offended at the evil representation of these parts, but in the last chapter we rendered a reason of this effect, and reduced the same to the understanding, and we adjudged him defective in this power, who took not offence at such dishonesty. And because to the difference of imagination appurtenant to the art military, there is joined this discourse, therefore are good captains very honest. wherethrough, in the history of julius Caesar, we find an action of the greatest honesty that might be, and that is, whilst they murdered him with daggers in the Senate-house, he (perceiving it was impossible to escape death) gave himself to fall to the ground, and so fitted his imperial rob about him, that after his death they found him couched with great honesty, with his legs and other parts covered, that might any way offend the sight.  
The seventh property, and of greatest importance, is that the General have good fortune and be lucky, by which sign we shall perfectly find, that he is seized of the wit and ability behoveful for the art martial, for in substance and truth, there is nothing which ordinarily maketh men unfortunate, and that their enterprises do not always take success after their desire, save that they are deprived of wisdom, and lay not hold on the convenient means for achieving their exploits. For that julius Caesar showed such wisdom in the affairs which he managed, he bore away the bell (in respect of fortunateness) from all other captains of the world, so as in perils of importance, he encouraged his soldiers, saying; Fear not, for you have Caesar's good fortune to fight on your party.  
The Stoics held opinion, that as there was a first cause, everlasting, almighty, and of infinite wisdom, known by the order and concert of his marvelous works; so also there was another unwise and unconcerted, whose works proved without order, without reason, and void of discretion: for with an affection no way reasonable, it giveth and reaveth from men riches, dignity, and honour. This they termed Fortune, seeing her a friend to men who perform their business by hap hazard, without forecasting, without wisdom, and without submitting themselves to the government of reason. They portrayed her (the better to make her manners and malice known) in form of a woman, a royal sceptre in her hand, her eyes veiled, her feet upon a round ball, accompanied with persons sottish and void of all trade of living. By painting her like a woman, they noted her great lightness and little discretion; by her royal sceptre, they acknowledged her sovereignty over riches and honour; her veiled eyes, gave to understand the ill fashion which she held in distributing her gifts; her feet standing on the round ball, betokened the small firmness in the favours which she imparted, for she snatcheth them away with the like facility that she reacheth them forth, without keeping steadfastness in aught whatsoever: but the worst part they found in her, was that she favoureth the wicked, and persecuteth the virtuous; loveth the foolish, and abhorreth the wise; abaseth the noble, & advanceth the base: what is foul pleaseth her, and what is fair worketh her annoyance. Many men, placing confidence in these properties, because they know their own good fortune, take hardiness to undertake fond and headlong enterprises, which yet prosper with them very luckily, and yet other men, very wise and advised, dare not adventure to execute those enterprises, which they have begun with great discretion, finding by experience that such find worst success. How great a friend Fortune showeth herself to bad people, Aristotle maketh known by this problem, Whence groweth it, that riches (for the most part) are possessed rather by the wicked than by men of worth? Whereto he shapeth answer, Perhaps because Fortune being blind cannot know nor make choice of what is best. But this is an answer unworthy of so great a philosopher: for it is not Fortune that bestoweth wealth on men, and though it were, yet he yieldeth no reason, why she always cherisheth the bad, and abandoneth the good. The true solution of this demand is, that the lewd sort are very witty, and have a gallant imagination, to beguile in buying and selling, and can profit in bargaining, and employing their stock where occasion of gain is offered. But honest men want this imagination: many of whom have endeavoured to imitate these bad fellows, and by trafficking & trucking, within few days have lost their principal.  
This, Christ our redeemer pointed at, considering the sufficiency of that steward, whom his master called to account, who reserving a good portion of the goods to his own behoof, salved up all his reckonings, and got his quietus est. Which wisdom (though it were faulty) yet God commended saying; The children of this world are more wise in their kind, than the children of light: for these ordinarily enjoy a good understanding, with which power they place their affection on their law, and have want of imagination, whereto the knowledge how to live in this world appertaineth; wherethrough many are morally good, because they lack the wit how to be nought. This manner of answering is more easy and apparent. The natural philosophers, because they could not reach so far, devised so fond and ill jointed a cause, as lady Fortune, to whose power they might impute good and bad successes, & not to the unskilfulness and little knowledge of men.  
Four sorts of people there are in every commonwealth, if a man list to mark them. For some men are wise, and seem not so; others seem so, and are not; others, neither are, nor seem; and some both are, and seem so. Some men there are silent, slow in speech, stayed in answering, not curious nor copious of words: yet they retain hidden within them, a natural power appertaining to the imagination, whereby they know the fit time and occasion to bring their purpose to pass, and how they are therein to demean themselves without communicating or imparting their mind to any other. These by the vulgar are called happy and lucky, them seeming that with little knowledge, and less wit, every thing falleth into their lap.  
Others, contrariwise are of much eloquence in words and discourse, great conversers, men that take upon them to govern the whole world, who go about hunting how with small expense they may reap great gains, and therein (after the vulgars' conceit) no man in judgement can step an acc beyond them, and yet, coming to the effect, all falleth to the ground between their hands. These cry out upon fortune, and call her blind buzzard, and jade, for the matters which they design & work with much wisdom, she suffereth not to take good effect: but if there were a Fortune who might plead her own defence, she would tell them, Yourselves are the buzzards, the sots, and the doo-noughts, whom you speak of, that being unskilful, hold yourselves wise, and using unfit means, would yet reap good successes. This sort of people have a kind of imagination which decketh up and setteth forth their words and reasons, and maketh them seem to be what in deed they are not. Whereon I conclude, that the General who is endowed with a wit requisite for the art military, and doth duly forecast what he is to exploit, shall be fortunate and happy, otherwise it is lost labour to look that he ever prevail to victory, unless God do fight for him, as he did for the armies of Israel, and yet withal, they chose the wisest and skilfullest amongst them to be commanders, for we must not leave all upon God's hands, neither yet may a man wholly affy on his own wit and sufficiency, but it will do best to join both together; for there is no other Fortune, save God and a man's own good endeavour.  
He who first devised Chess-play, made a model of the art military, representing therein all the occurrents and contemplations of war, without leaving any one behind: and as in this game Fortune beareth no stroke, neither can the player who beateth the adverse party be termed fortunate, nor he who is beaten unfortunate. So the captain that overcometh aught to be called wise, and the vanquished, ignorant; and not the one happy, or the other unhappy. The first thing which he ordained in this play was, that when the king is mated, the contrary party is vanquisher, thereby to let us understand, that the chief force of an army, consisteth in a good commander to govern and direct the same: and for proof hereof, he lotted as many chief men to the one side as to the other, to the end that whosoever lost, might be ascertained, it so fell out through default of his own knowledge, and not of fortune. And this is more apparently seen, if we consider, that a skilful player will spare half his men to the other party, and yet for all that get the game. And this was it which Vegetius noted, that often few soldiers and weak, vanquish many & valiant, if they be governed by a general who can skill in ambushes and stratagems. He ordained also that the pawns might not turn back, thereby to advise the commander that he duly forecast all chances, ere he send forth his soldiers to the service, because if any mischance alight, it behooves rather that they be cut in pieces where they were placed, than to turn their backs, for the soldier is not to know, when time serveth to fly or to fight save by direction of his captain, and therefore so long as his life lasteth, he is to keep his place, under pain of becoming infamous. Hereunto he adjoined another law, that the pawn which had made seven draughts without being taken, should be made a queen, & might make any draft at pleasure, and be placed next the king, as one set at liberty; and endowed with nobility; whereby he gave us to understand, how in the war it importeth greatly for making the soldier valiant, to proclaim advantages, free camps, and preferments, for such as shall have done any special piece of service. And principally, that the honour and profit pass to their posterity: for than they will exploir with greater courage, and gallantness. For which cause Aristotle affirmeth that a man maketh more reak to be chief of his lineage, than of his own proper life. This Saul well perceived when he caused to be proclaimed in the army, Whosoever shall strike that man (meaning kill the Giant Goliath) shall be made rich by the king, and shall have his daughter to wife, and his house shallbe enfranchised in Israel from all manner tribute. Conformable unto this proclamation, there was a court in Spain, which ordained, that whatsoever soldier, by his good usage, deserved to receive for his pay 500 Soldi (this was the greatest stipend allowed in the wars) should himself and his posterity, be discharged for ever from all taxes and services. The moors (as they are great players at chess) have in their plays set seven degrees in imitation of the 7 draughts, which the pawn must make to be a queen, and so they enlarge the play from one to the second, and from the second to the third, until they arrive to seven, answerable to the proof that the soldier shall give of himself: & if she be so gallant as to enlarge his pay to the seventh, they yield him the same: and for this cause they are termed Septerniers, or Sevenstears. These have large liberties and exemptions, as in Spain those gentlemen who are called Hidalgos. The reason hereof, in natural philosophy is very plain: for there is no faculty of all those that govern man, which will willingly work, unless there be some interest to move the same: which Aristotle proveth in the generative power, and the self reason swayeth in the residue. The object of the wrathful faculty (as we have above specified) is honour and advantage: and if this cease, straightways courage and stomach decay: by all this may be conceived the great signification which it carrieth to make that pawn a queen, who hath made seven draughts without taking: for whatsoever the greatest nobility in the world, that hath been or shallbe, hath sprung and shall spring from pawns, and private men, who by the valour of their person have done such exploits, as they deserved for themselves and their posterity, the title of gentlemen, knights, noblemen, earls, marquesses, dukes and kings. True it is, that some are so ignorant and void of consideration as they will not grant, that their nobility had a beginning; but that the same is everlasting, and grown into their blood, not by the grace of some particular king, but by the supernatural and divine reason. To the bent of this purpose (though we shall thereby somewhat lengthen our matter) I cannot but recount a very witty discourse, which passed between our Lord the Prince Don Carlos, and the doctor Suares of Toledo, who was judge of the Court in Alcala of Hevates. Prince: Doctor what think you of this people? Doctor. Very well (my Lord) for here is the best air, and the best soil of any place in Spain. P. For such the physicians made choice of to recover my health: have you seen the University? D. No my L. P. See it then: for it is very special; and where they tell me the Sciences are very learnedly red. D. Verily, for a college and particular study, it carrieth great fame, and should be such in effect, as your highness speaketh of. P. Where did you study? D. In Salamanca, my lord. P. And did you proceed doctor in Salamanca? D. My lord, no. P. That me seemeth was evil done to study in one University, and take degree in another. D. May it please your highness, that the charges of taking degrees in Salamanca, are excessive; and therefore we poor men fly the same, and get us to some other University, knowing that we receive our sufficiency and learning, not from the degree, but from our study and pains, albeit my parents were not so poor, but if them listed might have borne the charge of my proceeding in Salamanca: but your highness well knoweth, that the doctors of this University have the like franchises, as the gentlemen of Spain, and to us who are such by nature, this exemption doth harm, at least to our posterity. P. Which of the kings mine ancestors gave this nobility to your lineage? D. None. And to this end your highness must understand, there are two sorts of gentlemen in Spain; some of blood, & some by privilege. Those in blood (as myself) have not received their nobility at the king's hand, but those by privilege have. P. This matter is very hard for me to conceive, and I would gladly that you expressed it in plainer terms: for if my blood royal, reckoning from myself to my father; and from him to my grandfather; and so by order from each to other cometh to finish in Pelagius: to whom by the death of the king Don Roderick, the kingdom was given, before which time he was not king, if we reckon up after this sort your pedigree, shall we not come at last to end in one who was no gentleman? D. This discourse cannot be denied, for all things have had a beginning. P. I ask you then, from whence that first man had his nobility, who gave beginning to your nobility? he could not enfranchise himself, nor pluck out his own neck from the yoke of tributes and services, which before time he paid to the kings my predecessors: for this were a kind of theft, and a preferring himself by force with the king's patrimony, and it soundeth not with reason, that gentlemen of blood should have so bad an original as this: therefore it falleth out plain, that the king gave him freedom, and yielded him the grace of that nobility. Now tell me from whom he had it. D. Your highness concludeth very well, and it is true, that there is no true nobility save of the kings grant: but we term those noble of blood, of whose original there is no memory, neither is it specified by writing, when the same began, nor what king yielded them this favour. And this obscureness is received in the commonwealth, for more honourable than distinctly to know the contrary. The commonwealth also maketh gentlemen: for when a man groweth valorous, of great virtue, and rich: it dareth not to challenge such a one, as seeming thereby to do him wrong, and that it is fit a man of that worth do live in all franchise. This reputation passing to the children, & to the nephews, groweth to nobility, & so they get a pretence against the king. These are not therefore gentlemen, because they receive 500 Soldi of pay; but when the contrary cannot be proved, they pass for such. That Spaniard, who devised this name of a gentleman, Hisiodalgos, gave very well to understand this doctrine which we have set down: for by his opinion, men have two kinds of birth: the one natural, in which all are equal, the other spiritual. When a man performeth any heroical enterprise, or any virtue or extraordinary work, then is he new borne, and procureth for himself other new parents, and loseth that being which he had tofore. Yesterday he was called the son of Peter, and nephew of Sanchius, and now he is named the son of his own actions. Hence had that Castilian proverb his original which saith, Every man is the son of his own works. And because the good and virtuous works, are in the holy scripture termed somewhat, & in the Spanish tongue it signifieth algo, and vices & sins nothing, which in the Spanish is termed nada. This Spaniard compounded this word hijo dalgo thereof, which importeth nought else, but that such a one is descended of him, who performed some notorious and virtuous action: for which he deserved to be rewarded by the king or commonwealth, together with all his posterity for ever. The law of the Partita saith, that hiio dalgo, signifieth the son of goods: But if we understand the same of temporal goods, the reason was not good; for there are infinite gentlemen poor, and infinite rich men, who are no gentlemen: but if he mean the son of goods; that is to say of good qualities, it carrieth the same sense which we before expressed.  
Of the second birth which men ought to have beside their natural, there is afforded us a natural example in the scripture, where Christ our redeemer reprehendeth Nichodemus, because he (being a doctor of the law) witted not yet, it was necessary that a man should be borne of new, thereby to obtain a better being, and more honourable parents than his natural: for which cause, all the time that a man performeth no heroical enterprise, in this sense he is called hiio de nada, to weet the son of nothing; although by his ancestors he bear the name of hiio dalgo, that is the son of somewhat; or a gentleman. To the purpose of this doctrine, I will recite unto you a discourse which passed between a very honourable Captain, and a Cavaliero, who stood much on the pantofles of his gentility. Whereby shall be discovered in what the honour of this second birth consisteth. This captain then falling in company with a knot of Cavalieroes, and discoursing of the largesse & liberty, which soldiers enjoy in Italy, in a certain demand, which one of them made him, he gave him the you, because he was native of that place, and the son of mean parents, born in a village of some few houses: but the captain (aggrieved thereat) answered saying; Signore your signory shall understand, that soldiers who have enjoyed the liberty of Italy, cannot content themselves to make abode in Spain, because of the many laws which are here enacted against such as set hand to their sword.  
The other Cavalieroes, hearing him use the term of Signoria, could not forbear laughter. The Cavaliero blushing hereat, used these words, Your Mercedi may weet, that in Italy, to say Signoria, importeth so much as in Spain to say mercede, and this Signior Capitano, being accustomed to the use and manner of that country, giveth the term of Signoria, where he should do that of mercede. Hereto the captain answered, saying; let not your Signory hold me to be a man so simple, but that I know when I am in Italy, to apply myself to the language of Italy, and in Spain, to that of Spain: but he that in Spain talking with me, may give me the you, it behoveth at least that he have a Signory in Spain; & yet so I can scarce take it well, the Cavaliero somewhat affronted made reply, saying; why Signior Capitano are you not native in such a place, and son to such a man? And know you not again who I am, and what mine ancestors have been? Signore (answered the captain) I know rightwell, that your Signory is a good Cavaliero, and such have been your elders: but I and my right arm (which now I acknowledge for my father) are better than you & all your lineage. This captain meant to allude to the second birth, when he said I and my right arm, which now I acknowledge to be my father; and that not unduly: for with his right arm, and with his sword he had performed such actions, as the valour of his person was equal to the nobility of that Cavaliero. For the most part, the laws and nature (saith Plato) are contrary: for a man sometimes issueth out of nature's hands, with a mind very wise, excellent, noble, frank, and with a wit apt to command a whole world: yet because his hap was to be borne in the house of Amiclas, a base peasant; by the laws he remaineth deprived of that honour and liberty, wherein nature placed him. And contrariwise we see others, whose wit & fashions were ordained to be slaves; and yet for that they were borne in noble houses, they come by force of the laws to be great Lords. But one thing hath been noted many ages ago, which is worthy of consideration, that those who are born in villages and thatched houses, prove more sufficient men, and of greater towardness for the Sciences & arms, than such as have great Cities for their birthplace. Yet is the vulgar so subject to ignorance, as they gather a consequence to the contrary, from birth in mean places: hereof the sacred scripture affordeth as an example, where it is read, that the people of Israel much wondering at the great works of our saviour Christ, said; is it possible, that out of Nazareth can come aught that is good? But to return to the wit of this captain, of whom we have discoursed; he ought to be endowed with much understanding, and with the difference of imagination, which is requisite for the art of war. Where through, in this treatise we deliver much doctrine, whence we may gather wherein the valour of men consisteth, that they may reap estimation in the commonwealth.  
Six things (me seemeth) a man ought to have, to the end he may be termed honourable, and which of them soever want, his being is thereby impaired: but yet all of them are not placed in one self degree, nor partake a like value, or the self qualities.  
The first and principal, is the valour of a man's own person, as touching his wisdom, justice, mind, and courage. This maketh riches and birthright, from hence grow honourable titles; from this beginning all the nobility in the world fetcheth his original. And if any be settled in a contrary opinion, let him go to the great houses in Spain, and he shall find that they all derive their original from particular men, who by the valour of their persons, attained to that, which now by their successions is possessed.  
The second thing which honoureth a man, next to the valour of his person is substance, without which we find not, that any man carrieth estimation in the commonwealth.  
The third is, the nobility and antiquity of his ancestors, to be well born, and of honourable blood, is a thing very precious: but yet retaineth in itself a great defect: for by itself alone, it yieldeth a slender avail, aswell in regard of the gentleman himself, as of others who stand in need thereof: for a man can neither eat nor drink the same, nor apparel himself therewithal, nor give nor bestow the same: but it maketh a man to live as dying, by depriving him of the remedies, which he might otherwise procure to supply his necessities; but let him unite the same with riches, and by no degree of honour it can be countervailed. Some are wont to resemble nobility, to a cipher in numbering, which of it self beareth no value, but united with another number, multiplieth the same.  
The fourth point which maketh a man to be of account, is to have some dignity or honourable office; and contrariwise nothing so much abaseth a man, as to get his living by some handicraft.  
The fifth thing which honoureth a man, is to be called by a good surname, and a gracious christian name, which may deliver a pleasing consonance to the ear, & not to be termed pasty, or pestle, as some that I know. We read in the general history of Spain, that there came two Ambassadors out of France, unto king Alfonse the ninth, to demand one of his daughters in marriage for their sovereign king Philip: one of which ladies was very fair, and named Vrraca, the other nothing so gracious, and called Blanch. They both coming in presence of the Ambassadors, all men held it as a matter resolved, that the choice would light upon Vrraca, as the elder, and fairer, and better adorned: but the Ambassadors, inquiring each of their names, took offence at the name of Vrraca, and made choice of the lady Blanch: saying, that her name would be better received in France than the other.  
The sixth thing which honoureth a man, is the seemly ornament of his person, & his going well appareled, and attended with many waiters. The good descent of the Spanish nobility, is of such as through the valour of their person, and through their honourable enterprises achieved, grew in the wars to the pay of 500 Soldi. The original whereof our late writers cannot verify: for if they find not their matter laid down in writing, and expressed to their hands by others, they are unable to supply the same, with any invention of their own. The difference which Aristotle placeth betwixt memory and remembrance is, that if the memory have lost any of those things which at first it knew, it cannot call the same to mind, without new learning thereof: but remembrance enjoyeth this special grace, that if it forget aught, by stopping a while to discourse thereupon, it turneth to find out that which was before lost. Which may be the Court that speaketh in favour of good soldiers, we find at this day recorded neither in books, nor in the memory of men, but there are left as relics these words, hijo dalgo, in those that receive 500 Soldi of pay, after the Court of Spain, and their known wages. By making discourse, and arguing whereon, it will fall out an easy matter to find out their associates. Antony of Lebrissa giving the signification of this verb, vendico, cas: saith the same signifieth, to draw unto it that which is due for pay, or by reason, as we say now a days by a new phrase of speech, to take pay from the king. And it is a thing so used in Castilia the old, to say such a one hath well impaied his travail, when he is well paid, that amongst the civiller sort, there is no manner of speech more ordinary.  
From this signification, the word vindicare fetched his original, namely, when any one would stir at the wrong offered him by another: for injury metaphorically is termed debt. After this sort when we now say, such a one is hiio dalgo, de vengar quincentoes sueldoes, that is, a gentleman of the pay of 500 Soldi, we mean that he is descended from a soldier so valiant, as for his prowess he deserved to receive so large a pay, as is that of 500 Soldi. Who by the court of Spain was (with all his posterity) enfranchised from paying any tallages or services to the king. This known pay, is nought else save the entrance which such a soldier made into the number of those, whose stipend was 500 Soldi: for than were registered in the king's book, the name of the soldier, the country where he was born, and who were his parents, and progenitors: for the more certainty to him who received this benefit and stipend. Even as at this day we read in the book of Bezerro, which is kept at Salamanca, where are found written, the beginning of well-near all the Spanish nobility. The semblable diligence used Saul, when David slew Goliath: for forthwith he sent Abner his captain, to take information of what stock the young man was descended. Anciently they termed Solaro, the house of the villain, aswell as of the gentleman.  
But sithence we have stepped aside into this digression, it behoveth to make return to our purpose from whence we parted, and to know whence it groweth, that in play at chess, which we termed a counterfeit of war, a man shameth more to lose, than at any other game, albeit the same turn him to no damage, neither is the play for money: and whence it may spring that the lookers on see more draughts than the players themselves, though they are less seen in the play? and that which most importeth is, that some gamesters play best fasting, and some better after meat. The first doubt holdeth like difficulty, for we have avouched, that in war and in chess play fortune hath nought to do, neither may we be allowed to say, Who would ever have thought this? but all is ignorance and carelessness in him that loseth, and wisdom and cunning in him that getteth. And when a man is over come in matters of wit & sufficiency, and is cut off from all allegations of excuse or pretence, other than his own ignorance, it followeth a matter of necessity that he wax ashamed: for man is reasonable, and a friend to his reputation, and cannot brook that in the works of this power, any other should step a foot before him. For which cause Aristotle demandeth what the reason may be, why the ancients consented not that special rewards should be assigned to those, who surpassed the rest in the Sciences, & yet ordained some for the best leper, runner, thrower of the bar, and wrestler? To which he frameth answer, That in wrestling and bodily contentions, it is tolerated that there be judges assigned, who shall censure how far one man exceedeth another, to the end they may justly yield prize to the vanquisher, it falling out a matter of no difficulty for the eye to discern who leapeth most ground, or runneth with greatest swiftness: but in matters of science it proveth very hard to try by the understanding, which exceedeth other, for that it is a thing appertaining to the spirit, and of much quaintness; and if the judge list to give the prize maliciously, all men cannot look thereunto, for it is a judgement much estranged from the sense of the beholders. Besides this answer, Aristotle giveth another which is better, saying, That men make no great reck to be overcome in throwing, wrestling, running, and leaping, for that they are graces wherein the very brute beasts outpass us. But that which we cannot endure with patience, is, to have another adjudged more wise and advised than ourselves, wherethrough they grow in hatred with the judges, and seek to be revenged of them, thinking that of malice they went about to shame them. Therefore to shun these inconveniences, they would not yield consent, that in works appertaining to the reasonable part, men should be allowed either judges or rewards. Whence is gathered, that the Universities do ill who assign judges and rewards of the first, second, and third degree, in licensing those that prove best at the examinations.  
For besides that the inconveniences alleged by Aristotle do betide, it is repugnant to the doctrine of the gospel, that men grow into contention who should be chief. And that this is true, we see manifestly, for that the disciples of our saviour Christ, coming one day from a certain voyage, treated amongst themselves, who should be the greatest, and being now arrived at their lodging, their master asked them whereof they had reasoned upon the way? but they (though somewhat blunt) well understood how this question was not allowable, wherethrough the text saith, that they durst not tell him, but because from God nothing can be concealed, he spoke unto them in this manner, If any will be chief amongst you, he shallbe the last of all, and servant to the rest. The pharisees were abhorred by Christ our redeemer, because they loved the highest seats at feasts, and the principal chairs in the Synagogues. The chief reason whereon they rely, who bestow degrees after this manner, is, that when scholars know each of them shallbe rewarded according to the trial which they shall give of themselves, they will scantly afford themselves time from their study, to sleep or eat. Which would cease, were there not a reward for him that taketh pains, or chastisement for him that addicteth himself to looseness and loitering. But this is a slender reason, and so only in appearance, and presupposeth a great falsehood, which is, that knowledge may be gotten by continual plodding at the book, and by hearing of good masters, and never losing a lesson. And they mark not, that if a scholar want the wit and ability requisite for the learning which he apply, it falleth out a lost labour, to beat his head day and night at his books. And the error is such, that if differences of wits, so far distant as these, do enter into competency, the one through his quick capacity, without studying or poring in books, getteth learning in a trice, and the other, for that he is blockheaded and dull, after he hath toiled all his life long, can small skill in the matter.  
Now the judges come, as men to give the first price to him, who was enabled by nature, and took no travel, and the last to him who was born void of capacity, yet never gave over studying; as if the one had gotten learning by turning over his books, and the other lost the same through his own sluggishness. And it fareth as if they ordained prices for two horses, of which the one had his legs sound and nimble, and the other halted down right. If the Universities did admit to the study of the Sciences, none but such as had a wit capable thereof, and were all equal, it should seem a thing well done to ordain reward and punishment: for whosoever knew most, it would thereby appear that he pained himself most, and who knew least, had given himself more to his ease.  
To the second doubt we answer, that as the eyes stand in need of light, and clearness, to see figures and colours, so the imagination hath need of light in the brain, to see the fantasies which are in the memory. This clearness, the sun giveth not, nor any lamp or candle, but the vitalspirits which are bred in the heart, and dispersed throughout the body. Herewithal it is requisite to know that fear gathereth all the vitallspirits to the heart, and leaveth the brain dark, and all the other parts of the body cold. Whereupon Aristotle maketh this demand, Whence cometh it, that who so feareth, his voice, his hands, and his neither lip do tremble? whereto he answereth, that through this fear, the natural heat hieth to the heart, and leaveth all the residue of the body acold, and the cold (as is before touched) by Galens' mind, hindereth all the powers and faculties of the soul, and suffereth not them to work.  
Hence beginneth the answer of this second doubt, and it is, that those who play at Chess, conceive fear to lose, because the game standeth upon terms of reputation and disgrace, and for that Fortune hath no stroke therein, so the vital spirits assembling to the heart, the imagination is foreslowed by the cold, and the phantasms in the dark, for which two reasons, he who playeth cannot bring his purpose to effect. But the lookers on, in as much as this no way importeth them, neither stand in fear of losing through want of skill, do behold more draughts, for that their imagination retaineth his heat, and his figures are enlightened by the light of the vital spirits. True it is, that much light reaveth also the light of the imagination, and it befalleth what time the player waxeth ashamed and out of countenance to see his adversary beat him; then through this aggreevednes, the natural heat increaseth, and enlighteneth more than is requisite, of all which he that standeth by is devoid. From hence issueth an effect very usual in the world, that what time a man endeavoureth to make the best muster of himself, and his learning and sufficiency most known, it proveth worst with him: with others again the contrary betideth, who being brought to their trial, make a great show, and passed out of the lists, appear of little worth, and of all this, the reason is very manifest, for he whose head is filled with much natural heat, if you appoint him to do an exercise of learning or disputation, within four and twenty hours after, a part of that excessive heat which he hath, flieth to the heart, and so the brain remaineth temperate, and in this disposition (as we will prove in the chapter ensuing) many points worth the utterance, present themselves to a man's remembrance. But he who is very wise and endowed with a great understanding, being brought to trial, by means of fear, cannot retain the natural heat in his head, whereon through default of light, he findeth not in his memory what to deliver.  
If this fell into their consideration, who take upon them to control the Generals of armies, blaming their actions, and the order which they set down in the field, they should discern how great a difference resteth between the giving a looking on the fight out at a window, or the breaking of a lance therein, and the fear to lose an army whose charge their sovereign hath committed to their hands.  
No less damage doth fear procure the Physician in curing, for his practice (as we have proved heretofore) appertaineth to the imagination, which resteth more annoyed by cold than any other power, for that his operation consisteth in heat. Whence we see by experience, that Physicians can sooner cure the vulgar sort, than Princes and great personages. A counsellor at law one day asked me (knowing that I handled this matter) what the cause might be, that in the affairs where he was well paid, many cases and points of learning came to his memory, but with such as yielded not to his travel what was due, it seemed that all his knowledge was shrunk out of his brain: whom I answered, that matters of interest appertained to the wrathful faculty which maketh his residence in the heart, and if the same receive not contentment, it doth not willingly send forth the vital spirits, by whose light, the figures which rest in the memory may be discerned. But when that findeth satisfaction, it cheerfully affordeth natural heat. Wherethrough the reasonable soul obtaineth sufficient clearness to see whatsoever is written in the head. This defect do men of great understanding partake, who are pinching, and rely much on their interest and in such is the property of that counsellor best discerned. But who so falleth into due consideration hereof, shall observe it to be an action of justice, that he who laboureth in another man's vineyard be well paid his wages.  
The like reason is currant for the physicians, to whom (when they are well hired) many remedies present themselves: otherwise, the art (aswell in them as the lawyer) slippeth out of their fingers. But here a matter very important is to be noted, namely; that the good imagination of the physician, discovereth on a sudden what is necessary to be done. And if he take leisure and farther consideration, a thousand inconveniences come into his fancy, which hold him in suspense, and this-while the occasion of the remedy passeth away. Therefore it is never good, to advise the physician to consider well what he hath in hand, but that he forthwith execute what first he purposed. For we have proved heretofore, that much speculation maketh the natural heat to avoid out of the head, and again the same may increase so far forth, as to turmoil the imagination. But the physician in whom it is slack, shall not do amiss to use long contemplation: for the heat advancing itself up to the brain, shall come to attain that point, which to this power is behoveful.  
The third doubt in the matters already rehearsed, hath his answer very manifest: for the difference of the imagination, with which we play at chess, requireth a certain point of heat, to see the draughts, and he that playeth well fasting, hath then the degree of heat requisite thereunto. But through the heat of the meat, the same exceedeth that point which was necessary, and so he playeth worse. The contrary befalleth to such as play well after meals, for the heat rising up together with the meat and the wine, arriveth to the point, which wanted whiles he was fasting. It is therefore needful to amend a place in Plato, who saith, that nature hath with great wisdom disjoined the liver from the brain, to the end the meat with his vapours, should not trouble the contemplation of the reasonable soul. But here if he mean those operations which appertain to the understanding, he speaketh very well, but it can take no place in any of the differences of the imagination. Which is seen by experience in feasts and banquets: for when the guests are come to mid meal, they begin to tell pleasant tales, merriments, and similitudes; where at the beginning, none had a word to say; but at the end of the feast, their tongue faileth them, for the heat is passed beyond the bound, requisite for the imagination. Such as need to eat and drink a little, to the end the imagination may lift up itself, are melancholic by adustion: for such have their brain like hot lime, which taken up into yourhand, is cold and dry in feeling: but if you bathe the same in any liquor, you cannot endure the heat which groweth thereof.  
We must also correct that law of the carthaginians, which Plato allegeth, whereby they forbade their Captains to drink wine, when they went to their wars, and likewise their governors, during the year of their office. And albeit Plato held the same for a very just law, and never maketh an end of commending the same; yet it behoveth to make a distinction: we have alleged heretofore, that the work of judging appertaineth to discourse, and that this power abhorreth heat, and therefore receiveth much damage by wine: but to govern a commonwealth, (which is a distinct matter from taking into your hand a process, & giving sentence thereupon) belongeth to the imagination, and that requireth heat. And the governor not arriving to the point, which is requisite, may well drink a little wine, so to attain the same. The like may be said touching the general of an army, whose counsel partaketh also with the imagination. And if the natural heat be by any hot thing to be advanced, none performeth it so well as wine; but it is requisite, that the same be temperately taken, for there is no nourishment which so giveth and reaveth a man's wit, as this liquor. Wherhfore it behoveth the General, to know the manner of his imagination, whether the same be of those which need meat and drink to supply the heat that wanteth, or to abide fasting: for in this only, consisteth how to manage his affairs well or evil.   

CHAP. XIIII.  
How we may know to what difference of ability the office of a king appertaineth, and what signs he ought to have, who enjoyeth this manner of wit.  
WHen Solomon was chosen king and head of so great and numberfull a people, as that of Israel; the text saith, that for governing and ruling them, he craved wisdom from heaven, and nothing besides. Which demand so much pleased God, as in reward of having asked so well, he made him the wisest king of the world, and not so contented, he gave him great riches and glory, evermore holding his request in better price. Whence is manifestly gathered, that the greatest wisdom and knowledge which may possibly be in the world, is that foundation, upon which the office of a king relieth. Which conclusion is so certain and true, as it were but lost labour to spend time in the proof thereof. Only it behoveth to show to what difference of wit the art of being a king, and such a one as is requisite for the commonwealth, appertaineth: and to unfold the tokens, whereby the man may be known who is endowed with this wit and ability. Wherethrough it is certain, that as the office of a king exceedeth all the arts in the world; so the same requireth a perfection of wit in the largest measure that nature can devise. What the same is we have not as yet defined: for we have been occupied in distributing to the other arts, their differences & manners. But since we now have the same in handling, it must be understood that of nine temperatures, which are in mankind, one only (saith Galen) maketh a man so surpassing wise, as by nature he can be. Wherein the first qualities are in such weight and measure, that the heat exceedeth not the cold, nor the moist the dry; but are found in such equality and conformity, as if really they were not contraries, nor had any natural opposition. Whence resulteth an instrument so appliable to the operations of the reasonable, that man cometh to possess a perfect memory of things passed, and a great imagination to see what is to come, and a great understanding, to distinguish, infer, argue, judge, and make choice. The other differences of wit (by us recounted) have not any one amongst them of sound perfection: for if a man possess great understanding, he cannot (by means of much dryness) comprise the sciences which appertain to the imagination and the memory; and if he be of great imagination, by reason of much heat, he remaineth unsufficient for the sciences of the understanding and the memory, and if he enjoy a great memory, we have tofore expressed how unable those of much memory (through their excessive moisture) do prove for all the other sciences. Only this difference of wit, which we now are a searching is that, which answereth all the arts in proportion. How much damage the unableness of adjoining the rest, breedeth to any one knowledge, Plato noteth, saying; That the perfection of each in particular, dependeth on the notice and knowledge of them all in general.  
No sort of knowledge is found so distinctly and severed from another, but that the skill in the one much aideth to the others perfection. But how shall we do, if having sought for this difference of wit with great diligence in all Spain, I can find but one such? Whereby I 
(No doubt your own king.)  conceive, that Galen said very well, That out of Greece, nature not so much as in a dream, maketh any man temperate, or with a wit requisite for the sciences. And the same Galen allegeth the reason hereof, saying; That Greece is the most temperate region of the world. Where the heat of the air exceedeth not the cold, nor the moist the dry. Which temperature, maketh men very wise and able for all the Sciences, as appeareth, considering the great number of famous men, who thence have issued, as Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Hypocrates, Galen, Theophrastus, Demosthenes, Homer, Thales Milesius, Diogenes Cynicus, Solon, and infinite other wise men mentioned in histories, whose works we find replenished with all sciences. Not as the writers of other provinces, who if they treat of physic, or any other science, it proves a miracle, for them to allege any other sort of science in their aid or favour. All of them are beggarly and without furniture, as wanting a wit capable of all the arts. But which we may most marvel at in Greece is, that whereas the wit of women is found so repugnant unto learning (as hereafter we will prove) yet there have been so many she Greeks', so specially seen in the sciences, as they have grown into competency with the sufficientest men: as namely Leontia, a most wise woman, who wrote against Theophrastus, the greatest Philosopher of his time, reproving him for many errors in philosophy. But if we look into other Provinces of the world, hardly shall we find sprung up any one wit that was notable. Which groweth for that they inhabit places distempered, where men become brutish, slow of capacity, and ill conditioned.  
For this cause Aristotle moveth a doubt, saying; What meaneth it, that those who inhabit a country, either over cold, or over hot, are fierce and fell in countenance and conditions, To which problem he answereth very well, saying; that a good temperature, not only maketh a good grace in the body, but also aideth the wit and ability. And as the excesses of heat & cold do hinder nature, that she cannot shape a man in good figure; So (also for the like reason) the harmonle of the soul is turned topsy-turvy, and the wit proveth slow and dull.  
This the Greeks well witted, inasmuch as they termed all the nations of the world Barbarians, considering their slender sufficiency and little knowledge. Whence we see, that of so many that are borne and study out of Greece, if they be Philosophers, none of them arriveth to the perfection of Plato, and Aristotle: if Physicians, to Hypocrates and Galen: if orators, to Demostbenes: if Poets, to Homer: and so in the residue of the sciences parts, the Greeks have ever held the foremost rank beyond all contradiction. At least the problem of Aristotle is very well verified in the Greeks: for verily they are the men of most sufficiency and loftiest capacity in the world: were it not that they live in disgrace, oppressed by force of arms in bondage, and all hardly entreated, by the coming of the Turks, who banished all learning, and caused the University of Athens, to pass unto Paris in France, where at this day the same continueth. And (thus through want of manurance) so many gallant wits (as we have before reported) are utterly perished. In the other regions out of Greece, though schools and exercise of learning are planted, yet no man hath proved in them of any rare excellency.  
The Physician holdeth he hath waded very far, if with his wit he can attain to that which Hypocrates and Galen delivered, and the natural Philosopher reckoneth himself so full of knowledge, as he can be capable of no more, if he once grow to the understanding of Aristotle. But this notwithstanding, it goeth not for an universal rule, that all such as have Greece for their birthplace, must of force be temperate and wise, and all the residue distemperate and ignorant: for the same Galen recounteth of Anacharsis, who was born in Scythia, that he carried the reputation of a rare wit amongst the Grecians, though himself a Barbarian. A Philosopher, borne in Athens, falling in contention with him, said unto him; get thee hence thou Barbarian. Then Anacharsis answered, My country is to me a shame, and so art thou to thine: for Scythia, being a region so distemperate, and where so many ignorant persons live, myself am grown to knowledge, and thou being borne in Athens, a place of wit and wisdom, wert never other than an Ass. In sort, that we need not utterly despair in regard of the temperature: neither think it a case of impossibility, to meet herewithal out of Greece, and especially in Spain, a region not very distemperate: for as I have found one of these differences in Spain, so it may well be, that there are many others not yet come to knowledge, and which I have not been able to find out. It shall do well therefore, to entreat of the tokens, by which a temperate man may be discerned, to the end where such a one is, he may not be hidden.  
Many signs have the Physicians laid down to discover this difference of wit, but the most principal, and which afford best notice, are these following.  
The first (saith Galen) is to have his hair abourne, a colour between white and red; and that passing from age to age, they ever become more golden. And the reason is very clear: for the material cause whereof they hair consisteth, the Physicians say, is a gross vapour, which ariseth from the digestion, that the brain maketh at the time of his nourishment; and look what colour is of the member, such also is that of his excrements. If the brain in his composition partake much of phlegm, the hair in growth is white, if much choler, saffron coloured: but if these two humours rest equally mingled, the brain becometh temperate, hot, cold, moist, and dry; and the hair abourne, partaking both the extremes. True it is Hypocrates saith, that this colour in men, who live under the North, as are the English, Flemish, and Almains springeth, for that their whiteness is parched up with much cold, and not for the reason by us alleged. Wherefore in this token it behoveth to be well advised: otherwise we may soon slip into error.  
The second token which a man, who shallbe endowed with this difference of wit, must have, is, saith Galen, to be well shaped, of good countenance, of seemly grace, and cheerful: in sort, that the sight may take delight to behold him, as a figure of rare perfection. And the reason is very plain: for if nature have much force, and a seed well seasoned, she always formeth of things possible, the best and most perfect in his kind: but being purveyed of forces, mostly she placeth her study in fashioning the brain, for that amongst all other parts of the body, the same is the principal seat of the reasonable soul: whence we see many men to be great and foul, and yet of an excellent wit.  
The quantity of body, which a temperate man ought to have (saith Galen) is not resolutely determined by nature, for he may be long, short, and of mean stature, conformable to the quantity of the temperate seed, which it had when it was shaped. But as touching that which appertaineth to the wit in temperate persons, a mean stature is better than either a great or little. And if we must lean to either of the extremes, it is better to incline to the little than to the great: for the bones and superfluous flesh (as we have proved heretofore, by the opinion of Plato and Aristotle) bring great damage to the wit. Agreeable hereunto, the natural Philosophers are wont to demand, whence it proceedeth, that men of small stature, are ordinarily more wise, than those of long stature. And for proof hereof, they cite Homer, who saith that Ulysses was very wise, and little of body; and contrariwise Ajax very foolish, and in stature tall. To this question they make very simple answer, saying, that the reasonable soul gathered into a narrow room, hath thereby more force to work conformably to that old saw, Virtue is of more force united than dispersed: and contrariwise making abode in a body long and large, it wanteth sufficient virtue to move and animat the same. But this is not the reason thereof: for we should rather say, that long men have much moisture in their composition, which extendeth out their flesh, and ableth the same to that increase which the natural heat doth ever procure. The contrary betideth in little bodies: for through their much dryness, the flesh cannot take his course, nor the natural heat enlarge or stretch it out, and therefore they remain of short stature. And we have erst proved that amongst the first qualities, none bringeth so great damage to the operations of the reasonable soul, as much moisture, and that none so far quickeneth the understanding, as dryness.  
The third sign (saith Galen) by which a temperate man may be known, is, that he be virtuous and of good conditions: for if he be lewd and vicious, Plato affirmeth it groweth for that in man there is some distemperate quality, which urgeth him to offend: and if such a one will practise that which is agreeable to virtue, is behoveth, that first he renounce his own natural inclination. But whosoever is absolutely temperate, standeth not in need of any such diligence, for the inferior powers require nothing at his hands, that is contrary to reason. Therefore Galen saith, that to a man who is possessed of this temperature, we need prescribe no diet what he shall eat and drink: for he never exceedeth the quantity and measure which physic would assign him. And Galen contenteth not himself to term them most temperate: but moreover avoucheth, that it is not necessary to moderate their other passions of the soul: for his anger, his sadness, his pleasure, and his mirth, are always measured by reason. Whence it followeth, that they are evermore healthful and never diseased, and this is the fourth figure.  
But herein Galen swerveth from reason: for it is impossible to frame a man, that shallbe perfect in all his powers, as the body is temperate, and that his wrathful and concupiscential power, get not the sovereignty over reason, and incite him to sin. For it is not fitting to suffer any man (how temperate soever) to follow always his own natural inclination without gainsetting and correcting him by reason. This is easily understood, considering the temperature which the brain ought to have, to the end the same may be made a convenient instrument for the reasonable faculty: and that which the heart should hold, to the end the wrathful power may covet glory, empire, victory, and sovereignty over all: and that which the liver ought to have for digesting the meats, and that which ought to rest in the colds, to be able to preserve mankind, and to increase the same. Of the brain, we have said sundry times tofore, that it should retain moisture, for memory; dryness, for discourse; and heat, for the imagination. But for all this, his natural temperature is cold and moist; and by reason of the more or less of these two qualities, sometimes we term it hot, and sometimes cold; now moist, then dry: but the cold and moist grow to predominat. The liver, wherein the faculty of concupiscence resideth, hath for his natural temperature, heat and moisture to predominate; and from this it never altereth, so long as a man liveth. And if sometimes we say it is cold, it groweth, for that the same hath not all the degrees of heat requisite to his own operations. As touching the heart, which is the instrument of the wrathful faculty, Galen affirmeth it of his own nature to be so hot, as if (while a creature liveth) we put our finger into his hollowness, it will grow impossible to hold the same there one moment without burning. And albeit sometime we term it cold; yet we may not conceive, that the same doth predominate: for this is a case impossible, but that the same consisteth not in such degree of heat, as to his operations is behoveful.  
In the cod, where the other part of the concupiscible maketh abode: the like reason taketh place, for the predomination of his natural temperature, is hot and dry. And if sometimes we say, that a man's cod are cold, we must not absolutely so understand the same: neither to predomination: but that the degree of heat, requisite for the generative virtue is wanting. Hereon we plainly infer, that if a man be well compounded and instrumentalized, it behoveth of force, that he have excessive heat in his heart: for otherwise the wrathful faculty would grow very remiss; and if the liver be not exceeding hot, it cannot digest the meat, nor make blood for nourishment: and if the cod have not more heat than cold, a man will prove impotent, and without power of begetting. Wherefore these two members (being of such force as we have said) it followeth of necessity, that the brain take alteration through much heat, which is one of the qualities that most paineth reason; and which is worst, the will being free, inciteth and inclineth itself to condescend to the appetites of the lower portion.  
By this reckoning it appeareth, that nature cannot fashion such a man as may be perfect in all his powers, nor produce him inclined to virtue. How repugnant it is unto the nature of man, that he become inclined to virtue, is easily proved, considering the composition of the first man, which though the most perfect that ever mankind enjoyed saving that of Christ our redeemer, and shaped by the hands of so great an artificer: yet if God had not infused into him a supernatural quality, which might keep down his inferior part; it was impossible (abiding in the principles of his own nature) that he should not be inclined to evil. And that God made Adam of a perfect power to wrath and concupiscence, is well to be understood, in that he said and commanded him, Increase and multiply, and to replenish the earth. It is certain that he gave them an able power for procreation, & made them not of a cold complexion, inasmuch as he commanded him that he should people the earth with men; which work cannot be accomplished without abundance of heat. And no less heat did he bestow upon the faculty nutritive: with which he was to restore his consumed substance, and renew another in am thereof. Seeing that he said to the man and the woman, Behold, I have given you every herb, that bringeth forth seed upon the earth, & whatsoever trees have seed of their kind, to the end they may serve you for food: for if God had given them a stomach and liver, cold and of little heat, for certain they could not have digested their meat, nor preserve themselves 900 years alive in the world. He fortified also the heart, and gave the same a wrathful faculty, which might yield him apt to be a king and lord, and to command the whole world, and said unto them, Do you subdue the earth, and command over the fishes of the sea, and the fowls of the air, and all the beasts that move on the face of the earth. But if he had not given them much heat, they had not partaken so much vivacity, nor authority of sovereignty, of commandment, of glory, of majesty, and of honour.  
How much it endamageth a prince, to have his wrathful power remiss, cannot sufficiently be expressed: for through this only cause it befalleth, that he is not feared nor obeyed, nor reverenced by his subjects. After having fortified the wrathful and concupiscible powers, giving unto the forementioned members so much heat, he passed to the faculty reasonable, and shaped for the same a brain cold and moist, in such degree, and of a substance so delicate, that the soul might with the same discourse, and philosophize, and use his infused knowledge. For we have already avouched, and heretofore proved, that God to bestow a supernatural knowledge upon men, First ordereth their wit, and maketh them capable, by way of the natural dispositions delivered by his hand, that they may receive the same: for which cause, the text of the holy scripture affirmeth, that he gave them a heart to conceive, and replenished them with the discipline of understanding. The wrathful and concupiscential powers, being then so mighty through great heat, and the reasonable so weak and remiss to resist, God made provision of a supernatural quality, and this is termed by the Divines Original justice, by which they come to repress the brunts of the inferior portion, and the part reasonable remaineth superior, and inclined to virtue. But when our first parents offended, they lost this quality, and the irascible and concupiscible remained in their nature, and superior to reason, in respect of the strength of the three members that we spoke of, and man rested ready even from his youth, unto evil.  
Adam was created in the age of youth, which (after the Physicians) is the most temperate of all the residue, and from that age forth, he was inclined to evilness, saving that little time, whilst he preserved himself in grace by original justice. From this doctrine we gather in good natural Philosophy, that if a man be to perform any action of virtue to the gainsaying of the flesh, it is impossible that he can put the same in execution, without outward aid of grace; for the qualities with which the inferior power worketh, are of greater efficacy. I said, with gainsaying of the flesh, because there are many virtues in man, which grow for that he hath his powers of wrath and concupiscence feeble, as chastity in a cold person, but this is rather an impotency of operation, than a virtue: for which cause, had not the catholic church taught us, that without the special aid of God, we could not have overcome our own nature, Philosophy natural would so have learned us, namely, that grace comforteth our wil That than which Galen would have said, was, that a temperate man exceedeth in virtue all others who want this good temperature, for the same is less provoked by the inferior part.  
The fifth property which those of this temperature possess, is to be very long lived, for they are strong to resist the causes and occasions which engender diseases; and this was that which the royal prophet David meant, The days of our age in themselves are seventy years, but if in the potentates there be eighty or more, it is their pain and sorrow: as if he should say, The number of years which men ordinarily do live, arrive unto seventy, and if potentates reach unto eighty, those once passed, they are dead on their feet. He termeth those men potentates, who are of this temperature, for more than any other they resist the causes which abridge the life. Galen layeth down the last token, saying, that they are very wise, of great memory for things passed, of great imagination to foresee those to come, and of great understanding to find out the truth of all matters. They are not malicious, not wily, not cavillers, for these spring from a temperature that is vicious Such a wit as this assuredly, was not framed by nature to addict itself unto the study of the Latin tongue, Logic, Philosophy, Physic, Divinity, or the Laws: for put case he might easily attain these sciences, yet none of them can fully replenish his capacity; only the office of a king is in proportion answerable thereunto, and in ruling and governing aught the same solely to be employed. This shall easily be seen if you run over the tokens and properties of a temperate man, which we have laid down, by taking into consideration, how fitly each of them squareth with the royal sceptre, and how impertinent they show for the other arts and sciences.  
That a king be fair and gracious, is one of the things which most inviteth his subjects to love him and wish him well; For the object of love (saith Plato) is beauty and a seemly proportion: and if a king be hardly favoured, and badly shaped, it is impossible that his subjects can bear him affection, rather they reak it a shame, that a man unperfect and void of the gifts of nature, should have sway and commandment over them. To be virtuous and of good conditions, easily may we gather how greatly it importeth; for he who ought to order the lives of his subjects, and deliver unto them rules and laws to live conformably to reason, it is requisite that he perform the same also in his own person: for as the king is, such are the great, the mean, and the inferior persons.  
Moreover, by this means he shall make his commandments the more authentical, and with the better title may chastise such as do not observe them. To enjoy a perfection in all the powers which govern man, namely; the generative, nutritive, wrathful and reasonable, is more necessary in a king, than any artist whatsoeever. For (as Plato delivereth) in a well ordered commonwealth, there should be appointed certain surveyors who might with skill look into the qualities of such persons as are to be married, and give to him a wife answerable unto him in proportion, and to every wife a convenient husband. Through this diligence, the principal end of matrimony should not become vain; for we see by experience, that a woman who could not conceive of her first husband, marrying another, straightways beareth children; and many men have no children by their first wife, taking another, speedily come to be fathers.  
Now this skill (saith Plato) is principally behoveful in the marriage of kings: for it being a matter of such importance, for the peace and quiet of the kingdom, that the Prince have lawful children to succeed in the estate, it may so fall, that the king marrying at all adventures, shall take a barren woman to wife, with whom he shall be cumbered all days of his life, without hope of issue. And if he decease without heirs of his body, straightways it must be decided by civil wars, who shall command next after him. But Hypocrates saith, this art is necessary for men that are distemperate, and not for those who partake this perfect temperature by us described. These need no special choice in their wife, nor to search out which may answer them in proportion: for whom soever they marry withal (saith Galen) forthwith they beget issue, but this is understood, when the wife is sound, and of the age wherein women by order of nature, may conceive and bring forth: in sort, that fruitfulness is more requisite in a king than in any artist whatsoever, for the reasons tofore alleged.  
The nutritive power (saith Galen) if the same be gluttonous, greedy, and bibbing, it springeth, for that the liver and stomach want the temperature which is requisite for their operations: and for this cause men become riotous and short lived. But if these members possess their due temperature and composition, the self Galen affirmeth, that they covet no greater quantity of meat and drink than is convenient for preservation of life. Which property is of so great importance for a king, that God holdeth that land for blessed, to whose lot such a Prince befalleth. Blessed is the land (saith he in Ecclesiasticus) whose king is noble, and whose princes feed in due times, for their refreshment, and not for riotousness. Of the wrathful faculty if the same be extended or remiss, it is a token (saith Galen) that the heart is ill composed, and partaketh not that temperature, which is requisite for his operations. From which two extremes, a king ought to be farther distant, than any other artist. For to join wrathfulness with much power maketh smally for the subjects avail. And as illy fitteth it for a king to have his wrathful power remiss: for if he slightly slip over bad parts and attempts in his kingdom, he groweth out of awe and reverence amongst his subjects; whence great damages and very difficult to be remedied, do accustomably arise in the commonwealth. But the man who is temperate, groweth displeased upon good ground, and can pacify himself as is requisite: which property is as necessary to be settled in a king, as any of those which we have before remembered. How much it importeth that the faculty reasonable, the imagination, the memory, and the understanding, be of greater perfection in a king than in any other, is easily to be proved: for the other arts and sciences (as it seemeth) may be obtained and put in practice by the force of man's wit: but to govern a kingdom, and to preserve the same in peace and concord, not only requireth, that the king be endowed with a natural wisdom to execute the same: but it is also necessary, that God particularly assist him with his understanding, and aid him in governing: whence it was well noted in the scripture, The heart of the king is in the hand of God. To live also many years, and to enjoy continual health, is a property more convenient for a good king than for any other artisan. For his industry and travel, breedeth an universal good to all: and if he fail to hold out in healthfulness, the commonwealth falleth to ruin.  
All this doctrine here laid down by us, will be evidently confirmed, if we can find in any history, that at any time there was any king chosen, in whom any of those tokens and conditions by us recited, were not wanting. And truth hath this as peculiar to her nature, that she never lacketh arguments, whereby to be confirmed.  
The divine scripture recounteth, that God falling in dislike with Saul, for that he had spared Amalecks' life; commanded Samuel that he should go to Bethleem, and anoint for king of Israel, one of the eight sons of jesse. Now the holy man, presuming that God had a liking to Eliab, for that he was tall of stature; demanded of him, Is this man, here in the presence of my Lord, his Christ? to which question he was answered in this manner, Take not regard to his countenance, nor to the tallness of his stature, for I have refused him. I judge not man by his look: for man seethe the things outwardly apparent, but the Lord discerneth the heart; As if God should say, Mark not (O Samuel) the high stature of Eliab, nor that manly countenance which thou beholdest: for I have tried that in Saul. You men judge by the outward signs, but I cast mine eye upon the judgement and wisdom, wherewith a people is to be governed.  
Samuel mistrusting his own skill in choosing, passed on farther in the charge which was commanded him; ask still of God, upon every one, which of them he should anoint for king: and because God held himself contented with none of them, he said unto jesse; hast thou yet no more sons but those who stand before us? Who answered, saying; That he had yet one more, who kept his beasts, but he was of little growth: him seeming, that therefore he was not sufficient to wield the royal sceptre. But Samuel now wisted, that a great stature was no sure token, caused him to be sent for. And it is a point worth the noting, that the holy Scripture, before it expressed how he was anointed king, said in this manner; But he was abourne haired, and of a fair countenance, and a visage well shaped, arise and anoint him, for this is he. In sort, that David had the two first tokens, of those which we recounted, abourne haired, handsome shaped, and of a mean stature. To be virtuous and well conditioned, which is the third sign easily we may conceive, that he was therewithal endowed, seeing that God said, I have found a man after my heart: for albeit he sinned sundry times, yet for all that, he lost not the name and habit of virtue. Even as one by habit vicious, though he perform some good moral works, doth not therefore lose the name of lewd and vicious. That he led all the course of his life in health, it should seem may be proved; because in his whole history, mention is made of his sickness but once (& this is a natural disposition, of all such as are long lived.) Now because his natural heat was resolved, and that he could not take heat in his bed; to remedy this, they couched a very fair lady by his side, who might foster him with heat. And herethrough he lived so many years, that the text saith, he deceased in a good age, full of days, of riches, and of glory: as if it should say, David died in a good old age, full of days, of riches, and of glory: having endured so many travails in the wars, and undergone great penance for his transgressions And this grew, for that he was temperate, & of a good complexion: for he refused the occasions, which accustomably breed infirmity, and shortening of man's life. His great wisdom and knowledge was noted by that servant of Saul when he said; My lord, I know a cunning musician, the son of jesse, born in Bethleem, courageous in fight, wise in discourse, and of seemly countenance. By which tokens (above specified) it is manifest, that David was a temperate man, and to such is the royal sceptre belonging: for his wit is of the best mould that nature could fashion. But there presenteth itself a very great difficulty against this doctrine, namely; seeing God knew all the wits and abilities of Israel: and likewise witted, that temperate men are seized of the wisdom and knowledge requisite to the calling of a king: for what cause in the first election that he made, he sought not out a man of this sort? Nay the text avoucheth, that Saul was so tall of stature, as he passed all the residue of Israel, by the head & shoulders, And this sign is not only an evil token of wit in natural Philosophy, but even God himself (as we have proved) reproved Samuel, because (moved by the high growth of Eliab) he thereupon would have made him king. But this doubt declareth that to be true, which Galen said, that out of Greece, we shall not (so much as in a dream) find out a temperate man, Seeing in a people so large (as that of Israel) God could not find one to 
A weak reason, rather God chose Saul as a carnal man sit for the jews obstinate ask, and David as a spiritual man, the instrument of his mercy.  choose for a king: but it behoved him to tarry, till David was grown up, and the whiles made choice of Saul. For the text saith, that he was the best of Israel: but verily it seemed he had more good nature than wisdom, and that was not sufficient to rule and govern. Teach me (saith the Psalm) goodness, discipline, and knowledge. And this the royal Prophet David spoke, seeing that it availeth not for a king to be good and virtuous, unless he join wisdom and knowledge there withal. By this example of king David, it seemeth we have sufficiently approved our opinion.  
But there was also another king borne in Israel, of whom it was said, Where is he that is borne king of the jews? And if we can prove, that he was abourne haired, towardly, of mean bigness, virtuous, healthful, and of great wisdom and knowledge, it will be no way damageable to this our doctrine. The Evangelists busied not themselves, to report the disposition of Christ our redeemer: for it served not to the purpose of that which they handled, but is a matter which may easily be understood, supposing that for a man to be temperate, as is requisite, compriseth all the perfection, wherewith naturally he can be endowed. And seeing that the holy spirit-compounded and instrumentalized him, it is certain that as touching the material cause, of which he form him, the distemperature of Nazareth could not resist him, nor make him err in his work, as do the other natural agents: but he performed what him best pleased: for he wanted neither force, knowledge, nor will, to frame a man most perfect, and without any defect. And that so much the rather, for that his coming (as himself affirmed) was to endure travels for man's sake, and to teach him the truth. And this temperature (as we have before proved) is the best natural instrument that can be found for these two things. Wherethrough I hold that relation for true, which Publius Lcntulus, Viceconsul, wrote from Jerusalem unto the Roman Senate 
And I hold it untrue, because the phrase utterly differeth from the Latin tongue as spectosus valde inter filios bominum.  after this manner.  
There hath been seen in our time, a man who yet liveth, of great virtue, called jesus Christ, who by the Gentiles, is termed the prophet of truth, and his disciples say, that he is the son of God. He raiseth the deceased, and healeth the diseased, is a man of mean and proportionable stature, and of very fair countenance, his look carrieth such a majesty, as those who behold him, are enforced both to love and fear him. He hath his hair coloured like a nut full ripe, reaching down to his ears, and from his ears to his shoulders; they are of wax colour, but more bright: he hath in the middle of his forehead, a lock, after the manner of Nazareth. His forehead is plain, but very pleasing: his face void of spot or wrinkle, accompanied with a moderate colour: his nostrils and mouth, cannot by any with reason be reproved: his beard thick, and resembling his hair; not long, but forked: his countenance very gracious and grave: his eyes graceful and clear; and when he rebuketh, he daunteth; and when he admonisheth, he pleaseth: he maketh himself to be beloved, and is cheerful with gravity: he hath never been seen to laugh, but to weep divers times: his hands and arms are very fair: in his conversation he contenteth very greatly, but is seldom in company: but being in company, is very modest: in his countenance and port, he is the seemliest man that may be imagined. In this relation, are contained three or four tokens of a temperate person.  
The first that he had, his hair and beard of the colour of a nut fully ripe, which to him that considereth it well appeareth to be a brown abourne; which colour, God commanded they heifer should have, which was to be sacrificed as a figure of Christ: and when he entered into 
(Unwritten Verities.)  heaven with that triumph and majesty, which was requisite for such a Prince: some Angels who had not been informed of his incarnation, said; Who is this that cometh from Edon, with his garments died in Bozra? as if they had said, Who is he that cometh from the red Land, with his garment stained in the same die, in respect of his hair & his red beard, and of the blood with which he was tainted? The same letter also reporteth him to be the fairest man that ever was seen, and this is the second token of a temperate person, and so was it prophesied by the holy scripture as a sign whereby to know him. Of fair shape above all the children of men. And in another place he saith, His eyes are fairer than the wine, and his teeth whiter than milk. Which beauty and good disposition of body, imported much to effect that all men should bear him affection, and that there might be nothing in him worthy to be abhorred. For which cause, the letter delivereth, that all men were enforced to love him. It reciteth also that he was mean of parsonage, and that not because the holy Ghost wanted matter to make him greater, if so it had seemed good: but (as we tofore have proved by the opinion of Plato and Aristotle) because when the reasonable soul is burdened with much bones and flesh, the same incurreth great damage in his wit.  
The third sign, namely; to be virtuous and well conditioned, is likewise expressed in this letter, and the jews themselves with all their false witnesses, could not prove the contrary, nor reply when he demanded of them, Which of you can reprove me of sin? And joseph (through the faithfulness which he owed to his history) affirmed of him that he partaked of another nature above man, in respect of his goodness & wisdom. Only long life could not be verified of Christ our redeemer, because they put him to death being young; where as if they had permitted him to finish his natural course, the same would have reached to 80 years and upwards. For he who could abide in a wilderness 40 days, and 40 nights without meat or drink, and not be sick nor dead therewithal, could better have defended himself from other lighter things, which had power to breed alteration or offence. Howbeit this action was reputed miraculous, and a matter which could not light within the compass of nature.  
These two examples of kings, which we have alleged, sufficeth to make understood, that the sceptre royal, is due to men that are temperate; and that such are endowed with the wit and wisdom requisite for that office. But there was also another man, made by the proper hands of God, to the end he should be king and Lord of all things created, & he made him fair, virtuous, sound, of long life, and very wise. And to prove this, shall not beamisse for our purpose. Plato holdeth it for a matter impossible, that God or nature, can make a man temperate in a country distemperate: wherethrough he affirmeth that God, to create a man of great wisdom & temperature, sought out a place where the heat of the air should not exceed the cold, nor the moist the dry. And the divine scripture, whence he borrowed this sentence, saith not, that God created Adam in the earthly paradise, which was that most temperate place whereof he speaketh; but that after he had shaped him, there he placed him. Then our Lord God (saith he) took man, and set him in the Paradise of pleasure, to the end he might there work and take it in charge. For the power of God being infinite, & his knowledge beyond measure, when he had a will to give him all the natural perfection that might be in mankind; we must think that neither the piece of earth of which he was framed, nor the distemperature of the soil of Damascus where he was created, could so gainsay him, but that he made him temperate. The opinion of Plato, of Aristotle, and of Galen, take place in the works of nature: and even she also, can sometimes (even in distemperate regions) engender a person that shallbe temperate. But that Adam had his hair and his beard abourne, which is the first token of a temperate man, manifestly appeareth. For in respect of this so notorious sign, he had that name Adam, which is to say (as S. Hierom interpreteth it) a red man. That he was fair & well fashioned, which is the second token, cannot in him be denied: for when God created him, the text saith; God saw all things which he had made, and they were very good. Then it falleth out certain, that he issued not from the hands of God, foul and ill shaped: for the works of God are perfect. And so much the more for that the trees (as the text saith) were fair to behold. Then what may we think of Adam, whom God created to this principal end, that he might be Lord and precedent of the world? That he was virtuous, wise, and well conditioned, (which are the third and sixth signs) is gathered out of these words, Let us make a man after our own image and likeness: for by the ancient Philosophers, the foundation on which the resemblance that man hath with God is grounded, are virtue & wisdom. Therefore Plato avoucheth, that one of the greatest contentments which God receiveth in heaven, is to see a virtuous and wise man, praised and magnified upon earth: for such a one is his lively portraiture. And contrariwise, he groweth displeased, when ignorant and vicious persons are held in estimation and honour: which springeth from the unlikeness between God and them. That he lived healthful and a long space (which are the fourth and fifth tokens) is nothing difficult to prove, inasmuch as his days were 930 years. Where through I may now conclude, that the man who is auburn haired, 
(And such a one if you mistake not, is your king Philip.)  fair, of mean stature, virtuous, healthful, and long lived, must necessarily be very wise, and endowed with a wit requisite for the sceptre royal.  
We have also (as by the way) disclosed, in what sort great understanding may be united with much imagination, and much memory, albeit this may also come to pass, and yet the man not be temperate. But nature shapeth so few after this model, that I could never find 
(Your king and yourself.)  but two amongst all the wits that I have tried: but how it can come to pass, that great understanding may unite with much imagination and much memory, in a man not temperate, is a thing which easily may be conceived, if you presuppose the opinion of some Physicians, who affirm that the imagination resideth in the forepart of the brain, the memory in the hinder part, and the understanding in that of the middle. And the like may be said in our imagination, but it is a work of great labour, that the brain, being (when nature createth the same) of the bigness of a grain of pepper, it should make one ventricle of seed very hot, another very moist, and the middle most of very dry: but in fine this is no impossible case.   

CHAP. XV.  
In what manner Parents may beget wise children, and of a wit fit for learning.  
IT falleth out a matter worthy of marvel, that nature being such as we all know her, wise, witty, and of great art, judgement, and force, and mankind a work of so special regard, yet for one whom she maketh skilful and wise, she produceth infinite deprived of wit. Of which effect myself searching the reason and natural causes, have found (in my judgement) that parents apply not themselves to the act of generation with that order and concert which is by nature established: neither know the conditions which ought to be observed, to the end their children may prove of wisdom and judgement. For by the same reason, for which in any temperate or distemperate region, a man should be borne very witty (having always regard to the self order of causes) there will 100000 prove of slender capacity: now if by art we may procure a remedy for this, we shall have brought to the commonwealth the greatest benefit that she can receive. But the knot of this matter consisteth, in that we cannot entreat hereof with terms so seemly and modest, as to the natural shamefastness of man is requisite: and if for this reason I should forbear to note any part or contemplation that is necessary, for certain the whole matter would be marred, in sort that divers grave Philosophers hold opinion, how wise men ordinarily beget foolish children, because in the act of copulation, for honesties sake, they abstain from certain diligences which are of importance, that the son may partake of his father's wisdom. Some ancient Philosophers have laboured to search out the natural reason of this natural shame, which the eyes conceive when the instruments of generation are set before them; and why the ears take offence to hear them named: and they marvel to see, that nature hath framed those parts with such diligence and carefulness, and for an end of such importance, as the immortalizing of mankind, and yet the wiser a man is, the more he groweth in dislike to behold or hear them spoken of. Shame and honesty (saith Aristotle) is the proper passion of the understanding, and who so resteth not offended at those terms and actions of generation, giveth a sure token of his wanting that power, as if we should say, that he is blockish, who putting his hand into the fire, doth not feel the same to burn. By this token, Cato the elder discovered, that Manilius (a noble man) was deprived of understanding, because it was told him, that the other kissed his wife in presence of his daughter; for which cause he displaced him out of the Senate, and Manilius could never obtain at his hands to be restored.  
Out of this contemplation, Aristotle frameth a problem, demanding whence it grew, that men who desire to satisfy their venerous lusts, do yet greatly shame to confess it, and yet coveting to live, to eat, or to perform any other such action, they stagger not to acknowledge it? to which problem he shapeth a very untoward answer, saying; Perhaps it cometh, because the covet of divers things are necessary, and some of them kill if they be not accomplished, but the lust of venerous acts, floweth from excess, and is token of abundance. But in effect this problem is false, and the answer none other: for a man not only shameth to manifest the desire he carrieth to company with a woman, but also to eat, to drink, and to sleep, and if a will take him to send forth any excrement, he dares not say it or do it, but with cumber & shamefastness, and so gets him to some secret place out of sight. Yea, we find men so shamefast, as though they have a great will to make water, yet cannot do it if any look upon them, whereas if we leave them alone, straightways the urine taketh his issue. And these are the appetites to send forth the superfluous things of the body, which if they were not effected, men should die, and that much sooner than with forbearing meat or drink. And if there be any (saith Hypocrates) who speaketh or actuateth this in the presence of another, he is not master of his sound judgement. Galen affirmeth, that the seed holdeth the semblable proportion with the seed-vessels, as the urine doth with the bladder, for as much urine annoyeth the bladder, so much seed endammageth the seed vessels. And the opinion which Aristotle held, in denying that man and woman incur no infirmity or death by retaining of seed, is contrary to the judgement of all Physicians, and especially of Galen, who saith and avoucheth, that many women remaining widows in their youth, have therethrough lost their sense, motion, breathing, and finally their life. And the self Aristotle reckoneth up many diseases whereunto continent persons are subject in that behalf. The true answer of this problem cannot be yielded in natural Philosophy, because it is not marshaled under her jurisdiction; for it behoveth to pass to an higher, namely Metaphysic, wherein Aristotle saith, that the reasonable soul is the lowest of all the intelligences, and for that it partaketh of the same general nature with the Angels, it shameth to behold itself placed in a body which hath fellowship with brute beasts: wherethrough the divine scripture noteth it as a mystery, that the first man being naked, was not ashamed, but so soon as he saw himself to be so, forthwith he got a covering. At which time he knew that through his own fault, he had lost immortality, and that his body was become subject to alteration and corruption, and those instruments and parts given him for that of necessity he must die, and leave an other in his room, and that to preserve himself in life, that small space which rested, it behoved him to eat and drink, and to expel those noisome and corrupt excrements. And principally he shamed, seeing that the Angels, with whom he had competence, were immortal and stood not in need of eating, drinking, or sleeping: 
An high speculation.  for preservation of their life: neither had the instruments of generation, but were created all at once, without matter, and without fear of corrupting. Of all these points were the eyes and the ears naturally done to ware. Wherethrough, the reasonable soul groweth, displeased and ashamed, that these things given man to make him mortal and corruptible, are thus brought to his memory. And that this is a well fitting answer we 
Note here a sign which showeth the immortality of the soul.  evidently perceive: for God to content the soul after the universal judgement, and to bestow upon him entire glory, will cause that his body shall partake the properties of an Angel, bestowing thereupon subtleness, lightness, immortality, and brightness: for which reason, he shall not stand in need to eat or drink as the brute beasts. And when men shall thus-wise dwell in heaven, they will not shame to behold themselves clothed with flesh, even as Christ our redeemer, and his mother, nothing shamed thereat. But it will breed an accidental glory, to see that the use of those parts, which were wont to offend the hearing and the eyes, is now surceased. I therefore making due reckoning of this natural modesty of the ear, have endeavoured to salve the hard and rough terms of this matter, and to fetch certain, not ill pleasing biasses of speech, and where I cannot thoroughly perform it, the honest reader shall afford me pardon. For to reduce to a perfect manner, the art which must be observed, to the end men may prove of rare capacities, is one of the things most requisite for the commonwealth. Besides that, by the same reason they shall prove virtuous, prompt, sound, and long lived.  
I have thought good to sever the matter of this chapter, into four principal parts, that thereby I may make plain what shallbe delivered; and that the reader may not rest in confusion. The first is, to show the natural qualities and temperature which man & woman ought to possess, to the end they may use generation. The second, what diligence the parents ought to employ, that their children may be male and not female. The third, how they may become wise and not fools. The fourth, how they are to be dealt withal after their birth, for preservation of their wit.  
To come then to the first point we have already alleged, that Plato layeth down, how in a well ordered commonwealth, there ought to be assigned certain surveyors of marriages, who by art might skill, to look into the qualities of the persons that are to be married, and to give each one the wife which answereth him in proportion, & to every wife her convenient husband. In which matter, Hypocrates and Galen began to take some pains, and prescribed certain precepts and rules, to know what woman is fruitful, and who can bear no children; and what man is unable for generation, and who able and likely to beget issue. But touching all this, they uttered very little, and that not with such distinction as was behoveful, at least for the purpose which I have in hand. Therefore it falleth out necessary, to begin the art even from his principles, and briefly to give the same his due order and concert, that we so may make plain and apparent, from what union of parents, wise children issue; and from what, fools and do-noughts: To which end it behoveth first to know a particular point of Philosophy, which although in regard of the practices of the art, it be very manifest and true, yet the vulgar make little reak thereof. And from the notice of this, dependeth all that, which as touching this first point is to be delivered: and that is, that man (though it seem otherwise in the composition which we see) is different from 
This is no chapter for maids to read in sight of others.  a woman in nought else (saith Galen) than only in having his genital members without his body. For if we make anatomy of a woman, we shall find that she hath within her two stones, two vessels for seed; and her belly of the same frame as a man's member, without that any one part is therein wanting. And this is so very true, that if when nature hath finished to form a man in all perfection, she would convert him into a woman, there needeth nought else to be done, save only to turn his instruments of generation inwards. And if she have shaped a woman, and would make a man of her, by taking forth her belly and her cod, it would quickly be performed. This hath chanced many times in nature, aswell whiles the creature hath been in the mother's womb, as after the same was borne, whereof the histories are full; but some have held them only for fables, because this is mentioned in the Poets, yet the thing carrieth mere truth: for divers times nature hath made a female child, and she hath so remained in her mother's belly for the space of one or two months: and afterwards, plenty of heat growing in the genital members, upon some occasion they have issued forth, and she become a male. To whom this transformation hath befallen in the mother's womb, is afterwards plainly discovered, by certain motions which they retain, unfitting for the masculine sex, being altogether womanish, & their voice shrill & sweet. And such persons are inclined to perform women's actions, and fall ordinarily into uncouth offences. Contrariwise, nature hath sundry times made a male with his genitoroes outward, and cold growing on, they have turned in ward, and it became female. This is known after she is borne, for she retaineth a mannish fashion, aswell in her words, as in all her motions and workings. This may seem difficult to be proved, but considering that which many authentical historians affirm, it is a matter not hard to be credited. And that women have been turned into men, after they were borne, the very vulgar do not much marvel to hear spoke of: for besides that which sundry our elders have laid down for truth, It befell in Spain but few years since, and that whereof we find experience, is not to be called in question or argument. What then the cause may be, that the genital members are engendered within or without, and the creature becometh male or female, will fall out a plain case, if we once know that heat extendeth and enlargeth all things, and cold retaineth and closeth them up. wherethrough, it is a conclusion of all Philosophers and Physicians, that if the seed be cold and moist, a woman is begotten, and not a man; and if the same be hot and dry, a man is begotten and not a woman. Whence we apparently gather, that there is no man, who in respect of a woman, may be termed cold; nor woman hot, in respect of a man.  
Aristotle saith, it is necessary for a woman to be cold and moist, that she may be likewise fruitful: for if she were not so, it would fall out impossible, that her monthly course should flow, or she have milk to preserve the child nine months, in her belly, and two years after it is borne, but that the same would soon waste and consume.  
All Philosophers and Physicians avouch, that the belly holdeth the same proportion with man's seed, that the earth doth with corn, and with any other grain. And we see, that if the earth want coldness and moisture, the husbandman dareth not sow therein, neither will the seed prosper. But of soils, those are most fruitful and fertile in rendering fruit, which partake most of cold and moist, As we see by experience in the regions towards the North, As England, Flanders, and Almain, whose abundance of all fruits, worketh astonishment in such as know not the reason thereof. And in such countries as these, no married woman was ever childless; neither 
You are much mistaken.  can they there tell, what barrenness meaneth, but are all fruitful, and breed children through their abundance of coldness and moisture. But though it is true that the woman should be cold and moist for conception, Yet she may abound so much therein, that it may choke the seed; even as we see excess of rain spoileth the corn, which cannot ripen in overmuch coldness. Whereon we must conceive, that these two qualities ought to keep a certain measurableness, which when they exceed, or reach not unto, the fruitfulness is spoiled. Hypocrates holdeth that woman for fruitful, whose womb is tempered in such sort, as the heat exceedeth not the cold, nor the moist the dry. Wherethrough he saith, that those women who have their belly cold, cannot conceive, no more than such as are very moist, or very cold and dry. But so, for the same reason that a woman and her genital parts should be temperate; it were impossible that she could conceive, or be a woman. For if the seed, of which she was first form, had been temperate, the genital members would have issued forth, and she have been a man. So should a beard grow on her chin, and her flowers surcease, and she become as perfect a man, as nature could produce. Likewise the womb in a woman cannot be predominatly hot: For if the seed whereof she was engendered had been of that temperature, she should have been born a man, and not a woman. This is passed all exception, that the qualities which yield a woman fruitful, are cold and moisture: for the nature of man, standeth in need of much nourishment, that he may be able to use procreation, and continue his kind. Wherethrough we see, that amongst all the females of brute beasts, none have their monthly courses as a woman. Therefore it was requisite to make her altogether cold and moist, and that in such a degree, as that she might breed much phlegmatic blood, and not be able to waste or consume the same. I said phlegmatic blood, because this is serviceable to the breeding of milk; by which Hypocrates and Galen avouch, the creature is relieved, all the time it remaineth in the mother's belly. Now if the same should be temperate, it would produce much blood, unfit for the engendering of milk, and would wholly resolve, as it doth in a temperate man, and so nothing be left for nourishing the babe. Therefore I hold it for certain, and verily it is impossible that a woman can be temperate or hot; but they are all cold and moist. And if this be not so, let the Philosopher or Physician tell me for what cause all women are beardless, and have their sickness whiles they are healthful, & for what cause the seed of which she was form, being temperate or hot, she was borne a woman, & not a man? Howbeit, though it be true that they are alcold & moist: yet it followeth not, that they are all in one degree of coldness and moisture. For some are in the first, some in the second, and some in the third; and in each of these they may conceive, if a man answer them in proportion of heat, as shall hereafter be expressed. By what tokens we may know these three degrees of coldness and moisture in a woman, and likewise weet who is in the first, who is in the second, and who in the third: there is no Philosopher or Physician, that as yet hath unfolded. But considering the effects, which these qualities do work in women, we may part them, by reason of their being extended, and so we shall easily get notice hereof. The first, by the wit and ability of the woman. The second, by her manners and conditions. The third, by her voice big or small. The fourth, by her flesh, much, or little. The fifth, by her colour. The sixth by her hair. The seventh, by her fairness or foulness. As touching the first, we may know, that though it be true (as tofore we have proved) that the wit and ability of a woman, followeth the temperature of the brain, and of none other member: yet her womb and cod, are of so great force and vigour, to alter the whole body, that if these be hot and dry, or cold and moist, or of whatsoever other temperature, the other parts (saith Galen) will be of the same tenor: but the member which most partaketh the alterations of the belly, all Physicians say, is the brain, though they have not set down the reason whereon they ground this correspondency. True it is Galen proveth by experience, that by speying a Sow, she becometh fair and fat, and her flesh very savoury: and if she have her cod, she tasteth little better than dog's flesh. Whereby we conceive, that the belly and the cod carry great efficacy, to communicate their temperature to all the other parts of the body; especially to the brain, for that the same is cold & moist like themselves. Between which (through the resemblance) the passage is easy.  
Now if we conclude, that cold and moist, are the qualities which work an impairment in the reasonable part, and that his contraries; namely hot and dry, give the same perfection and increasement, we shall find that the woman who showeth much wit and sufficiency, partaketh of cold and moist in the first degree; and if she be very simple, it yieldeth a sign that she is in the third, the partaking between which two extremes, argueth the second degree; for to think that a woman can be hot and dry, or endowed with a wit and ability conformable to these two qualities, is a very great error; because if the seed of which she was form, had been hot and dry in their domination, she should have been born a man, and not a woman. But in that it was could and moist, she was born a woman and not a man. The truth of this doctrine may clearly be discerned, if you consider the wit of the first woman, who lived in the world: for God having fashioned her with his own hands, and that very accomplished, and perfect in her sex, it is a conclusion infallibly true, that she was possessed of much less knowledge than Adam: which the devil well weet, got him to tempt her, and durst not fall in disputation with the man, fearing his great wit and wisdom. Now to say, that Eve for her offence, was reft that knowledge which she wanted, cannot be avouched, for as yet she had not offended.  
So then this defect of wit in the first woman grew, for that she was by God created cold and moist: which temperature, is necessary to make a woman fruitful, and apt for childbirth, but enemy to knowledge: and if he had made her temperate like Adam, she should have been very wise, but nothing fruitful, nor subject to her monthly courses, save by some supernatural means. On this nature S. Paul grounded himself, when he said, Let a woman learn in silence, with all subjection: neither would he allow the woman to teach, or govern the man, but to keep silence. But this is true, when a woman hath not a spirit or greater grace, than her own natural disposition: but if she obtain any gift from above, she may well teach and speak, for we know that the people of Israel, being oppressed and besieged by the Assyrians; judith (a very wise woman) sent for the Priests of the Cabeits and Carmits, and reproved them saying, How can it be endured, that Osias should say, if within five days there come no succour, he will yield the people of Israel to the Assyrians? see you not, that these words rather provoke God to wrath, than to mercy? how may it be, that men should point out a limited time for the mercy of God, and in their mind assign a day, at which he must secure and deliver them? And in the conclusion of this reproof, she told them in what sort they might please God, and obtain their demand. And no less, Elbora (a woman of no less wisdom) taught the people of Israel, how they should render thanks unto God, for the great victories which she had attained against their enemies. But whilst a woman abideth in her natural disposition, all sorts of learning and wisdom, carrieth a kind of repugnancy to her wit. And for this cause, the Catholic Church, upon great reason hath forbidden, that no woman do preach, confess, or instruct: for their sex admitteth neither wisdom nor discipline.  
It is discovered also by the manners of a woman, and by her condition, in what degree of cold and moist her temperature consisteth: for if with a sharp wit, she be froward, cursed, & wayward, she is in the first degree of cold and moist: it being true (as we have proved tofore) that an ill condition, evermore accompanieth a good imagination. She who partaketh this degree of cold & moist, suffereth nothing to escape her hands; noteth all things, findeth fault with all things, and so is insupportable. Such are accustomably of amiable conversation, and fear not to look men in the face, nor hold him ill mannered, who maketh love unto them. But on the other side, to be a woman of good conditions, and to be aggrieved at nothing, to laugh upon every small occasion, to let things pass as they come, and to sleep sound, describeth the third degree of cold and moist: for much pleasantness of conceit, is ordinarily accompanied with little wit. She who partaketh of these two extremes, standeth in the second degree. A voice, hoarse, big, and sharp (saith Galen) is a token of much heat and drought, and we have also proved it heretofore, by the opinion of Aristotle, wherethrough we may gain this notice, that if a woman have a voice like a man, she is cold and moist in the first degree, and if very delicate, in the third. And partaking betwixt both the extremes, she shall have the natural voice of a woman, and be in the second degree.  
How much the voice dependeth on the temperature of the cod, shall shortly hereafter be proved, where we entreat of the tokens appertaining to a man. Much flesh also in women, is a sign of much cold and moist: for to be fat and big (say the Physicians) groweth in living creatures, from this occasion. And contrariwise, to be lean and dry, is a token of little coldness & moisture. To be meanly fleshed, that is, neither overmuch, nor very little; giveth evidence that a woman holdeth herself in the second degree of cold and moist. Their pleasantness and courtesies, showeth the degrees of these two qualities: much moisture maketh their flesh supple, and little, rough and hard. The mean is the commendablest part: The colour also of the face, and of the other parts of the body, discovereth the extended or remiss degrees, of these two qualities. When the woman is very white, it boadeth (saith Galen) much cold and moist: and contrariwise, she that is swart and brown, is in the first degree thereof; of which two extremes, is framed the second degree of white and well coloured.  
To have much hair, and a little show of a beard, is an evident sign, to know the first degree of cold and moist: for all Physicians affirm, that the hair and beard are engendered of heat and dryness: and if they be black it greatly purporteth the same. A contrary temperature is betokened, when a woman is without hair. Now she whose complexion consisteth in the second degree of cold and moist, hath some hair; but the same reddish and golden. Foulness moreover, and fairness help us to judge the degrees of cold and moist in women. It is a miracle to see a woman of the first degree very fair: for the seed whereof she was form being dry, hindereth that she cannot be fairly countenanced. It behoveth that clay be seasoned with convenient moisture, to the end vessels may be well framed, and serve to use. But when that same is hard & dry, the vessel is soul and unhandsome.  
Aristotle farther avoucheth, that overmuch cold and moist, maketh women by nature foul: for if the seed be cold and very moist, it can take no good figure, because the same standeth not together, as we see, that of over soft clay, ill shaped vessels are fashioned. In the second degree of cold and moist, women prove very fair: for they were form of a substance well seasoned, and pleasant to nature: which token, of itself alone affordeth an evident argument, that the woman is fruitful: for it is certain that nature could do it, and we may judge, that she gave her a temperature and composition, fit for bearing of children. Wherethrough she answers in proportion (well-near) to all men, and all men do desire to have her.  
In man, there is no power which hath tokens or signs, to descry the goodness, or malice of his object. The stomach knoweth the meat by way of taste, of smelling, and of sight, wherethrough the divine scripture saith That Eve fixed her eyes on the tree forbidden, and her seemed that it was sweet in taste. The faculty of generation, holdeth for a token of fruitfulness, a woman's beauty; and if she be foul, it abhorreth her, conceiving by this sign, that nature erred, and gave her not a fit temperature, for bearing of children.  

By what signs we may know, in what degree of hot and dry, every man resteth.  
§ 1.  
A Man hath not his temperature so limited as a woman, for he may be hot & dry (which temperature Aristotle & Galen held, was that which best agreed with his sex) as also hot and moist and temperate; but cold & moist, and cold and dry, they would not admit whilst a man was sound and without impairment: for as you shall find no woman hot and dry, nor hot and moist, or temperate; so shall you find no man cold and moist, nor cold and dry, in comparison of women, unless in case as I shall now express. A man hot and dry, and hot and moist, and temperate, holdeth the same degrees in his temperature, as doth a woman in cold and moist: and so it behoveth to have certain tokens, whereby to discern what man is in what degree, that we may assign him a wife answerable unto him in proportion. We must therefore weet, that from the same principles, of which we gathered understanding what woman is hot and dry, and in what degree, from the self we must also make use to understand what man is hot and dry, and in what degree: and because we said, that from the wit and manners of a man we conjecture the temperature of his cod, it is requisite that we take notice of a notable point, mentioned by Galen, namely, that to make us understand the great virtue which a man's cod possess, to give firmness and temperature to all the parts of the body, he affirmeth that they are of more importance than the heart: and he rendereth a reason, saying, that this member is the beginning of life, & nought else, but the cod are the beginning of living sound and without infirmities. How much it endammageth a man to be deprived of those parts (though so small) there need not many reasons to prove, seeing we see by experience, that forth with the hair and the beard pill away, and the big and shrill voice becometh small, and herewithal a man loseth his forces and natural heat, and resteth in far worse and more miserable condition than if he had been a woman. But the matter most worth the noting is, that if a man before his gelding had much wit and ability, so soon as his stones be cut away, he groweth to lose the same, so far forth as if he had received some notable damage in his very brain. And this is a manifest token, that the cod give & reave the temperature from all the other parts of the body, and he that will not yield credit hereunto, let him consider (as myself have done oftentimes) that of 1000 such capons who addict themselves to their book, none attaineth to any perfection, and even in music (which is their ordinary profession) we manifestly see how blockish they are, which springeth because music is a work of the imagination, & this power requireth much heat, whereas they are cold and moist. So it falleth out a matter certain, that from the wit and ability we may gather the temperature of the cod: for which cause, the man who showeth himself prompt in the works of the imagination, should be hot and dry in the third degree. And if a man be of no great reach, it tokeneth, that with his heat much moisture is united, which always endammageth the reasonable part, and this is the more confirmed if he be good of memory. The ordinary conditions of men hot and dry in the third degree, are courage, pride, liberality, audacity, and cheerfulness, with a good grace and pleasantness, and in matter of women such a one hath no bridle nor ho. The hot and moist are merry, given to laughter, lovers of pastime, fair conditioned, very courteous, shamefast, and not much addicted to women.  
The voice and speech much discovereth the temperature of the cod. That which is big and somewhat sharp, giveth token that a man is hot and dry in the third degree: and if the same be pleasant, amiable, and very delicate, it purporteth little heat and much moisture, as appeareth in the gelded. A man who hath moist united with heat, will have the same high, but pleasant & shrill. Who so is hot and dry in the third degree, is slender, hard and rough fleshed; the same composed of sinews and arteries, and his veins big: contrariwise, to have much flesh, smooth and tender, is show of much moisture: by means whereof, it extendeth and enlargeth out the natural heat. The colour of the skin, if the same be brown, burned, blackish green, and like ashes, yieldeth sign that a man is in the third degree of hot and dry: but if the flesh appeareth white, and well coloured, it argueth little heat and much moisture. The hair & beard are a mark also not to be overslipped: for these two approach very near to the temperature of the cod. And if the hair be very black and big, and specially from the ribs down to the navel, it delivereth an infallible token that the cod partake much of hot and dry: and if there grow some hair also upon the shoulders, the same is so much the more confirmed. But when the hair and beard are of chestnut colour, soft, delicate, and thin: it inferreth not so great plenty of heat and dryness in the cod.  
Men very hot and dry, are never fair, save by miracle, but rather hardfavored, and ill shaped: for the heat and dryness (as Aristotle affirmeth of the Ethiopians) wrieth the proportion of the face, and so they become disfigured. Contrariwise, to be seemly and gracious, proveth a measurable hot and moist: for which cause, the matter yielded itself obedient whereto nature would employ it. Whence it is manifest, that much beauty in a man, is no token of much heat. Touching the signs of a temperate man, we have sufficiently discoursed in the chapter foregoing, and therefore it shall not be needful to reply the same again. It sufficeth only to note that as the physicians place in every degree of heat, three degrees of extension, so also in a temperate man, we are to set down the largeness and ampleness of three other. And he who standeth in the third, next to cold and moist, shallbe reputed cold and moist: for when a degree passeth the mean, it resembleth the other, and that this is true, we manifestly find: for the signs which Galen delivereth us to know a man cold and moist, are the self same of the temperate man, but somewhat more remiss: so is he wise, of good conditions, and virtuous, he hath his voice clear & sweet, is white skinned, of flesh good and supple, & without hair, and if it have any, the same is little and yellow; such are very well favoured and fair of countenance, but Galen affirmeth that their seed is moist, and unfit for generation: these are no great friends to women, nor women unto them.   

What women ought to marry with what man, that they may have children.  
§. 2.  
TO a woman who beareth not children when she is married, Hypocrates commandeth that two points of diligence be used, to know whether it be her defect, or that it grow because the seed of her husband is unable for generation. The first is to make her suffumigations with incense, or Storax, with a garment close wrapped about her, which may hang down on the ground, in sort that no vapour or fume may issue out, and if within a while after she feel the savour of the incense in her mouth, it yieldeth a certain token, that the barrenness cometh not through her defect, in as much as the same found the passages of the belly open, wherethrough it pierced up to the nostrils and the mouth.  
The second is, to take a garlic head clean peeled, and put the same into the belly, what time the woman goeth to sleep, and if the next day she feel in her mouth the sent of the garlic, she is of herself fruitful without any default.  
But albeit these two proofs perform the effect which Hypocrates speaketh of, namely, that the vapour pierce from the inner part up to the mouth, yet the same argueth not an absolute barrenness in the husband, nor an entire fruitfulness in the wife, but an unapt correspondence of both, wherethrough she proveth as barren for him, as he for her: which we see to fall out in daily experience, for the man taking another wife begetteth children, and (which increaseth the marvel, in such as are not seen in that point of natural Philosophy) is, that if these two separate each from other upon pretence of impotency, and so he take another wife, and she another husband, it hath been found, that both have had children. And this groweth, because there are some men whose generative faculty is unable, and not alterable for one woman, and yet for another is apt and begetteth issue. Even as we see by experience in the stomach, that to one kind of meat a man hath great appetite, and to another (though better) it is as dead. What the correspondence should be, which the man & wife ought to bear each to other, to the end they may bring forth children, is expressed by Hypocrates in these words, If the hot answer not the cold, and the dry the moist, with measure and equality, there can be no generation: as if he should say, that if there unite not in the woman's womb two seeds, the one hot, & the other cold, and the one moist and the other dry, extended in equal degree, they cannot beget children For a work so marvelous as is the shaping of a man, standeth in need of a temperature, where the hot may not exceed the cold, nor the moist the dry. For if a man's seed be hot, and the woman's seed hot likewise, there will no engendering succeed. This doctrine thus presupposed, Let us now fit by way of example, a woman cold and moist in the first degree, whose signs we said were, to be wily, ill conditioned, shrill voiced, spare fleshed, and black and green coloured, hairy and evil favoured, she shall easily conceive by a man, that is ignorant, of good conditions, who hath a well sounding and sweet voice, much, white, and supple flesh, little hair, and well coloured, and fair of countenance. She may also be given for wife to a temperate man, whose seed (following the opinion of Galen) we said was most fruitful and answerable to whatsoever woman: Provided that she be sound and of age convenient; but yet with all their incidents, it is very difficult for her to conceive child: and being conceived (saith Hypocrates) within two months the same miscarieth: for she wanteth blood, wherewith to maintain herself and the babe, during the 9 months. Howbeit this will find an easy remedy, if the woman do bathe herself before she company with her husband, and the baigne must consist of water fresh and warm: the which (by Hypocrates) righteth her temperature to a good sort. For it looseneth and moisteneth her flesh, even as the earth ought to be alike disposed, that the grain may therein fasten itself, and gather root.  
Moreover, it worketh a farther effect: for it increaseth the appetite to meat; it restraineth resolution, & causeth a greater quantity of natural heat: wherethrough plenty of phlegmatic blood is increased: by which the little creature, may those nine months have sustenance. The tokens of a woman cold and moist in the third degree, are to be dull witted, well conditioned, to have a very delicate voice, much flesh, and the same soft and white, to want hair and down, and not to be over fair. Such a one, should be wedded to a man hot and dry in the third degree: for his seed is of such fury and fervency, as it behoveth the same to fall into a place very cold and moist, that it may take hold and root. This man is of the quality of Cresses, which will not grow save in the water, and if he partaked less hot and dry, his sowing in so cold a belly were nought else, than to cast grain into a pool.  
Hypocrates giveth counsel that a woman of this sort, should first lessen herself, and lay aside her flesh and her fat before she marry, but then she need not to take to husband a man so hot and dry: for such a temperature would not serve, nor she conceive. A woman cold and moist in the second degree, retaineth a mean in all the tokens which I have specified, save only in beauty, which she enjoyeth in an high degree. Which yieldeth an evident sign, that she will be fruitful, and bear children, and prove gracious and cheerful. She answereth in proportion well-near to all men.  
First to the hot and dry in the second degree, and next to the temperate, and lastly to the hot & moist. From all these unions and conjoinings of men and women, which we have here laid down, may issue wise children, but from the first are the most ordinary. For put case that the seed of a man incline to cold and moist; yet the continual dryness of the mother, and the giving her so little meat, correcteth & amendeth the defect of the father. For that this manner of philosophising never heretofore came to light, it was not possible that all the natural Philosophers could shape an answer to this problem, which asketh, Whence proceedeth it, that many fools have begotten wise children? Whereto they answer, that sottish persons apply themselves affectionately to the carnal act, and are not carried away to any other contemplation. But contrarily, men very wise, even in the copulation go imagining upon matters nothing pertinent to that they have in hand, and therethrough, weaken the seed, and make their children defective, aswell in the powers reasona;, as in the natural. In the other conjoinings it is requisite, to take heed that the woman be cleansed, and dried by a ripe age, and marry not over young: for hence it cometh, that children prove simple and of little wit. The seed of young parents is very moist: for it is but a while since they were borne, and if a man be form of a matter endowed with excessive moisture, it followeth of force, that he prove dull of capacity.   

What diligence ought to be used, that children male, and not female may be borne.  
§. 3.  
THose parents who seek the comfort of having wise children, and such as are towards for learning, must endeavour that they may be borne male: for the female, through the cold and moist of their sex, cannot be endowed with any profound judgement. Only we see, that they talk with some appearance of knowledge, in slight and easy matters, with terms ordinary, and long studied, but being set to learning, they reach no farther than to some smack of the Latin tongue, and this only through the help of memory. For which dullness, themselves are not in blame, but that cold and moist, which made them women, and these self qualities (we have proved heretofore) gainsay the wit and ability. Solomon considering how great scarcity there was of wise men, and that no woman came to the world with a wit apt for knowledge, said in this manner, I found one man amongst 1000; but I have not found one woman amongst the whole rout. As if he should say, that of 1000 men, he had found one wise; but throughout the race of women, he could never light upon one that had judgement. Therefore we are to shun this sex, and to procure that the child be borne male: for in such only resteth a wit capable of learning. It behoveth therefore first to take into consideration, what instruments were ordained by nature in man's body to this effect, and what order of causes is to be observed, that we may obtain the end which we seek for. We must then understand, that amongst many excrements and humours which reside in a man's body: nature (saith Galen) useth only the service of one, to work that mankind may be preserved. This is a certain excrement, which is termed whey, or wheyish blood, whose engendering is wrought in the liver, and in the veins, at such time as the four humours, blood, phlegm, choler and melancholy, do take the form and substance which they ought to have.  
Of such a liquor as this, doth nature serve herself, to resolve the meat, and to work, that the same may pass through the veins and through the straight passages, carrying nourishment to all the parts of the body. This work being finished, the same nature provideth the veins; whose office is nought else, but to draw unto them this whey, and to send it through their passages to the bladder, and from thence out of the body: and this to free man from the offence, which an excrement might breed him. But she, advising that he had certain qualities convenient for generation, provided two veins, which should carry part thereof to the cod and vessels of seed, together with some small quantity of blood, whereby such seed might be form, as was requisite for mankind. Wherethrough she planted one vein in the reins on the right side, which endeth in the right cod, and of the same is the right seed vessel framed; and another on the left side, which likewise taketh his issue at the left cod, and of that is shaped the left seed vessel.  
The requisite qualities of this excrement, that the same may be a convenient matter for engendering of seed, are (saith Galen) a certain tartness and biting which groweth, for that the same is salt, wherethrough it stirreth up the seed vessels, & moveth the creature to procure generation, and not to abandon this thought. And therefore persons very lecherous, are by the Latinists termed Salaces, that is to say, men who have much saltness in their seed.  
Next to this, nature did another thing worthy of great consideration, namely, that to the right side of the reins, and to the right cod, she gave much heat and dryness; and to the left side of the reins, & to the left cod, much cold and moisture: wherethrough, the seed which laboureth in the right cod, issueth out hot and dry, and that of the left cod, cold and moist. What nature pretended by this variety of temperature, aswell in the reins as in the cod, & seed vessels, is very manifest, we knowing by histories very true, that at the beginning of the world, and many years after, a woman brought forth two children at a birth, whereof the one was born male, the other female; the end whereof tended, that for every man, there should be a wife, that mankind might take the speedier increase. She provided then, that the right side of the reins, should yield matter hot and dry to the right cod, and that the same with his heat and dryness should make the seed hot & dry for generation of the male. And the contrary she ordained for the forming of a woman, that the left side of the reins, should send forth seed could and moist to the left cod, and that the same with his coldness and moisture, should make the seed cold and moist, whence it ensued of force, that a female must be engendered. But after that the earth was replenished with people, it seemeth that this order and concert of nature was broken off, and this double childbearing surceased, & which is worst, for one man that is begotten, 6 or 7 women are born to the world, ordinarily. Whence we comprizce, that either nature is grown weary, or some error is thwarted in the mids, which beareth her from working as she would. What the same is, a little hereafter we will express, when we may lay down the conditions, which are to be observed, to the end a male child (without missing) may be borne. I say then, that if parents will attain the end of their desire in this behalf, they are to observe 6 points. One of which is, to eat meats hot and dry. The second, to procure that they make good digestion in the stomach. The third, to use much exercise. The fourth, not to apply themselves unto the act of generation, until their seed be well ripened and seasoned. The fifth, to company with the wife four or five days before her natural course is to run. The sixth, to procure, that the seed fall in the right side of the womb, which being observed (as we shall prescribe) it will grow impossible, that a female should be engendered. As touching the first condition, we must weet, that albeit a good stomach do parboil and alter the meat, and spoil the same of his former quality, yet it doth never utterly deprive itself of them: for if we eat lettuce (whose quality is cold and moist) the blood engendered thereof, shallbe cold and moist, the whey cold and moist, and the seed cold and moist. And if we eat honey (whose quality is hot and dry) the blood which we breed, shallbe hot and dry, the whey hot and dry, and the seed hot and dry: for it is impossible (as Galen avoucheth) that the humours should not retain the substances and the qualities, which the meat had, before such time as it was eaten. Then it being true, that the male sex consisteth in this, that the seed be hot and dry at the time of his forming, for certain it behoveth parents to use meats hot and dry, that they may engender a male child. I grant well, how in this kind of begetting, there befalleth a great peril: for the seed being hot and dry, we have often heretofore affirmed, it followeth of force, that there be borne a man, malicious, wily, cavilling, and addicted to many vices and evils, and such persons as these (unless they be straightly kerbed) bring great danger to the common wealth. Therefore it were better, that they should not be gotten at all: but for all this there will not want parents, who will say, Let me have a boy, and let him be a these and spare not, for the iniquity of a man is more allowable, than the well-doing of a woman. Howbeit this may find an easy remedy, by using temperate meats, which shall partake but meanly of hot and dry, or by way of preparation, seasoning the same with some spice. Such (saith Galen) are Hens, Partridges, Turtles, Doves, Thrushes, Blackbirds, and Goats, which (by Hypocrates) must be eaten roasted, to heat and dry the seed.  
The bread with which the same is eaten, should be white, of the finest meal, seasoned with Salt and Annis seed: for the brown is cold and moist (as we will prove hereafter) and very damageable to the wit. Let the drink be White wine, watered in such proportion, as the stomach may allow thereof: and the water with which it is tempered, should be very fresh and pure.  
The second diligence which we spoke of, is, to eat these meats in so moderate quantity, as the stomach may overcome them: for albeit the meat be hot and dry of his proper nature, yet the same becometh cold and moist, if the natural heat cannot digest it: Therefore though the parents eat honey, and drink White-wine, these meats, by this means will turn to cold seed, and a female child be brought forth. For this occasion, the greater part of great and rich personages, are afflicted by having more daughters than meaner folk: for they eat and drink that which their stomach cannot digest: and albeit their meat be hot and dry, sauced with Sugar, Spices, and Honey: yet through their great quantity, then wax raw, and cannot be digested. But the rawness which most endammageth generation, is that of Wine: for this liquor, in being so vaporous and subtle, occasioneth, that the other meats together therewith pass to the seed vessels raw, and that the seed falsely provoketh a man, ere it be digested and seasoned.  
Whereon, Plato commendeth a law, enacted in the Carthaginean Commonwealth, which forbade the married couple, that they should not taste of any Wine that day, when they meant to perform the rights of the marriage bed, as well ware, that this liquor always bred much hurt and damage to the child's bodily health, and might yield occasion that he should prove vicious and of ill conditions. Notwithstanding, if the same be moderately taken, so good seed is not engendered of any meat (for the end which we seek after) as of white wine: and especially, to give wit and ability, which is that whereto we pretend. The 3 diligence which we spoke of, was, to use exercise somewhat more than meanly: for this fretteth and consumeth the excessive moisture of the seed, and heateth & drieth the same. By this means a man becometh most fruitful and able for generation: and contrariwise to give ourselves to our ease, and not to exercise the body, is one of the things which breedeth most coldness & moisture in the seed. Therefore rich and dainty persons, are less charged with children, than the poor who take pains. Whence Hypocrates recounteth, that the principal persons of Scythia were very effeminate, womanish, delicious, and inclined to do women's services; as to sweep, to rub, & to bake: and by this means were impotent for generation. And if they begot any male child, he proved either an Eunuch, or an Hermaphrodite. Whereat, they shaming, & greatly aggrieved, determined to make sacrifices to their God, and to offer him many gifts; beseeching him not to entreat them after that manner, but to yield them some remedy for the defect, seeing it lay in his power so to do. But Hypocrates laughed them to scorn, saying, That none effect betideth, which seems not miraculous and divine, if after that sort they fall into consideration thereof: for reducing which soever of them to his natural causes, at last we come to end in God, by whose virtue all the agents of the world do work. But there are some effects, which must be imputed to God immediately, (as are those which come beside the order of nature) and others by the way of means, reckoning first as a mean, the causes which are ordained to that end. The country which the Scythians inhabited (saith Hypocrates) is seated under the North, a region moist and cold beyond measure, where, through abundance of clouds, it seems a miracle if you see the sun. The rich men sit ever on horseback, neveruse any exercise, eat and drink more than their natural heat can consume; all which things make the seed cold and moist. And for this cause they beget many females: and if any male were borne, they proved of the condition which we have specified. Know you (said Hypocrates to them) that the remedy hereof consisteth, not in sacrificing to God, neither in doing aught like that; but it behoveth withal, that you walk on foot, eat little, and drink less, and not so wholly betake yourselves to your pleasures. And that you may the more plainly discern it, look upon the poor people of this country, & your very slaves, who not only make no sacrifices to your God, neither offer him gifts (as wanting the means) but even blaspheme his blessed name, and speak injuriously of him, because he hath placed them in such estate. And yet (though so lewd and sacrilegious) they are very able for procreation, & the most part of their children, prove males, & strong; not cockneys, not Eunuches, not Hermafrodites, as do those of yours. And the cause is, for that they eat little, & use much exercise, neither keep themselves always on horseback, like their masters. By which occasion, they make their seed hot & dry, and therethrough engender males and not females. This point of Philosophy was not understood by Pharaoh, nor by his council seeing that he said in this manner; Come, let us keep them down with oppression, that they may not multiply, nor join with our enemy, if war be raised against us. And the remedy which he used, to hinder that the people of Israel should not increase so fast, or at least that so many male children might not be borne (which he most feared) was to keep them under with much toil of body, and to cause them for to eat leeks, garlic, and onions, which remedy took but a bad effect, as the holy scripture expresseth: for the harder he held them oppressed, the more did they increase and multiply. Yet he making reckoning, that this was the surest way he could follow, doubled this their affliction of body. Which prevailed so little, as if to quench a great fire, he should throw thereinto much oil or grease: but if he or any of his counsellors, had been seen in this point of natural Philosophy, he should have given them barley bread, lettuce, melons, cucumbers, & citrons to eat, and have kept them well fed and well filled with drink, and not have suffered them to take any pain. For by this means, their seed would have become cold and moist, & thereof more women than men been begotten; and in short time their life have been abridged. But feeding them with much flesh boiled with garlic, with leeks, & with onions, and tasking them to work so hard, he caused their seed to wax hot and dry, by which two qualities, they were the more incited to procreation, and everbred issue male. For confirmation of this verity, Aristotle propoundeth a problem, which saith, What is the cause, that those who labour much, and such as are subject to the fever Ectic, suffer many pollutions in their sleep? whereto (verily) he witted not to shape an answer: for he telleth many things, but none of them hit the truth. The right reason hereof is, that the toil of the body, and the Ectic fever, do heat and dry the seed; and these two qualities, make the same tart & pricking; and for that in sleep all the natural powers are fortified, this betideth which the problem speaketh of. How fruitful and pricking the hot and dry seed is, Galen noteth in these words. The same is most fruitful, and soon inciteth the creature to copulation, and is lecherous and prone to lust, The fourth condition was, not to accompany in the act of generation, until the seed were settled, concocted and duly seasoned: for though the three former diligences have gone before, yet we cannot thereby know whether it have attained that perfection which it ought to have. Principally it behoveth, for 7 or 8 days before, to use the meats which we have prescribed, to the end the cod may have time to consume in their nourishment, the seed which all that time was engendered of the other meats, and that this which we thus go describing may succeed.  
The like diligence is to be used touching man's seed, that the same may be fruitful and apt for issue, as the gardeners do with the seeds which they will preserve: for they attend till they ripen, and cleanse, and wax dry: for if they pluck them from the stalk, before they are deeply seasoned, and arrived to the point which is requisite, though they lie in the ground a whole year, they will not grow at all. For this reason I have noted, that in places where much carnal copulation is used, there is less store of children, than where people are more inclined to continency. And common harlots never conceive, because they stay not till the seed be digested and ripened.  
It behoveth therefore to abide for some days, that the seed may settle, concoct, and ripen, and be duly seasoned: for by this means, is hot and dry, and the good substance which it had lost, the better recovered. But how shall we know the seed to be such, as is requisite it should be, seeing the matter is of so great importance? This may easily be known, if certain days have passed since the man companied with his wife, and by his continual incitement, and great desire of copulation; all which springeth, for that the seed is grown fruitful and apt for procreation. The fifth condition was, that a man should meddle with his wife in the carnal act, six or seven days before she have her natural course: for that the child straightways standeth in need of much food to nourish it. And the reason hereof is, that the hot and dry of his temperature, spendeth and consumeth not only the good blood of the mother, but also the excrements. Wherethrough Hypocrates said, that the woman conceived of a male, is well coloured and fair. Which groweth, because the infant, through his much heat, consumeth all those excrements, which are wont to disfigure the face, leaving the same as a washed cloth. And for that this is true, it is behoveful, that the infant be supplied with blood for his nourishment. And this experience manifesteth, for it is a miracle that a male child should be engendered save upon the last days of the month. The contrary befalleth, when a woman goeth with a female: for through the much cold and moist of her sex, she eateth little, and yieldeth store of excrements, wherethrough the woman conceived of a girl, is ill favoured, and full of spots, and a thousand sluttishnesses stick unto her; and at the time of her delivery, she must tarry so many more days to purge herself, than if she had brought a man child to the word. On the natural reason whereof, God grounded himself, when he commanded Moses, that the woman, who brought forth a male, should remain in her bed a week, and not enter into the temple until 33 days were expired. And if she were delivered of a female, she should be unclean for the space of two weeks, and not enter into the temple, until after 66 days, in sort, that when the birth is of a female, the time is doubled. Which so falleth out, because in the nine months (during which the child remained in the mother's womb) through the much cold and moist of her temperature, she doubly increased excrements, and the same of very malignant substance and quality, which a male infant would not have done. Therefore Hypocrates holdeth it a matter very perilous, to stop the purgation of a woman, who is delivered of a wench.  
All this is spoken to the purpose, that we must well advise ourselves of the last day of the month, to the end the seed may find sufficient nourishment, wherewith to relieve itself. For if the act of procreation be committed so soon as the purgation is finished, it will not take hold through defect of blood. Whereon it behoveth the parents be done to understand, that if both seeds join not together at one self time, (namely that of the woman and of the man) Galen saith there will ensue no conception, although the seed of the man be never so apt for procreation. And hereof we shall render the reason to another purpose. This is very certain, that all the diligences by us prescribed, must also be performed on the woman's behoof, otherwise, her seed (evil employed) will mar the conception. Therefore it is requisite they attend each to other, so as at one self instant, both their seeds may join together.  
This, at the first coming, importeth very much, for the right cod, and his seed vessel (as Galen affirmeth) is first stirred up, and yieldeth his seed before the left, and if the generation take not effect at the first coming, it is a great hap hazard, but that at the second a female shallbe begotten. These two seeds are known, first by the heat and coldness, then by the quantity of being much or little, and finally by the issuing forth speedily or slowly. The seed of the right cod, cometh forth boiling, and so hot, as it burneth the woman's belly, is not much in quantity, and passeth out in haste: Contrariwise, the seed of the left, taketh his way more temperate, is much in quantity: and for that the same is cold and gross, spendeth longer space in coming forth. The last consideration was, to procure that both the seeds of the husband & the wife, fall into the right side of the womb: for in that place (saith Hypocrates) are males engendered, & females in the left. Galen allegeth the reason hereof, saying; that the right side of the womb is very hot, through the neighbourhood which it holdeth with the liver, with the right side of the rains, and with the right seed vessel: which members, we have affirmed and approved to be very hot. And seeing all the reason of working, that the issue may become male, consisteth in procuring, that at the time of conception it partake much heat, it falleth out certain, that it greatly importeth to bestow the seed in this place. Which the woman shall easily accomplish, by resting on her right side, when the act of generation is ended, with her head down and her heels up: but it behoveth her to keep her bed a day or two, for the womb doth not straightways embrace the seed, but after some hours space.  
The signs whereby a woman may know, whether she be with child or no, are manifest and plain to every one's understanding: for if when she ariseth upon her feet, the seed fall to the ground, it is certain (saith Galen) that she hath not conceived, albeit herein one point requireth consideration, that all the seed is not fruitful or apt for issue: for the one part thereof is very waterish, whose office serveth to make thin the principal seed, to the end it may far through the narrow passages, and this is that which nature sendeth forth, and it resteth, when she hath conceived, with the part apt for issue. It is known by that it is like water, and of like quantity. That a woman rise up straightways on her feet, so soon as the act of generation hath passed, is a matter very perilous. Therefore Aristotle compelleth that she beforehand make evacuation of the excrements, and of her urine, to the end she may have no cause to rise. The second token whereby we may know the same, is, that the next day following, the woman will feel her belly empty, especially about the navel. Which groweth, for that the womb, when it desireth to conceive, becometh very large and stretched out: for verily it suffereth the like swelling up and stiffness, as doth a man's member, and when it fareth thus-wise, the same occupieth much room. But at the point when it conceiveth (saith Hippoorates) suddenly the same draweth together, and maketh as it were a purse to draw the seed unto it, and will not suffer it to go out, and by this means leaveth many empty places, the which women do declare, saying; that they have no tripes left in their belly, as if they were suddenly become lean. Moreover, forthwith they abhor carnal copulation, and their husband's kindness, for the belly hath now got what it sought; but the most certain token (saith Hypocrates) is, when their natural course faileth, & their breasts grow, and when they fall in loathing with mear.   

What diligence is to be used, that children may prove witty and wise.  
§. 4.  
IF we do not first know the cause, whence it proceedeth, that a man of great wit and sufficiency is begotten, it is impossible that the same may be reduced to art: for through conjoining and ordering his principles and causes, we grow to attain this end, and by none other means. The Astrologers hold; that because the child is borne under such an influence of the stars, he cometh to be discreet, witty, of good or ill manners, fortunate, and of those other conditions and properties, which we see & consider every day in men. Which being admitted for true, it would follow a matter of impossibility, to frame the same to any art: for it should be wholly a case of fortune, and no way placed in men's election. The natural Philosophers, as Hypocrates, Plato, Aristotle, and Galen, hold, that a man receiveth the conditions of his soul, at the time of his forming, and not of his birth: for then the stars do superficially alter the child, giving him heat, coldness, moisture, and drought; but not his substance, wherein the whole life relieth, as do the four elements, fire, air, earth, and water, who not only yield to the party composed, heat, cold, moisture, and dryness, but also the substance which may maintain and preserve the same qualities, during all the course of life. Wherethrough, that which most importeth in the engendering of children, is, to procure that the elements whereof they are compounded, may partake the qualities, which are requisite for the wit. For these according to the weight and measure, by which they enter into the composition, must always so endure in the mixture, and not the alterations of heaven. What these elements are, and in what sort they enter into the woman's womb, to form the creature, Galen declareth and affirmeth them to be the same which compound all other natural things: but that the earth cometh lurking in the accustomed meats which we eat, as are flesh, bread, fish, and fruits; the water in the liquors which we drink, The air and fire (he saith) are mingled by order of nature, and enter into the body by way of the pulse and of respiration. Of these four elements, mingled and digested by our natural heat, are made the two necessary principles of the infant's generation, to weet the seed, and the monthly course. But that whereof we must make greatest reckoning for the end which we inquire after, are the accustomable meats whereon we feed: for these shut up the four elements in themselves, and from these the seed fetcheth more corpulency and quality, than from the water which we drink, or the fire and air which we breath in. Whence Galen saith that the parents who would beget wise children, should read three books which he wrote, of the faculty of the alements: for there they should find, with what kinds of meat they may effect the same. And he made no mention of the water, nor of the other elements, as materials, and of like moment. But herein he swerved from reason: for the water altereth the body much more than the air, & much less than the sound meats whereon we feed, And as touching that which concerneth the engendering of the seed, it carrieth as great importance as all the other elements together. The reason is (as Galen himself affirmeth) because the cod draw from the veins (for their nourishment) the wheyish part of the blood, and the greatest part of this whey, which the veins receive, partaketh of the water which we drink. And that the water worketh more alteration in the body, than the air, Aristotle proveth, where he demandeth, what the cause is, that by changing of waters, we breed so great an alteration in our health, whereas if we breathe a contrary air, we perceive it not. And to this he answereth, that water yieldeth nourishment to the body, and so doth not the air. But he had little reason to answer after this manner: for the air also (by Hypocrates opinion) giveth nourishment and substance, aswell as the water. Wherethrough Aristotle devised a better answer, saying; that no place nor country hath his peculiar air; for that which is now in Flanders, when the North wind bloweth, passeth within two or three days into Africa, and that in Africa, by the South is carried into the North; and that which this day is in Jerusalem, the East wind driveth into the West Indies. The which cannot betide in the waters: for they do not all issue out of the same soil, wherethrough every people hath his particular water conformable to the Mine of the earth where it springeth, and whence it runneth. And if a man be used to drink one kind of water, in tasting another, he altereth more than by meat or air. In sort, that the parents who have a will to beget very wise children, must drink waters, delicate, fresh, and of good temperature; otherwise they shall commit error in their procreation. Aristotle saith, that at the time of generation, we must take heed of the south-west wind: for the same is gross, and moisteneth the seed, so as a female and not a male is begotten. But the west wind he highly commendeth, and advanceth it with names and titles very honourable. He calleth the same temperate, fatter of the earth, and saith; that it cometh from the Elysian fields. But albeit it be true that it greatly importeth, to breathe an air very delicate, and of good temperature, and to drink such waters; yet it standeth much more upon to use fine meats appliable to the temperature of the wit: for of these is engendered the blood and the seed, and of the seed the creature. And if the meat be delicate and of good temperature, such is the blood made; and of such blood, such seed; and of such seed, such brain. Now, this member being temperate, and compounded of a substance subtle and delicate, Galen saith, that the wit will be like thereunto: for our reasonable soul, though the same be incorruptible, yet goeth always united with the dispositions of the brain, which being not such as it is requisite they should be, for discoursing and philosophising, a man saith and doth 1000 things, which are very unfitting. The meats then which the parents are to feed on, that they may engender children of great understanding (which is the ordinary wit for Spain) are, first, White bread made of the finest meal, and seasoned with salt: this is cold and dry, and of parts very subtle and delicate. There is another sort made (saith Galen) of reddish grain, which though it nourish much, and make men big limmed, and of great bodily forces; yet for that the same is moist and of gross parts, it breedeth a loss in the understanding. I said, seasoned with salt, because none of all the aliments which a man useth, bettereth so much the understanding, as doth this mineral. It is cold, and of more dryness than any other thing; and if I remember well the sentence of Heraclitus, he said after this manner, A dry brightness, a wisest mind. Then seeing that salt is so dry, and so appropriate to the wit, the scripture had good reason to term it by the name of Prudence and Sapience. Partridges and Francolini have a like substance, and the self temperature with bread of white meal, and Kid, and Muskadel wine. And if parents use these meats (as we have above specified) they shall breed children of great understanding. And if they would have a child of great memory, let them eight or nine days before they betake themselves to the act of generation, eat Trout, Salmon, Lampreys, and Eels, by which meat, they shall make their seed very moist and clammy.  
These two qualities (as I have said before) make the memory easy to receive, and very fast to preserve the figures a long time. By Pigeons, Goats, Garlic, Onions, Leeks, Rapes, Pepper, Vinegar, White-wine, Honey, and all other sorts of spices, the seed is made hot and dry, and of parts very subtle and delicate. The child who is engendered of such meat, shallbe of great imagination, but not of like understanding, by means of the much heat, and he shall want memory through his abundance of dryness. These are wont to be very prejudicial to the common wealth: for the heat inclineth them to many vices and evils, and giveth them a wit and mind, to put the same in execution: howbeit if we do keep them under, the commonwealth shall receive more service by these men's imagination, than by the understanding and memory of the others. Hens, capons, veal, weathers of Spain, are all meats of moderate substance; for they are neither delicate nor gross. I said weathers of Spain: for Galen, without making any distinction, saith, that their flesh is of a gross and noisome substance, which strayeth from reason: for put case that in Italy, (where he wrote) it be the worst of all others; yet in this our country, through the goodness of the pastures, we may reckon the same among the meats of moderate substance. The children who are begotten on such food, shall have a reasonable discourse, a reasonable memory, and a reasonable imagination. Wherethrough they will not be very profoundly seen in the Sciences, nor devise aught of new.  
Of these we have said heretofore, that they are pleasant conceited, and apt, in whom may be imprinted all the rules and considerations of art, clear, obscure, easy, and difficult: but doctrine, argument, answering, doubting, and distinguishing, are matters wherewith their brains can in no sort endure to be cloyed. cows flesh, Manzo, bread of red grain, cheese, olives, vinegar, and water alone, will breed a gross seed, and of faulty temperature, the son engendered upon these, shall have strength like a bull: but withal, be furious and of a beastly wit. Hence it proceedeth, that amongst upland people, it is a miracle to find one quick of capacity, or towardly for learning: they are all borne dull and rude; for that they are begotten on meats of gross and evil substance. The contrary hereof befalleth in Citizens, whose children we find to be endowed with more wit and sufficiency. But if the parents carry in very deed, a will to beget a son, prompt, wise, and of good conditions, let them, six or seven days before their companying, feed on Goat's milk; for this aliment (by the opinion of all physicians) is the best, and most delicate that any man can use; provided that they be sound, and that it answer them in proportion. But Galen saith, it behoveth to eat the same with honey, without which it is dangerous, and easily corrupteth. The reason hereof is, for that the milk, hath no more but three elements in his composition, cheese, whey, and butter. The cheese answereth the earth; the whey, the water; and the butter the air. The fire, which mingleth the other elements, and preserveth them being mingled, issuing out of the teats, is exhaled, for that it is very subtle: but adjoining thereunto a little honey, which is hot and dry, in am of fire, the milk will so partake of all the 4 elements. Which being mingled, and concocted by the operation of our natural heat, make a seed very delicate, and of good temperature. The son thus engendered, shall at leastwise possess a great discourse; and not be deprived of memory and imagination. In that Aristotle wanted this doctrine, he came short to answer a problem, which himself propounded, demanding what the cause is, that the young ones of brute beasts, carry with them (for the most part) the properties and conditions of their sires and dams. And the children of men and women not so? And we find this by experience to be true: for of wise parents, are borne foolish children; and of foolish parents, children very wise; of virtuous parents, lewd children; and of vicious parents, virtuous children; of hard favoured parents, fair children: and of fair parents, foul children: of white parents, brown children: and of brown parents, white and well coloured children. And amongst children of one self father and mother, one proveth simple, and another witty: one foul, and another fair: one of good conditions, and another of bad: one virtuous, and another vicious. Whereas if a mare of a good harrage, be covered with a horse of the like, the colt which is foaled, resembleth them aswell in shape and colour, as in their properties. To this problem, Aristotle shaped a very untowardly answer, saying, that a man is carried away with many imaginations, during the carnal act: and hence it proceedeth that the children prove so divers. But brute beasts, because in time of procreation they are not so distraughted, neither possess so forcible an imagination as man doth, make always their young ones after one self sort, and like to themselves. This answer hath ever hitherto gone for currant amongst the vulgar philosophers: and for confirmation hereof, they allege the history of jacob, which recounteth, that he having placed certain rods, at the watering places of the beasts, the lambs were yeaned party coloured. But little avails it them to handfast holy matters: for this history recounteth a miraculous action, which God performed, therein to hide some sacrament. And the answer made by Aristotle, savoureth of great simplicity. And who so will not yield me credit, let him (at this day) cause some shepherds to try this experiment, and they shall find it to be no natural matter. It is also reported in these our parts, that a lady was delivered of a son, more brown than was due, because a black visage, which was pictured, fell into her imagination. Which I hold for a jest: and if perhaps it be true that she brought such a one to the world, I say that the father who begat him, had the like colour to that figure. And because it may be the better known, how fromshapen this philosophy is, which Aristotle bringeth in, together with those that follow him, it is requisite we hold it for a thing certain, that the work of generation appertaineth to the vegetative soul, and not to the sensitive, or reasonable: for a horse engendereth without the reasona;, and a plant without the sensitive. And if we do but mark a tree laden with fruit, we shall find on the same a greater variety, than in the children of any man. One apple will be green, another red; one little, another great; one round, another ill shaped: one sound, another rotten: one sweet, and another bitter. And if we compare the fruit of this year with that of the last, the one will be very different and contrary to the other: which cannot be attributed to the variety of the imagination, seeing the plants do want this power. The error of Aristotle, is very manifest in his own doctrine: for he saith, that the seed of the man, and not of the woman, is that which maketh the generation: and in the carnal act, the man doth nought else, but scatter his seed without form or figure, as the husbandman soweth his corn in the earth. And as the grain of corn doth not by and by take root, nor formeth a stalk and leaves, until some days been expired: so (saith Galen) the creature is not form all so soon as the man's seed falleth into the woman's womb: but affirmeth that thirty or forty days are requisite, ere the same can be accomplished. And if this be so, what availeth it that the father go imagining of divers things in the carnal act, when as the forming beginneth not until some days after? especially, when the forming is not made by the soul of the father or the mother, but by a third thing which is found in the seed itself. And the same being only vegetative, and no more, is not capable of the imagination, but followeth only the motions of the temperature, and doth nothing else. After my mind, to say that men's children are borne of so divers figures, through the variable imaginations of the parents, is none other, than to avouch, that of grains, some grow big, and some little, because the husbandman (when he sowed them) was distraught into sundry imaginations. Upon this so unsound opinion of Aristotle, some curious heads argue, that the children of the adulterous wife resemble her husband, though they be none of his. And the reason which leadeth them, is manifest: for during the carnal act, the adulterers settle their imagination upon the husband, with fear lest he come and take them napping. And for the same consideration, they conclude that the husband's children resemble the adulterer though they be not his, because the adulterous wife, during the copulation with her husband, always busieth herself in contemplation of the figure of her lover. And those who say, that the other woman brought forth a black son, because she held her imagination fixed on the picture of a black man, must also grant this, which by these quaint brains is inferred: for the whole carrieth one self reason, and is in my conceit a stark leasing, and very mockery, though it be grounded on the opinion of Aristotle. Hypocrates answered this problem better, when he said, that the Scythians are all alike conditioned, and shaped in visage, and rendereth the reason of this resemblance to be, for that they all fed of one self meat, and drank of one self water, went appareled after one self manner, and kept one self order in all things. For the same cause, the brute beasts engender young ones after their particular resemblance, because they always use the same food, and have therethrough an uniform seed. But contrariwise man, because he eateth divers meats, every day maketh a different seed aswell in substance, as in temperature. The which the natural Philosophers do approve, in answering to a problem, that saith, What is the cause, that the excrements of brute beasts have not so unpleasant a verdure, as those of mankind? And they affirm, that brute beasts use always the self meats, and much exercise there withal: but a man eateth so much meat, and of so divers substance, as he cannot come away with them, and so they grow to corrupt. Man's seed, and that of beasts, hold one self reason and consideration, for that they are both of them excrements of a third concoction. As touching the variety of meats which man useth, it cannot be denied, but must be granted, that of every aliment there is made a different and particular seed. Where it falleth out apparent, that the day, on which a man eateth beef or bloudings he maketh a gross seed, & of bad temperature; and therefore, the son begotten thereof, shallbe disfigured, foolish, black, and ill conditioned. And if he eat the carcase of a capon, or of a hen, his seed shall be white, delicate, and of good temperature. Wherethrough the son so engendered, shallbe fair, wise, and very gentle conditioned. From hence I collect, that there is no child born, who partaketh not of the qualities and temperature of that meat, which his parents fed upon a day before he was begotten. And if any would know of what meat he was form, let him but consider, with what meat his stomach hath most familiarity, (and without all doubt) that it was. Moreover, the natural philosophers demand what the cause is, that the children of the wisest men, do ordinarily prove blockish and void of capacity? To which problem they answer very fond, saying; that wise men are very honest and shamefast, and therefore in companying with their wives, do abstain from some diligences, necessary for effecting that the child prove of that perfection which is requisite. And they confirm this, by example of such parents, as are foolish and ignorant, who, because they employ all their force and diligence at the time of generation, their children do all prove wise and witty; but this answer tokeneth they are slenderly seen in natural Philosophy. True it is, that for rendering an answer convenient, it behoveth first to presuppose and prove certain points; one of which purporteth, that the reasonable faculty, is contrary to the wrathful and the concupiscible, in sort, that if a man be very wise, he cannot beverie courageous, of much bodily forces, a great feeder, nor very able for procreation: for the natural dispositions, which are requisite, to the end the reasonable soul may perform his operations, carry a contrariety to those, which are necessary for the wrathful and the concupiscible. Aristotle saith, (and it is true) that hardiness and natural courage consist in heat: and Prudence and Sapience in cold and dry. Whence we see by plain experience, that the valientest persons are void of reason, spare of speech, impatient to be jested withal, and very soon ashamed; for remedy whereof, they straightways set hand on their sword, as not weeting what other answer to make. But men endowed with wit have many reasons and quick answers and quips, with which they entertain the time, that they may not come to blows. Of such a manner of wit, Sallust noteth that Cicero was, telling him, that he had much tongue, and feet very light: wherein he had reason, for so great a wisdom, in matters of arms, could not end but in cowardice. And hence took a certain nipping proverb his original, which saith; He is as valiant as Cicero, and as wise as Hector. Namely, when we will note a man to be a buzzard, and a cow-baby. No less doth the natural faculty gainsay the understanding, for if a man possess great bodily forces, he cannot enjoy a good wit; and the reason is, for that the force of the arms and the legs, springeth from having a brain hard and earthly, and though it be true, that by reason of the cold and dry of the earth, he might partake a good understanding, yet in that it hath his composition of a gross substance, it ruinateth and endammageth the same. For through his coldness the courage and hardiness are quenched: wherethrough, we have seen some men of great forces to be very cowards. The contrariety which the vegetative soul hath with the reasonable, is most manifest of all others, for his operations, namely; to nourish, and engender, are better performed with heat and moisture, than with the contrary qualities, Which experience clearly manifesteth, considering how powerful the same is in the age of childhood, and how weak and remiss in old age. Again, in boy's estate the reasonable soul cannot use his operations; whereas in old age, which is utterly void of heat and moisture, it performeth them with great effect. In sort, that by how much the more a man is enabled for procreation, and for digestion of food, so much he loseth of his reasonable faculty. To this alludeth that which Plato affirmeth, that there is no humour in a man, which so much disturbeth the reasonable faculty, as abundance of seed, only (saith he) the same yieldeth help to the art of versifying. Which we behold to be confirmed by daily experience: for when a man beginneth to entreat of amorous matters, suddenly he becometh a Poet, And if before he were greasy and loutish, forthwith he takes it at heart, to have a wrinkle in his pump, or a mote on his cape. And the reason is, because these works appertain to the imagination, which increaseth and lifteth itself up from this point, through the much heat, occasioned in him by this amorous passion. And that love is an hot alteration, showeth apparently, through the courage and hardiness, which it planteth in the lover, from whom the same also reaveth all desire of meat, and will not suffer him to sleep. If the commonwealth bore an eye to these tokens, she would banish from public studies, lusty scholars, and great fighters, enamoured persons, Poets, and those who are very neat and curious in their apparel: for they are not furnished with wit or ability for any sort of study. Out of this rule, Aristotle excepteth the melancholic by adustion, whose seed (though fruitful) reaveth not the capacity. Finally, all the faculties which govern man, if they be very powerful, set the reasonable soul in a garboil. Hence it proceeds, that if a man be very wise, he proveth a coward, of small strength of body, a spare feeder, and not very able for procreation. And this is occasioned by the qualities which make him wise, namely; coldness and dryness. And these self, weaken the other powers, as appeareth in old men, who (besides their counsel and wisdom) are good for nothing else. This doctrine thus presupposed, Galen holdeth opinion, that to the end the engendering of whatsoever creature may take his perfect effect, two seeds are necessary, one, which must be the agent and former; and another which must serve for nourishment; for a matter so delicate as generation, cannot straightways overcome a meat so gross, as is the blood, until the effect be greater. And that the seed is the right aliment of the seed members, Hypocrates, Plato, and Galen do all accord: for by their opinion, if the blood be not converted into seed, it is impossible, that the sinews, the veins, & the arteries can be maintained. wherethrough Galen affirmed, the difference between the veins and the cod to be, that the cod do speedily make much seed, and the veins a little, and in long space of time: In sort, that nature provided for the same, an aliment so like, which with light alteration, & without making any excrements, might maintain the other seed. And this could not be effected, if the nourishment thereof had been made of the blood. The self provision (saith Galen) was made by nature, in the engendering of mankind, as in the forming of a chick, and such other birds, as come of eggs. In which we see there are two substances, one of the white, and another of the yolk, of one of which, the chick is made, and by the other maintained all the time whiles the forming endureth. For the same reason are two seeds necessary in the generation of the man, one, of which the creature may be made, and the other by which it may be maintained whilst the forming endureth. But Hypocrates mentioneth one thing worthy of great consideration, namely; that it is not resolved by nature, which of the two seeds shallbe the agent and formour, & which shall serve for aliment. For many times, the seed of the woman is of greater efficacy than that of the man, and when this betideth, she maketh the generation, and that of the husband serveth for aliment. Otherwhiles, that of the husband is more mighty, and that of the wife doth nought else than nourish. This doctrine was not considered by Aristotle, who could not understand, whereto the woman's seed served, and therefore uttered a thousand follies, and that the same was but a little water, without virtue, or force for generation. Which being granted, it would follow impossible, that a woman should ever covet the conversation of man, or consent thereunto, but would shun the carnal act, as being herself so honest, and the work so unclean and filthy; wherethrough, in short space mankind would decay, and the world rest deprived of the fairest creature, that ever nature form. To this purpose Aristotle demandeth, what the cause is, that fleshly copulation should be an action of the greatest pleasure, that nature ever ordained for the solace of living things. To which problem he answereth, that nature having so desirously procured the perpetuity of mankind, did therefore place so great a delight in this work, to the end, that they being moved by such interest, might gladly apply themselves to the act of generation; and if these incitements were wanting, no woman or man would condescend to the bands of marriage, inasmuch as the woman should reap none other benefit, than to bear a burden in her belly the space of nine months, with so great travail and sorrows, and at the time of her childbirth, to undergo the hazard of foregoing her life. So would it be necessary, that the commonwealth should through fear enforce women to marry, to the end mankind might not come to nothing. But because nature doth her things with pleasing, she gave to a woman, all the instruments necessary for making a seed, inciting, and apt for issue, whereby she might desire a man, and take pleasure in his conversation. But if it were of that quality which Aristotle expresseth, she would rather fly and abhor him, than ever love him. This self Galen proveth, alleging an example of the brute beasts, wherethrough he saith, that if a Sow be speyed, she never desireth the Boar, nor will consent that he approach unto her.  
The like we do evidently see in a woman, whose temperature partaketh more of coldness than is requisite: for if we tell her that she must be married, there is no word which soundeth worse in her ear. And the like befalleth to a cold man, for he wanteth the fruitful seed. Moreover, if a woman's seed were of that manner which Aristotle mentioneth, it could be no proper aliment: for to attain the last qualities of actual nutriment, a total seed is necessary, whereby it may be nourished. wherethrough, if the same come not to be concocted & semblable, it cannot perform this point: for woman's seed wanteth the instruments and places, as are the stomach, the liver, and the cod, where it may be concocted. Therefore nature provided, that in the engendering of a creature, two seeds should concur; which being mingled, the mightier should make the forming and the other serve for nourishment. And this is seen evidently so to be: for if a blackamoor beget a white woman with child, & a white man a negro woman, of both these unions, will be borne a creature, partaking of either quality. Out of this doctrine I gather that to be true, which many authentical histories affirm, that a dog carnally companying with a woman, made her to conceive; and the like did a bear with another woman, whom he found alone in the fields. And likewise, an ape had two young ones by another. We read also of one, who walking for recreation alongst a rivers side, a fish came out of the water, and begat her with child. The matter herein of most difficulty for the vulgar to conceive, is, how it may be, that these women should bring forth perfect men, and partakers of the use of reason, seeing the parents who engendered them, were brute beasts. To this I answer, that the seed of every of these women, was the agent & former of the creature, as the greaterin force, whence it figured the same, with his accidents of man's shape. The seed of the brute beast (as not equal in strength) served for aliment, & for nothing else. And that the seed of these unreasonable beasts, might yield nourishment to man's seed, is a matter easy to be conceived. For if any of these women had eaten a piece of bears flesh, or of a dog, boiled or roasted, she should have received nourishment thereout, though not so good as if she had eaten mutton or partridges. The like befalleth to man's seed, that his true nourishment (in the forming of the creature) is another man's seed, but if this be wanting, the seed of some brute beast may supply the room: but a thing which these histories specify, is, that children borne of such copulations give token in their manners and conditions, that their engendering was not natural.  
Out of the things already rehearsed (though we have somewhat lingered by the way therein) we may now gather the answer to that principal problem, vz: that wise men's children, are well-near always form of their mother's seed: for that of the fathers (for the reasons already alleged) is not fruitful for generation, and in engendering, serveth only for aliment. And the man who is shaped of the woman's seed, cannot be witty, nor partake ability through the much cold and moist of that sex. Whence it becometh manifest, that when the child proveth discreet and prompt, the same yieldeth an infallible token, that he was form of his father's seed. And if he show blockish and untoward, we infer, that he was form of the seed of his mother. And hereto did the wiseman allude, when he said, The wise son rejoiceth the father, but a foolish child is a grief to his mother. It may also come to pass upon some occasion, that the seed of a woman may be the agent and form-giver, & that of the woman, serve for nourishment, but the son so begotten will prove of slender capacity: for put case, that cold and dry be two qualities, whereof the understanding hath need: yet it behoveth, that they hold a certain quantity and measure, which once exceeded, they do rather hurt than good. Even as we see men very aged, that by occasion of overmuch cold and dry, we find them become children a new, and utter many follies. Let us then presuppose, that to some old man, there yet remain ten years of life, with convenient cold and dry to discourse, in such sort, as these being expired, he shall then grow a babe again.  
If of such a ones seed a son be engendered, he shall till ten years age, make show of great sufficiency: for that till then, he enjoyeth the convenient cold and drought of his father; but at eleven years old, he will suddenly quail away, for that he hath outpassed the point, which to these two qualities was behoveful. Which we see confirmed by daily experience in children begotten in old age, who in their childhood are very advised, and afterwards in man's state, prove very dullards, & short of life. And this groweth, because they were made of a seed cold and dry, which had already out run the one half of his race. And if the father be wise in the works of the imagination, and by means of his much heat & dryness, take to wife a woman cold and moist in the third degree, the son born of such an accouplement, shallbe most untoward, if he be form of his father's seed, for that he made abode in a belly so cold and moist, & was maintained by a blood so distemperate. The contrary betideth, when the father is untoward, whose seed hath ordinarily heat and excessive moisture. The son so engendered, shallbe dull till 15 years of age, for that he drew part of his father's superfluous moisture. But the course of that age once spent, it giveth firmness, in as much as the foolish man's seed, is more temperate and less moist. It aideth likewise the wit, to continue nine months space in a belly of so little coldness and moisture, as is that of a woman cold and moist in the first degree, where it endured hunger and want. All this ordinarily befalleth, for the reasons by us specified: but there is found a certain sort of men, whose genitories are endowed with such force and vigour, as they utterly spoil the aliments of their good qualities, and convert them into their evil and gross substance. Therefore all the children whom they beget, (though they have eaten delicate meats) shall prove rude and dullards. Others contrariwise, using gross meats, and of evil temperature, are so mighty in overcoming them, that though they eat or pork, yet they make children of very delicate wit. Whence it proveth certain, that there are lineages of foolish men, & races of wise men: and others, who of ordinary are borne blunt, and void of judgement.  
Some doubts are encountered, by those who seek to pierce into the bottom of this matter, whose answer (in the doctrine forepast) is very easy. The first is, whence it springeth, that bastard children accustomably resemble their fathers, and of a 100 lawful, 90 bear the figure and conditions of the mother. The second, why bastard children prove ordinarily deliver, courageous, and very advised. The third, what the cause is, that if a common strumpet conceive, she never looseth her burden, though she take venomous drenches to destroy the same, or be let much blood, whereas if a married woman be with child by her husband upon every light occasion, the same miscarrieth. To the first, Plato answereth, saying, that no man is nought of his own proper and agreeable will, unless he be first incited by the viciousness of his temperature. And he gives us an example in lecherous men; who, for that they are stored with plentiful and fruitful seed, suffer great illusions, and many cumbers; and therefore (molested by that passion) to drive the same from them, do marry wives. Of such Galen saith, that they have the instruments of generation very hot and dry: and for this cause breed seed very pricking & apt for procreation. A man then, who goeth seeking a woman not his own, is replenished with this fruitful, digested, and well seasoned seed, Whence it followeth of force, that he make the generation: for where both are equal, the man's seed carrieth the greatest efficacy; and if the son be shaped of the seed of such a father, it ensueth of necessity that he resemble him. The contrary betideth in lawful children; who, for that married men have their wives ever couched by their sides, never take regard to ripen the seed, or to make it apt for procreation, but rather (upon every light enticement) yield the same from them, using great violence and stirring; whereas women, abiding quiet, during the carnal act, their seed vessels yield not their seed, save when it is well concoct and seasoned. Therefore married women do always make the engendering, and their husband's seed serveth for aliment. But sometimes it comes to pass, that both the seeds are matched in equal perfection, and combat in such sort, as both the one and the other take effect in the forming, and so is a child shaped, who resembleth neither father nor mother. Another time it seemeth that they agree upon the matter, & part the likeness between them: the seed of the father maketh the nostrils and the eyes; and that of the mother, the mouth and the forehead. And which carrieth most marvel, it hath so fallen out, that the son hath taken one ear of his father, and another of his mother, and so the like in his eyes. But if the father's seed do altogether prevail, the child retaineth his nature and his conditions: and when the seed of the mother swayeth most, the like reason taketh effect. Therefore, the father who coveteth, that his child may be made of his own seed, aught to withdraw himself for some days from his wife, and stay till all his seed be concocted and ripened; and than it will fall out certain that the forming shall proceed from him, and the wife's seed shall serve for nourishment. The second doubt (by means of that we have said already) beareth little difficulty: for bastard children are ordinarily made of seed hot and dry: and from this temperature (as we have oftentimes proved heretofore) spring courage, bravery, and a good imagination, whereto this wisdom of the world appertaineth. And because the seed is digested and well seasoned, nature effecteth what she likes best, and pourtraieth those children as with a pencil. To the third doubt may be answered, that the conceiving of lewd women, is most commonly wrought by the man's seed: and because the same is dry, and very apt for issue, it fasteneth itself in the woman with very strong roots; but the child breeding of married women, being wrought by their own seed, occasioneth, that the creature easily unlooseth, because the same was moist and watery, or as Hypocrates saith, full of mustiness.   

What diligences are to be used, for preserving the children's wit after they are form.  
§. 5.  
THe matter whereof man is compounded, proveth a thing so alterable, and so subject to corruption, that at the instant when he beginneth to be shaped, he like wise beginneth to be untwined, and to alter, and therein can find no remedy. For it was said, so soon as we are born, we fail to be. wherethrough nature provided, that in man's body, there should be 4 natural faculties, attractive, retentive, concoctive, & expulsive. The which concocting & altering the aliments which we eat, return to repair the substance that was lost, each succeeding in his place. By this we understand, that it little availeth to have engendered a child of delicate seed, if we make no reckoning of the meats, which afterwards we feed upon. For the creation being finished, there remaineth not for the creature, any part of the substance whereof it was first composed. True it is, that the first seed, if the same be well concocted and seasoned, possesseth such force, that digesting & altering the meats, it maketh them (though they be bad and gross) to turn to his good temperature and substance, but we may so far forth use contrary meats, as the creature shall lose those good qualities, which it received from the seed whereof it was made: therefore Plato said, that one of the things which most brought man's wit, and his manners to ruin, was his evil bringing up in diet. For which cause he counseled that we should give unto children, meats and drinks, delicate, and of good temperature, to the end, that when they grow big, they may know how to abandon the evil, & to embrace the good. The reason hereof is very clear. For if at the beginning the brain was made of delicate seed, and that this member goeth every day impairing and consuming, and must be repaired with the meats which we eat, it is certain, if these being gross and of evil temperature, that using them many days together, the brain will become of the same nature. Therefore it sufficeth not, that the child be borne of good seed, but also it behoveth that the meat which he eateth, after he is form and borne, be endowed with the same qualities. What these be, it carrieth no great difficulty to manifest, if you presuppose, that the Greeks' were the most discreet men of the world, and that, inquiring after aliments and food, to make their children witty and wise, they found the best and most appropriate. For if the subtle and delicate wit, consist in causing that the brain be compounded of parts subtle, and of good temperature, that meat which above all others partaketh these two qualities, shallbe the same which it behoveth us to use, for obtaining our end. Galen, and all the Greek Physicians, say that Goat's milk boiled with honey, is the best meat which any man can eat: for besides that it hath a moderate substance, therein the heat exceedeth not the cold, nor the moist the dry. Therefore we said (some few leaves past) that the parents, whose will earnestly leadeth them, to have a child, wise, prompt, and of good conditions, must eat much Goat's milk boiled with honey, 7 or 8 days before the copulationut-Balbeit this aliment is so good (as Galen speaketh of) yet it falleth out a matter of importance for the wit, that the meat consist of moderate substance, and of subtle parts. For how much the finer the matter becometh in the nourishment of the brain, so much the more is the wit sharpened. For which cause; the Greeks' drew-out of the milk, cheese and whey (which are the two gross aliments of his composition) and left the butter, which in nature resembleth the air. This they gave in food to their children, mingled with honey, with intention to make them witty and wise. And that this is the truth, is plainly seen by that which Homer recounteth. Besides this meat, children did eat cracknels, of white bread, of very delicate water, with honey and a little salt: but in steed of vinegar (for that the same is very noisome and damageable to the understanding) they shall add thereunto, butter of Goats-milk, whose temperature & substance, is appropriate for the wit. But in this regiment grows an inconvenience very great, namely; that children using so delicate meats, shall not possess sufficient strength to resist the injuries of the air: neither can defend themselves from other occasions, which are wont to breed maladies. So by making them become wise, they will fall out to be unhealthful, and live a small time. This difficulty demandeth, in what sort children may be brought up, witty and wise, and yet the matter so handled, as it may no way gainsay their healthfulness. Which shall easily be effected, if the parents dare to put in practice, some rules and precepts which I will prescribe. And because dainty people are deceived in bringing up their children, and they treat still of this matter: I will first assign them the cause why their children, though they have Schoolmasters and tutors, and themselves take such pains at their book, yet they come away so meanly with the sciences, as also in what sort they may remedy this, without that they abridge their life, or hazard their health. Eight things (saith Hypocrates) make man's flesh moist & fat. The 1 to be merry, and to live at hearts ease; the 2 to sleep much: the 3 to lie in a soft bed: the 4 to far well: the fifth, to be well appareled and furnished: the sixth, to ride always on horseback: the seventh, to have our will: the eighth to be occupied in plays and pastimes, and in things which yield contentment and pleasure. All which is a verity so manifest, as if Hypocrates had not affirmed it, none durst deny the same. Only we may doubt, whether delicious people do always observe this manner of life; but if it be true that they do so, we may well conclude, that their seed is very moist, and that the children which they beget, will of necessity over-abound in superfluous moisture, which it behoveth first to be consumed: for this quality sendeth to ruin the operations of the reasonable soul: And moreover the Physicians say, that it maketh them to live a short space and unhealthful. By this it should seem, that a good wit, and a sound bodily health require one self quality, Namely drought; wherethrough, the precepts and rules which we are to lay down for making children wise, will serve likewise to yield them much health, and long life. It behoveth them, (so soon as a child is borne of delicious parents) inasmuch as their constitution consisteth of more cold and moist than is convenient for childhood, to wash him with salt hot water; which (by the opinion of all physicians) soaketh up and drieth the flesh, & giveth soundness to the sinews, and maketh the child strong and manly, and (by consuming the overmuch moisture of his brain) enableth him with wit, and freeth-him from many deadly infirmities. Contrariwise, the bath being of water fresh and hot, in that the same moisteneth the flesh (saith Hypocrates) it breedeth five annoyances; Namely, effeminating of the flesh, weakness of sinews, dullness of spirits, fluxes of blood, and baseness of stomach. But if the child issue out of his mother's belly with excessive dryness, it is requisite to wash the same with hot fresh water. Therefore Hypocrates said, children are to be washed a long time with hot water, to the end they may receive the less annoyance by the cramp, and that they may grow and be well coloured: but (for certain) this must be understood of those who come forth dry out of their mother's belly; in whom it behoveth to amend their evil temperature, by applying unto them contrary qualities. The Almains (saith Galen) have a custom, to wash their children in a river, so soon as they are born; them seeming, that as the iron which cometh burning hot out of the forge, is made the stronger, if it be dipped in cold water: so when the hot child is taken out of the mother's womb, it yieldeth him of greater force and vigour, if he be washed in fresh water. This thing is condemned by Galen for a beastly practice, and that with great reason: for put case, that by this way, the skin is hardened and closed, and not easy to be altered by the injuries of the air, yet will it rest offended by the excrements which are engendered in the body, for that the same is not of force, nor open so as they may be exhaled and pass forth. But the best and safest remedy is, to wash the children, who have superfluous moisture, with hot salt water: for their excessive moisture consuming, they are the nearer to health, and the way through the skin, being stopped in them, they cannot receive annoyance by any occasion. Neither are the inward excrements therefore so shut up, that there are not ways left open for them, where they may come out. And nature is so forcible, that if they have taken from her a common way, she will seek out another to serve her turn. And when all others fail, she can skill to make new ways, wherethrough to send out what doth her damage. Wherhfore of two extremes, it is more available for health, to have a skin hard and somewhat close, than thin and open.  
The second thing requisite to be performed when the child shallbe born, is, that we make him acquainted with the winds, and with change of air, & not keep him still locked up in a chamber: for else it will become weak, womanish, peevish, of feeble strength, and within three or four days, give up the ghost. Nothing (saith Hypocrates) so much weakeneth the flesh, as to abide still in warm places, and to keep ourselves from heat and cold. Neither is there a better remedy for healthful living, than to accustom our body to all winds, hot, cold, moist, and dry. Wherethrough Aristotle inquireth, what the cause is, that such as live in the Galleys are more healthy, & better coloured, than those who inhabit a plashy soil. And this difficulty groweth greater, considering the hard life which they lead, sleeping in their clothes, in the open air, against the sun, in the cold, & the water, & faring withal so coarsely. The like may be demanded, as touching shepherds, who of all other men enjoy the soundest health, & it springeth, because they have made a league with all the several qualities of the air, and their nature dismayeth at nothing. Contrariwise, we plainly see, that if a man give himself to live deliciously, and to beware that the sun, the cold, the evening, nor the wind offend him, within 3 days he shallbe dispatched with a post letter to another world. Therefore it may well be said, he that loveth his life in this world, shall lose it: for there is no man that can preserve himself from the alteration of the air; therefore it is better to accustom himself to every thing, to the end a man may live careless, & not in suspense.  
The error of the vulgar consisteth, in thinking that the babe is borne so tender and delicate, as he cannot endure to issue forth of the mother's womb (where it was so warm) into a region of the air so cold, without receiving much damage. And verily they are deceived: for those of Almain (a region so cold) used to dip their children so hot in the river: and though this were a beastly act, yet the same did them no hurt, nor death's harm.  
The third point convenient to be accomplished, is, to seek out a young nurse of temperature hot & dry: or (after our doctrine) cold and moist in the first degree; enured to hardness & want, to lie on the bare ground, to eat little, and to go poorly clad, in wet, drought and heat; such a one will yield a firm milk, as acquainted with the alterations of the air; and the child being brought up by her, for some good space, will grow to possess a great firmness. And if she be discreet and advised, the same will also be of much avail for his wit: for the milk of such a one, is very clean, hot, and dry: with which two qualities, the much cold and moist will be corrected, which the infant brought from his mother's womb. How greatly it importeth for the strength of the creature, that it suck a milk well exercised, is apparently proved in horses, who being foaled by mares, toiled in ploughing and harrowing, prove great coursers, and will abide much hardness. And if the dams run up and down idly in the pastures after the first career, they are not able to stand on their feet. The order then which should be held with the nurse, is, to take her into house, some four or five months before the childbirth, and to give her the same meats to eat, whereon the mother feedeth, that she may have time to consume the blood and bad humours, which she had gathered by harmful meats, that she used tofore, and to the end the child (so soon as it is born) may suck the like milk unto that, which relieved it in the mother's bellle, or made at least of the same meats.  
The fourth is, not to accustom the child to sleep in a soft bed, nor to keep him overwarme appareled: or give him too much mear. For these three things (saith Hypocrates) scarsen and dry up the flesh, and their contraries, fatten and enlarge the same. And in so doing, the child shall grow of great wit, and of long life, by reason of this dryness: and by the contraries, he will prove fair, fat, full of blood, & bockish; which habit, Hypocrates called Wrastler-like, and holdeth it for very perilous. With this self receipt and order of life, was the wisest man brought up, that ever the world had; To weet our saviour Christ, in that he was man, saving (for that he was born out of Nazareth) perhaps his mother had no salt water at hand, where with she might wash him but this was a custom of the jews, and of all Asia beside; brought in by some skilful Physicians, for the good of infants, wherethrough the Prophet saith, And when thou wert borne, at thy birth day thy navel string was not cut off: neither wert thou for thy health's sake washed in water, nor seasoned with salt, nor wrapped in swaddling clothes. But as touching the other things, so soon as he was borne, he began to hold friendship with the cold, and the other alterations of the air. His first bed was the earth, his apparel course, as if he would observe Hypocrates receipt. A few days after they went with him into Egypt, a place very hot, where he remained all the time that Herod lived. His mother partaking the like humours, it is certain, that she must yield him a milk well exercised, and acquainted with the alterations of the air. The meat which they gave him, was the same which the Greeks devised, to endow their children with wit and wisdom. This (I have said heretofore) was the butterish part of the milk eaten with honey. Wherefore Esay saith, He shall eat butter & honey, that he may know to eschew evil, and choose the good. By which words is seen, how the Prophet gave us to understand, that albeit he was very God, yet he ought also to be a perfect man: and to attain natural wisdom, he must apply the semblable diligences, as do the other sons of men. Howbeir this seemeth difficult to be conceived, and may be also held a folly, to think that because Christ our redeemer, did eat butter and honey being a child, he should therefore know how to eschew evil, and make choice of good: when he was elder, God being (as he is) of infinite wisdom, and having given him (as he was man) all the science infused, which he could receive after his natural capacity. Therefore it is certain that he knew full as much in his mother's womb, as when he was thirty three years old, without eating either butter or honey, or borrowing the help of any other natural remedies requisite for humane wisdom. But for all this, it is of great importance that the prophet assigned him that self meat, which the Troyans' and Greeks accustomably gave their children, to make them witty and wise, & that he said, To the end he may know to shun evil and choose the good. For understanding, that by means of these aliments, Christ our saviour, got (as he was man) more acquisite knowledge, than he should have possessed if he had used other contrary meats; it behoveth us to expound this particle, (to the end) that we may know what he meant, when he spoke in those terms. We must therefore presuppose, that in Christ our redeemer were two natures, as the very truth is, and the faith so teacheth us; one, divine, as he was God; and another human, compounded of a reasonable soul, & of an elimentall body, so disposed and instrumentalized, as the other children of men. As concerning his first nature, it behoveth not to entreat of the wisdom of our saviour Christ: for it was infinite without increase or diminishment, and without dependence upon aught else, save only in that he was God, and so he was as wise in his mother's womb, as when he was 33 years of age, and so from everlasting. But in that which appertaineth to his second nature, we are to weet, that the soul of Christ, even from the instant when God created it, was blessed, and glorious, even as now it is; and seeing it enjoyed God and his wisdom, it is certain that in him was none ignorance: but he had so much science infused, as his natural capacity would bear: but withal, it is alike certain, that as the glory did not communicate itself unto all the parts of the body, in respect of the redemption of mankind; no more did the wisdom infused, communicate itself; For the brain was not disposed, nor instrumentalized, with the qualities & substance, which are necessary, to the end the soul may with such an instrument, discourse and philosophize: for if you call to mind that which in the beginning of this work we delivered, the graces gratis given, which God bestoweth upon men, do ordinarily require, that the instrument with which they are to be exercised; and the subject whereinto it is to be received, do partake the natural qualities, requisite for every such gift. And the reason is, because that the reasonable soul, is an act of the body, and worketh not without the service of his bodily instruments. The brain of our redeemer Christ, whilst he was a babe, and lately born, had much moisture: for in that age it was behoveful so to be, and a matter natural, and therefore in that it was of such quality, his reasonable soul (naturally) could not discourse nor philosophize with such an instrument. wherethrough, the science infused, passed not to the bodily memory, nor to the imagination, nor the understanding, because these three are instrumental powers (as tofore we have proved) & enjoyed not that perfection, which they were to have; but whilst the brain went drying, by means of time and age: the reasonable soul went also manifesting every day more and more, the infused wisdom which it had, and communicated the same to the bodily powers. Now, besides this supernatural knowledge, he had also another, which is gathered of things that they heard whilst they were children, of that which they saw, of that which they smelled, of that which they tasted, and of that which they touched: and this (for certain) our saviour Christ attained as other men do. And even as for discerning things perfectly, he stood in need of good eyes, and for hearing of sounds, good ears: so also he stood in need of a good brain, to judge the good and the evil. Whence it is manifest, that by eating those delicate meats, his head was daily better instrumentalized, & attained more wisdom. In sort, that if God had taken from him his science infused, thrice in the course of his life (by seeing that which he had purchased) we shall find, that at ten years he knew more than at five, at twenty, more than at ten, and at thirty three, more than at twenty. And that this doctrine is true and catholic, the letter of the Evangelic text proveth, saying; and jesus increased in wisdom and age, and grace, with God, & with men. Of many catholic senses which the holy scripture may receive, I hold that ever better which taketh the letter, than that which reaveth the terms and words of their natural signification. What the qualities are which the brain ought to have, and what the substance, we have already reported, by the opinion of Heraclitus, That dryness maketh the wisest soul. And by Galens' mind we proved, That when the brain is compounded of a substance very delicate, it maketh the wit to be subtle. Christ our redeemer, went purchasing more dryness by his age: for from the day that we are borne, until that of our death, we daily grow to a more dryness, and losing of flesh, & a greater knowledge. The subtle and delicate parts of his brain, went correcting themselves, whilst he fed upon meats, which the Prophet speaketh of. For if every moment he had need of nourishment, and restoring the substance which wasted away, and this must be performed with meats, and in none other sort, it is certain, that if he had always fed on cows beef, or pork, in few days he should have bred himself a brain gross and of evil temperature: with which his reasonable soul could not have shunned evil, or chosen good, save by miracle, and employing his divinity. But God leading him by natural means, caused him to use those so delicate meats, by which the brain being maintained, the same might be made an instrument, so well supplied, as (even without using the divine or infused knowledge) he might naturally have eschewed evil, and chosen good, as do the other children of men.   
FINIS.   

A Table of all the chapters contained in this Book.  

IT is proved by example, that if a child have not the disposition and ability, which is requisite for that science whereunto he will addict himself, it is a superfluous labour to be instructed therein by good schoolmasters, to have store of books, & continually to study it. fol. 1  
2 That Nature is that which makes a man of ability to learn. 13  
3 What part of the body ought to be well tempered, that a young man may have ability. 23  
4 It is proved that the soul vegetative, sensitive, and reasonable, have knowledge without that any thing be taught them, if so be that they possess that convenient temperature, which is requisite for their operation. 33  
5 It is proved that from the three qualities, hot, moist, and dry, proceed all the differences of men's wits. 51  
6 Certain doubts and arguments are propounded against the doctrine of the last chapter, and their answer. 69  
7 It is showed, that though the reasonable soul have need of the temperature of the four first qualities, aswell for his abiding in the body, as also to discourse and syllogise, Yet for all this, it followeth not, that the same is corruptible and mortal. 88  
8 How there may be assigned to every difference of wit, his Science, which shallbe correspondent to him in particular: and that which is repugnant and contrary, be abandoned. 102  
9 How it may be proved that the eloquence and fineness of speech cannot find place in men of great understanding. 120  
10 How it is proved that the Theoric of Divinitic appertaineth to the understanding, and preaching (which is his practice) to the imagination. 126  
11 That the Theoric of the laws appertaineth to the memory, and pleading and judging (which are their practice) to the understanding, and the governing of a commonwealth to the imagination. 150  
12 How it may be proved, that of Theorical Physic, part appertaineth to the memory, and part to the understanding, and the practic to the imagination. 173  
13 By what means it may be showed, to what difference of ability the art of warfare appertaineth, and by what signs the man may be known, who is endowed with this manner of wit. 200  
14 How we may know to what difference of ability the office of a king appertaineth, and what signs he ought to have, who enjoyeth this manner of wit. 238  
15 In what manner Parents may beget wise children, and of a wit fit for learning. 263 

§. 1. By what signs we may know, in what degree of hot and dry, every man resteth. 278  
§. 2. What women ought to marry with what man, that they may have children. 282  
§. 3. What diligence ought to be used, that children male, and not female may be borne. 286  
§. 4. What diligence is to be used, that children may prove witty and wise. 300  
§. 5. What diligences are to be used, for preserving the children's wit after they are form. 322.     
FINIS.