THE PRAISE of Solitariness, Set down in the form of a Dialogue, Wherein is contained, a Discourse Philosophical, of the life Active, and Contemplative.  
IMPRINTED AT LONdon by Francis Coldocke and Henry Bynneman. 1577.  
Qui nihil sperat Nihil desperate.   

TO THE RIGHT Worshipful my approved friend, Mr. Edward Dyer, increase of estimation according to his virtue.  
SIR, though neither my experience, nor skill, may yield me any hope to countervail your worthiness, by any work, or labour of mine, considering in yourself, your own art and ability of writing: yet partly my affection, partly yo●● courtesy, and partly the love you bear unto knowledge, have together by degrees prevailed to persuade me, to commend unto you the willing proffer, of this my small & simple present. The rather, for that indifferently debating with myself of the matter, and conferring mine opinion with the nature of the time, wherein each thing doth covet to grow to perfection: I find the same so plentifully stored, with such virtuous precepts and well tempered rules, both of public and private behaviour, that of itself it may liberally deserve, to be embraced of all men: but especially of those, that delighting in the study and knowledge of good letters, are desirous in the end, to reap the due fruit and benefit of their labour: And wherein, you chief above the rest, may plainly also as in a glass behold, a pleasant remembrance of your contempl●iue delights: together, with those things set down for precepts unto others, that are but matters, of daily practice with yourself. All which, though for the private use of your own understanding, knowing right well, how generally you are seen and acquainted in the languages, I might with less labour have delivered to your hands, under those very words that the Author himself hath set down the same: yet therewithal considering the nature of Virtue, which hath always been accounted to carry this property, that is, to covet to have each thing to be like unto itself: I thought it therefore more agreeable to your liking, to see the matter set plainly down, under such our ordinary and usual phrase, as the vulgar sort that have affection to learn, might thereby also gather some profit. Who, if indifferently as they have cause, they ponder the advantage of that which is proffered, may well perceive, that what by example of yourself and such like, & what by the precepts herein contained, they may the rather learn, how first to avoid, the usual haunt of such idle company, as bringeth in the end, no profit but repentance: and after, how and in what sort to employ their time at home, in the exercise of such knowledge, as bringeth with it a contented world both of pleasure and delight: and such also as adorneth the mind, with the true disposition and habit of Virtue, which as the Philosophers affirm, is double, the one Intellectual, the other Moral, whereof the first is to be got by reading, the latter by practice, and they both, leading the way to that eternal felicity, which of all men is so generally desired. Finally, if by this occasion it may so come to pass, that Knowledge the mother of Goodness, may the rather be embraced, and that Idleness the nurse of Mischief, may be aught the more avoided: the estimation thereof as it belongeth to yourself, in respect of whom regarding your desert, I was only moved to undertake this attempt: so, if otherwise I may seem by this means to deserve, in the judgement of those that are curiously disposed, either blame or misliking: I likewise crave your friendly assistance, by the help of your protection, to countenance my proceedings. In am whereof, I am able to yield you no other recompense, than that which was due unto you before, that is, the unfeigned affection of him, that wholly remains at your devotion.  
ROGER BAYNES.   

To the Reader.  
SINCE for the most part it cometh so to pass, that each man either is, or may be thought partial in his own affairs, and that it is a fault very easily committed, to 〈◊〉 ween of ourselves: to the end, I may avoid the one, and discharge me of the other as a thing without cause: I will therefore, neither seem to advise thee, nor determine to entreat thee, to deem any better of this my labour, than thy affection will suffer to give thee leave: but as one well persuaded of thy indifferency, will freely allow thee the liberty of thy conscience, to like or mislike thereof at thy pleasure. For divers and variable are the handy works of nature, and several the opinions, that are severally nourished, in bodies divided: In one she planteth such a spirit of temperance, that no indifferent dealing may move him to offence: in another she frameth such contrary motions, that each thing mislikes him that falls not in his humour: thus, how one special matter may be equally piled to the plesing of all men, I can gather no reason. Let each man therefore bear the burden of his fortune, and let no man seem offended with that, which he cannot amend: for this is certain, that many among the rest are of condition so froward, that the more they are entreated, the more untractable they are found. Whose vain reports touching matters of knowledge, as for the most part they rather proceed, from the weakness of their own natures, than from any certain or just occasion, so small is the care that aught in my judgement to be taken of the same: Only this of all writers aught chief to be regarded, to satisfy the good opinion of those, that either for love to the Author, or favour to the matter, are contented to construe each thing to the best. Of which number, deeming thee to be one, I betake thee my friend to the favour of thy fortune, and me thy well-willer, to the adventure of thy courtesy  
VALE.  Qui nihil sperat, Nihil desperate.  

The praise of Solitariness, set down in the form of a Dialogue, wherein is contained a discourse Philosophical, of the life Active, and Contemplative.  
The Speakers. LYSIPPUS, EUDOXUS. TALES.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
First, what Virtue is, and whether a wise man that desireth to live virtuously, aught rather to make choice of Solitariness or Society.  LYSIPPUS. 
Well met Eudoxus, 
The place of meeting is to be supposed at Venice.  whence come you?  EUDOXUS 
I come from a place wherein I have always taken great pleasure: but whether walk you?  LYSIPPUS. 
I came forth my friend, for none other occasion, but only to look thee: for thou art not ignorant, how ill I may endure the want of thy company whom for the greatness of thy virtue, and the singular sweetness, of thy pleasant behaviour, I have always dearly loved.  EUDOX. 
And I, suspecting no less than that which is happened, made hast the sooner to come abroad, fearing that full hardly, thou wouldst else have found me, in the place where I was. But now, since thus by good fortune we are so well met together, determine I pray thee, with thy best advice, what way we shall take, to walk for our pleasure, that in conference abroad we may debate of some matter, according to our accustomed manner.  LYSIP. 
Abide a while Eudoxus, see, this is good luck.  EUDOX. 
What is that?  LYSIPPUS. 
Behold, where our old friend Tales posteth hytherwardes apace, therefore, let us stay for him a while, and according as he shall direct our journey, so we will determine to pass on together, unto some such place, as most convenient shall seem unto him for this purpose.  EUD. 
I like this motion well, he is now at hand, use the matter therefore, I pray thee, in such sort, that he may be willing for company to accept of the same.  LYS. 
Him, Tales, whether walk you? I would have thee my friend to understand, that we have purposely here expected thy coming, for this occasion only, that to what place thou art appointed to walk, we may bear thee company.  TALES. 
certess my friends, I deem myself very far unworthy of this pre-eminence, but that I see it proceedeth from the wont favour you have always born me. Therefore, without more add, to the end we may a little recreate our minds, which we are taught to solace with intermission of study, thereby the rather, that after some rest, they may become again more pregnant than before: I think it best (if so it please you) to enter this Gundu●o, and in the same to behold all these places of pleasure, 
Gundulo is a little boat, which is used at Venice, to row about the City for 〈◊〉.  which as beautiful suburbs, are bordering about this noble City: wherein, we may familiarly talk and confer, of what matter we list at our pleasure.  EUDO. 
It liketh me well.  LYSIP. 
Let us then determine, to loose no more time, but let us presently all agree to take boat.  TALES. 
Holla, waterman, bring hither thy Vessel, and devise I pray thee, to row us conveniently here abroad for our pleasure.  LYSIPPUS. 
Now I desire Eudoxus to know, from what place thou wast then coming, when seeking for thee, thou sooner by chance didst meet me on the way, than I looked for.  EUD. 
Verily, I came at the instant (my friend) from the isle of S. George the great, 
This Island standeth on the side of Venice.  the which, as well for the pleasantness of the place (whose sea still moisting the soil, doth wash the same about) as also, for the stately building thereof, is undoubtedly among the rest of all these Isles here adjoining, esteemed the fairest. Where, when from the care of my worldly affairs I find any leisure, withdrawing me wholly from the common concourse and multitude of the people, both oft and many times I bestow myself▪ to think upon the rules and precepts of Philosophy. For Solitariness is doubtless, a special friend of mine, as a Nurse, that doth cherish and maintain all commendable studies: yielding to such as do embrace her, both ease and quietness. Besides, she cureth the weakness of the mind, all idle carefulness she driveth away, she avoideth lust, and banisheth fear. The which, since by daily experience it cometh so to pass, you shall hardly (I presume) find one amongst a number, that hath earnestly affected and favoured Philosophy, but that he hath rather delighted with few, than with many to be conversant: In such sort, that divers utterly forsaking the daily society both of Towns and Cities, have wholly in the end betaken themselves to the sweet delight and recreation of Solitariness: Which plainly may appear by the saying of Flaccus, a Poet most excellent.  
To me no simple care it is, how I the sacred springs may meet:  
From whence I long the sap to suck, of happy life the precepts sweet.  
Which thing, we also understand that the Emperor Augustus did greatly desire, who writing to the Senate said: that so long as he considered with himself of the quiet repose of Solitariness, he found his mind delighted with a great and singular pleasure. Besides; how many other, both grave and wise men may we remember, that have wished the same to have fallen to their haps: who restrained thereof, either by the care of their peculiar affairs, or by the public causes of the common wealth, could never attain to try by proof, what happiness was contained in the bosom of Solitariness. LY. I know (my friend) the place you speak of, to be no less by nature than by art, so rarely polished, that among. divers the beautiful ornaments of this most excellent flourishing City, it may lawfully in my opinion be compared with the best. But since the occasion is already proffered, of the disputation of Solitariness, I deem it best (if so it please you) to touch this matter ear we leave it, more fully.  EUDO. 
Nothing for my part may content me more, than to hear some discourse and debatement thereof: neither will Tales, I know, disagree from the same. Wherefore, I dare boldly presume, that to each of us you shall do (my friend) a singular pleasure, if so you will endeavour to set down your opinion concerning this matter, not only, what you esteem thereof yourself, but also what precepts concerning the same, you think it needful to afford unto us.  LYSIP. 
Since by this I understand it is then your pleasure, to spend some time in the disputation of this question, that I may fully, and that at few words discharge the duty and due regard of a friend, I will presently declare unto you my mind what I think of the same. And to be plain, I do not a little Eudoxus disagree, from this opinion of ye●res: for whether you intent Solitariness to consist in that, that a man withdrawing himself from company, seeketh rather to live in the void and desolate places of the earth, and there, playing the Philosopher in the open wilderness, doth seem alone to content himself: or that you deem, the substance thereof to remain in the common society of man, notwithstanding, to be conversant but with few: I truly esteem it, no way to pertain to the duty of a wise man, to whom it chief belongeth in all his actions, to have special regard to his end. For, it is not to be thought that the high and sovereign God, did first created man to the end to live wholly to himself, neither was he born for himself only, but that of his birth, part his Country as Plato saith, and part his friends are to challenge. Besides, if so it were necessary for man to live alone, then were it but peerless for him to have a wife, but otherwise it appeareth, that God knowing better our necessity than we ourselves, thought marriage a thing very needful to be provided. Wherefore, assure your self you shall commonly find, either few or none of those that are accounted wise, that will rather seem, to prefer Solitariness before society. But of the other side many, that have utterly condemned that uncivil kind of life, which ignorant people in the beginning of the world did brutishly lead, much after the manner of unreasonable beasts. Among whom, there was neither society nor friendship maintained, no man living in the bounds of lawful matrimony, no man certain of his own children, nor any law to distinguish the good from the evil maintained among them. What should I say? each man than did carelessly range, and wander abroad in the desolate Wilderness, having neither dwelling nor place of abode. But when reason had after taught them to associate themselves together, and that Moses that mighty Captain of the jews was also born, by whom the eternal God gave first the law to the line of his inheritance: from thence I say, the law makers and Philosophers, first taking their instruction, began to set down both manners and institutions of living: And after, as Towns and Cities were daily erected, so the people began to esteem of Humanity and to reverence Religion, whereby in short space it came after to pass, that divers addicted themselves to the favour of Faith, and to the exercise of justice, and divers other to submit themselves to the yoke of obedience: so as by this time, each man did esteem it a thing belonging to his duty, not only to employ the best of his labour, but also to adventure the loss of his life, for the better maintenance of the common Wealth. From thence likewise both Solon and Lycurgus took first their light, from which foundation of theirs, the renowned Grecians become so famous, for the due establishment of their equal laws. From whom, the Romans also did after derive, their penal constitutions contained in their tables, by the which, they brought the people in all their actions, from thenceforth to become both profitable and honest: who though at first by the strangeness thereof, they began to murmur and repined at such bondage, yet after, being better contented with reason to hear & understand the same, from wild & untamed creatures they brought them at last, to show themselves both gentle & meek. Fron hence the majesty of their Empire, from hence the greatness of their dominions, from hence the multitude of their Magistrates, took first their beginning. But, that I may not too particularly run over these matters, if with diligence you search, you shall find no goodness to remain among the people, that hath not happened to spring from this fountain of Society. Yea, the sacred knot of friendship itself, than the which we have nothing received more pleasant from the Gods, nor of greater reverence & estimation on the earth, took also her original foundation from the ●ame. But what think you of this, above the rest O Tales?  TALES. 
I am not ignorant my friends, that this question may sufficiently be debated on both sides, notwithstanding, since you demand my opinion, I will endeavour myself to declare you my mind what I think of the matter. It seemeth therefore unto me, that if a wise man, should only respect his private commodity, or that he were specially addicted to his own security, he aught doubtless in the behalf, to choose to live rather to himself than to others. But, if so he be persuaded, that nothing may be counted more honest, nothing for a mighty & noble parsonage more worthy, than to benefit as many as possible he may: he must utterly then decline from Solitariness, & must earnestly seek to be conversant abroad, chief so long, as the necessity of others shall so require the same. And according to the saying of Socrates, some with sweetness of oration, & some with example of pure & perfect life, he must labour to induce to the reverence of Virtue: knowing right well, that she hath need of an instructor, to acquaint her to the world, & that nothing doth more allure the minds of the people to esteem of honesty, than the daily custom & example of good men.  EUDO. 
Will you grant, my friends (ere we proceed any further) that it may be possible for a little quantity of gall, to make bitter a great deal of honey: or y● one infected kernel, may be able to corrupt 〈◊〉 whole cluster of Grapes.  TAL. 
Why not Eudoxus?  EUD. 
Then wherefore I pray you do you suppose, that a wise man being placed amids the infection of so many vices dispersed abroad both far & wide, may possible preserve himself unpolluted: and are not rather persuaded, the good men (the number of whom is but small) may be rather carried away by the greater number, & so become infected of the multitude. For among divers the causes of our evil demeanour, this is one, that for the most part we live after the example of others, & are not governed by reason, so that the better sort are sooner drawn out of the way, by the custom of the which is evil, than that the multitude (leaving their error & false opinion, which leadeth them headlong daily unto vice) by example of their honesty may at all be brought to the due estimation & reverence of virtue: the which is therefore of all men the rather neglected, 
The strength of the mind and of natures is double.  because the strength of the mind & of nature is double. The one consisting in desire, which draweth a man both hither & thither, whereunto nature is always most inclining: The other consisting in reason, which teacheth & explaineth what aught to be done, and what to be avoided. But few there are (I may say) that willingly seek to follow the footsteps of Virtue, with this gift of reason: for that, when they determine with themselves to tread her path, they found the same more tedious than they looked, wanting both counsel, Wisdom, labour, & diligence, as it may plainly be seen by the shape and figure of Pythagoras 
This letter Y. is called Pythagoras' letter, as it is more plainly set down in Vergile, his Epigrams the eight.  letter. By occasion whereof they retire themselves back, refusing the pain & industry wherewithal noble minds are nourished, & so, remain waving (as it were) between the counterfeit of Virtue and the love of profit, among whom, Falsehood for the most part doth hold the place and estimation of Troth, chief so long as it is generally so accepted and received of all men.  LYSIP. 
Well said Eudoxus, now verily I then perceive, it will be thought needful (as the case requireth) that we first define what virtue is: And after (if so it please you) we will further consider, whether Solitariness or society may seem more convenient for the obtaining thereof.  EUD. 
Why so Lysip. Will this whole day suffice, as you take, it to perform the same? Doubtless I dare hereof be bold to assure you, that look how many there are, that have severally defined of Virtue, so many in a manner are their several opinions concerning the same.  LYSIP. 
It shall suffice Eudoxus in this behalf, if of those divers definitions of there's, we repeat some two or three of the most approved. Let Tales therefore, take in hand the dealing of this matter for us both.  EUDO. 
Thereof would I be very glad, wherefore at this our earnest request, I pray thee O Tales to accept of the same.  TALES. 
I am afraid my friends, lest you heap on me a greater charge, than either in my power remains to perform, or may agree with my desire, considering how little I have been trained as yet, in the grounded knowledge of the liberal Sciences: so that in a matter of importance so great, it behoveth me rather to hold my peace than to speak. For, what learning at all do you perceive in me? or what wit? that I may worthily seem on the sudden to deal in a case so difficult and of such weight, as requireth of itself, no small skill and practise to be looked for in him that should meddle with the same. Verily my friends, of all those causes that are handled in Philosophy, there is no one thing more gravely uttered, or with a greater majesty. Wherefore, this aught rather (if I may judge) to be your charge and duty, who in the study of Philosophy, and of all other knowledge, have profit ably spent the greatest part of your age.  LYSIPPUS. 
Go to Tales, and despair not with thyself of thy own ability, either to define or to dispute of Virtue, for as much, as the ornaments thereof by the judgement of all men, do greatly appear in thee: In ●uche sort, as if the Gods had pleased to appoint thee to have been born in the time when Socrates and Plato did live, there would have appeared unto them no other Phaedrus or Alcibiades than they self, in respect of thy great and singular towardness given thee by nature. Wherefore, persuade thyself my friend, that for thy knowledge, thou art able to debate, and that exactly, of the worthiness thereof, since by the gift of God, thou hast obtained to have her, the ruler and director, of thy flourishing life.  EUD. 
I can for my part Tales no otherwise think, of the perfection of thy wit, nor of the estimation of thy behaviour, than as Lisippus hath already thought: and in troth, the most part of those that know thee beside, are of the same opinion. Wherefore, to each of us thou shalt do (my friend) a singular pleasure, if as in other things thou were heretofore wont, so thou wilt now at this our request, set down unto us some approved rules and precepts of Virtue, both what it is by the opinion of others, & also what thou esteemest thereof thyself.  TALES. 
Thus it is to offer violence, neither doth it ought avail by what reason you persuade me, since plainly you compel me: for, to gainsay the earnest request of my friends, (chief in a matter of honesty) as it may seem a thing ungrateful, so is it unreasonable. divers therefore debating of Virtue, being divers of opinion among themselves, have diversly spoken. But Plato in his Book entitled Menon, where questioning of many things (as his manner was) he hath expressed in order the several opinions of divers writers, and with excellent reasons hath confuted them all, 
The first definition of VIRTUE.  seemeth verily to define, That Virtue is nothing else than goodness itself. But what that goodness is, and where it doth remain, there have been heretofore, and are still, depending many controversies among the Philosophers. The Stoics did suppose the same, to remain in Virtue. The Epicures did esteem it, to consist in Pleasure, as those that thought it impossible to separate Pleasure from Virtue, nor any man to live honestly that lived not pleasantly, and again, no man to live pleasantly that lived not honestly. The Peripatetikes were of opinion, that there were three kinds of goodness, that is to say, of the Mind, of the Body, and of Fortune. The goods of the mind they thought to be those things that remain in advice, and in the excellency of wit, as Prudence, justice, Fortitude, and Modesty. Of the body, those things which nature hath given profitable to the body, as Swiftness, Force, parsonage, and Health. Of Fortune, those things which by lot or happy chance do prosperously befall, as Birth, Education, Richeses, Authority, Possessions, Friends, and such like. But, for honesties sake we will in this place omit the opinion of the Cynic sect, as those that lived no less like Dogs than they spoke, and will again return to the triple distinction of Goodness: wherein, whatsoever shall be said of Goodness, the same you must also intent to be spok● of Virtue. For, if Virtue may rightly be termed goodness, no less may goodness as rightly also be called Virtue: since by the rule of Logic, the definition, and the thing defined, may lawfully be converted. Now therefore, let us farther consider what these former Philosophers did properly account this goodness to be, or in what actions they placed the same? Wherein, I do many times with Cicero call in question the wisdom of those learned men, who thought, the weak and changeable gifts of the body, 
That goodness doth not consist in the gifts of the body, nor of Fortune.  and also of Fortune, worthy only in speech the name of goodness, when in very deed, they were themselves far otherwise of opinion, concerning the intent and meaning of the same: In so much as Epicurus himself, who referred all goodness unto pleasure, when he was vexed & disturbed with his greatest grief, behaved himself both stoutly & boldly: Saying, when the stopping of his urine, & the incredible grief of his belly exulcerated, did pitifully torment him, O, how happily do I endure this last, 
The proof of the first part of this argument.  and ending day of mine. For as divers & sundry times we may see, a great and mighty parsonage take his beginning from base and low parentage, so may we also as oft behold a stout and valiant mind shrouded under a body, both weak, deformed, & unhealthful: And therefore, since nature can daily make proof unto us, that a noble & virtuous mind may possible lie hide under each kind of form, the deformity of the body aught not to embase the estimation of the mind, but the beauty of the mind aught rather to adorn the feature of the body. Neither is it to be thought, the old men, because the strength of their bodies is decayed, are therefore to be worse esteemed than young men, since it is manifest that the greatest exploits are not always brought to pass, by strength, swiftness, or agility of body, but rather by counsel, authority, and judgement, wherein old men are most experienced. The which, if any man by contention will seem to deny, what other thing (I pray you) may there follow thereof, but that Bulls, Lions, Elephants, & such other beasts may also be said to be better than men, because they are stronger: which no man I think dare venture to affirm, unless some such as desireth to be taken & accounted for a fool. For albeit, I confess that nature hath made man unarmed, yet notwithstanding, she hath given him two things especially above the rest, wherewith to defend his body from the harm of such as are stronger than himself, that is to say, Reason and Society. But let us leave to speak of beasts, & let us return to men themselves, who of body have been passing strong. What then I pray you shall we say of ●iphaeus, Briareus, and divers other Giants? What of Milo? who is said to have passed the whole race of Olimpia, with alive Ox on his shoulders, never taking his breath by the way. What of Antheus and Hercules? shall we say that such men are therefore better than those, who by force of their wit, or by any other means, have likewise performed divers notable exploits. Let us for the purpose consider, what thing hath profited most the Roman Empire in the time of their danger: whether the great foresight of Marcus Tullius, by the which he found out the dissension of the people, & so preserved the liberty of his country, from the secret harm of rebellious Citizens: or the notable triumphs of C. Marius & Furius Camillus, with the famous & victorious prizes, which by force of arms they brought from foreign countries. What would it (I pray you) have profited that noble Empire, to have subdued the whole circuit of the world, if the like dissension had befallen them at home, which Horace lamenteth in his time to have happened, saying: 
By civil war, now to decay, another age is led:  
And Rome her ruin, hath by such, as she herself hath bread.  
Whom neither might their neighbours near, the Martians so subdue:  
Nor fierce Porsenaes' Trurian band, such cause of grief renew.  
Not Capua spite, no servile host, of Spartacus assail:  
Not Switser with his vile mishap, in new attempts prevail.   
The common wealth being therefore by him thus preserved from danger, full worthily in my opinion was he accounted (as by the mouth of all men he was called) the father of his Country, whereupon, taking great comfort at that time in himself, he uttered this saying.  Let war give place to Wisdoms will, and Laurel yield to Rhethorickes' skill. 
This was the cause, why Agamemnon that mighty Captain of the Grecians, did never wish to have had in his company, ten the like of Aex but of Nestor's notwithstanding he wished so many, from whose tongue as Homer saith, there proceeded speech more sweet than any honey: which if it might have happened, he would not have doubted but that Troy should soon have been destroyed. Whereby it appeareth, that those ancient warriors had always more affiance in the valour of the mind, than of the body, and not unworthily (as I take it) since oftentimes it hath happened, that they themselves with a very few soldiers, have utterly overthrown a great & mighty army, yea rather, by the singular knowledge and policy of the mind, than by force of arms, or sway of men: whereby, they have not only kept their countries free from the danger of their enemies, but thereunto have annexed both Kingdoms and empires. And that it is so, Leonides King of the Spartans may very well testify, who, when he made to his Soldiers that singular oration, by the which he did encourage them boldly to give the onset on that great and mighty army of Xerxes, saying: My Soldiers and companions, let us fully determine to make such a dinner this day in the field, as though we should sup together this night, in the very lap and entrails of the earth: he (I say) with four thousand Soldiers at that time and no more, did victoriously vanquish that unnumerable host of the Persians', with whose navy the whole sea was clean covered over at their arrival into Greece. But, what also shall we say of those two famous Soldiers, C. and P. Scipio? who esteeming it a thing both honourable and manly, to die in the defence of their Country, did think it necessary to stop the coming of the Carthaginians, with the apparent danger of their own bodies. What of Horatius Cocles, who alone did defend the entrance of a narrow bridge, which lay upon the river of Tiber, commanding the while, the hinder part thereof to be taken away, that his enemies might have no passage on the same? What of Gedion, who with three hundredth Soldiers, being armed only with heavenly power, did miraculously overcome many thousand Philistians? What of David himself▪ who being unarnmed, with a sting only and a stone, did manfully overthrow the great Golias, who both, for armour and strength, was there well appointed as a Champion to fight, and proudly did challenge the people of God? Shall we rather say, that all these have thus deserved their immortal fame and estimation in the world, for the greatness of their strength, or for the singularity of their Virtue?  LISIP. 
What of that Tales? Do you therefore think, that the strength of the body is not good?  TALES. 
Yea truly.  LISIP. 
Is it then to be deemed evil?  TALES. 
Not so neither. LISIP. If you deem that strength be neither good nor evil, what is it then?  TALES. 
We call (my friend) all such like ornaments, whether they be gifts of Nature, or of Fortune, indifferent things, which are thought to be common not only unto men, but also unto beasts: and that which may be counted common, as well unto them as unto us, may verily unto us be no way deemed good. For if so it were good, neither might beasts obtain the same, nor evil men have the use thereof: or if they had, yet could they by no means use it to their own harm: but by course it would follow, that look how far forth they were furnished with such like qualities, so much the more they would thereby become much better than others, since goodness itself is of this nature, that it maketh the possessor thereof far much the better. But since otherwise it happeneth, that those which for the most part are accounted strongest, are therewithal most commonly more hurtful than others, what may we thereof think? May goodness be noisome to any man? or as with Cicero we may say, May any man in the abundance of his goodness be deemed evil himself? nay verily, we see that often all such like things, both lewd and wicked people possess them, and therewithal are offensive unto those that are good. In my opinion therefore (as I have said before) that which either may hurt us, or that which is common to evil people and wild beasts together with us, may not any way possibly be deemed good unto us.  EUD. 
Thou sayest my friend both well & truly in this behalf, but since by this reason it appeareth, the good men aught only to be reverenced for their goodness, there is yet another error, 
The proof of the second part of the argument before.  but from whence it proceedeth I know not, the rich men are in all places honoured, notwithstanding they be evil men, and poor men despised although they be good men. And yet it is not unknown unto us that it is given to all men to be for the most part of a better judgement in adversity than in prosperity: And therefore it is daily seen, that miserable and wretched people are always more forward to serve and worship God, than those that are happy: For prosperity is a thing, that withdraws us from goodness.  TAL. 
Thou art ignorant it seemeth Eudoxus, that for the most part we value each thing according to opinion, and not unto nature: we first believe before we give judgement. Neither for any other occasion are we rather thought to be confirmed in our naughtiness, than for because, he that flatters us in our evil doings, & is a party to the same, is thereby a provoker of all such things in the which we offend. And commonly to our evil demeanour, this also is annexed, that when we offend, it sufficeth us not to offend, to that only destruction of one, but that it greatly delighteth us, to impart our naughtiness with many, if so by any means, we may heap the same upon the heads of our neighbours. And hereupon it rises, that ●ur eyes being dazzled with the brightness of gold, we often times repeat from the bottom of our hearts, this saying of Euripides, 
So rich I may be thought, how ill, no care at all I take:  
If rich he be, men ask, if good, no men inquiry make.  
Not whence, nor wherefore, asked is, but what he hath to lend:  
Each man esteemed is no more, than as he may dispend.  
What were unfit for us to have, dost ask? nothing at all:  
In wealth I wish to live, if not, for present death I call.  
Who so doth dye, he well doth dye, that makes a wealthy end:  
This money is the greatest good, that God to man may send.  
Than which, ne may thy mother's love, so much thy mind delight:  
Ne love of father, nor of child, is half ●o dear in sight.  
Not not the love, of comely shape, that in thy face doth stay:  
Of men beneath, and Gods above, she bears the only sway.   
So therefore (I say) it delighteth us to live, as between us and beasts there may be found no difference, but only that of speech we enjoy the liberty which wholly they want. To whom if like liberty were also granted, if of them thou wouldst then demand, what thing above the rest they chief desire, what other answer at all would they make, but only to enjoy that which best delighteth their appetites, which bringeth most pleasure and delectation to their senses, and all this for no other reason, than for because they accounted the pleasure of the body their chiefest felicity. Therefore, let it be farthest off from your opinion my friends, that Richeses are to be deemed good, the rather, since Democritus, Crates, and divers other heretofore have forsaken their wealth, to the end, that being both bore and without encombance, they might so follow Virtue the better, who of herself is both single and bore, and consists not in the uncertainty of riches, made subject to foreign invasion, but is otherwise established, in perfect firmness and stability, which Lucilius considering, says: 
That is not thy, which Fortune thy, by chance hath made to be:  
What wishing brings, may well betide another, as to thee.   
What riches then is there I pray you, upon the which there doth not casually depend, Need, Hunger, and Beggary, the rather, since God hath so ordered the state of humane causes to be such, that the best good things of this world are always held with greatest care, and that no man may so greatly be deceived, by reposing his trust in any state or degree of Fortune, as upon that which in the judgement of the world is accounted greatest. For this occasion we think it always needful of one felicity to maintain another, because each thing that happeneth by chance is unstable, and that which rises most high, is apwed test still to fall. But that, which best above all things is allowed unto man, may neither be given nor taken away by any man, for that it lieth without the power of man to disannul the same. The which since so it fareth, it is doubtless therefore the greatest madness that may be, to follow the desire of that brittle substance, chief with all our study, care and diligence, which is subject still to the invasion of others: The property whereof is also so variable, that if at this day it be, to morrow it may hap to be found in no place. This verily was the cause, why Stilbon when he had already lost both his wealth and dignity, being asked of Demetrius who held from him the possession of his City, what he had lost, made answer, nothing, For all, that is mine doth remain with me still. And that B●as did also ●he like, Cicero doth likewise testify, who when his enemies had taken from him his Country Pryenna, and that divers did fly from thence, taking with them great part of their treasure, being admonished by a friend of his to do the like, made answer, Suerlie so I do, for I have always about me as much as is mine. Whereby it seemeth that these contented people did thus contemn & despise their wealth, for that they esteemed nothing to be good, unless it were honest: so as, of these vanities of Fortune which we call riches, they made no reckoning, knowing, that it was to them the greatest felicity, not to want felicity, & fully persuading themselves, that the whole world was allowed unto them by nature for their patrimony, accounting also that wealth by the law of nature was esteemed poverty, and that nothing could seem unto them more foolish & filthy, than to frame the goodness of a reasonable mind out of unreasonable things.  LISIP. 
Truly Tales, thou hast herein played the Philosopher most excellently: But I pray thee tell me, dost thou take Wisdom for a Virtue or no?  TA. 
Not verily.  LISIP. 
What reason I pray thee persuadeth thee so?  TALES. 
For that, if wisdom were a Virtue, this thereof would follow, that Virtue were not abiding within us, but should come outwardly unto us, which absurdity were great, since Virtue is a thing, that may neither be given nor taken away by any man, as before we have declared: But Wisdom we find, may conveniently pass over from one to another, & therefore, it must consequently ensue; that of itself it is no Virtue: the which may be also proved another way. For if Wisdom were a Virtue, it should also be good, & if so it were good, it should likewise make them to be good which are counted wise. But since otherwise it appeareth, the divers before this time have become Philosophers, to the only end to know what were good & what were evil, rather, than for that they desire to become any thing the better by the knowledge of the same: It is therefore to be doubted of no man, but that we have rightly termed Wisdom, that is to say Knowledge, to be no Virtue. For if Knowledge were a Virtue, the doctrine thereof might doubtless be taught, which if it were possible, then would there be found both teachers and learners of Virtue, as of other sciences. But for as much as they are no where found, it thereby appeareth, that neither Knowledge, nor any other thing concerning the Mind, may be called Virtue, as Plato himself doth plainly affirm.  LISIPPUS. 
What then of Justice I pray you, may that be counted a Virtue or not?  TALES. 
If we deny Wisdom to be a Virtue, we less yield Justice, less Fortitude, or Modesty of themselves to be Virtues: since all these things (Wisdom taken away) are not only worth nothing, but also do rather more hurt than good. For Justice without the government of Wisdom, what else may it seem than wilful liberty? Fortitude what else, than unconsiderate rashness? Modesty what else, than slothful and dissolute negligence? By this it therefore appeareth that Wisdom, that is to say, the Knowledge of good and evil, is one thing, and Virtue another: For there may be Knowledge without Virtue, as plainly it appeared by divers of the Philosophers, who in deed did only usurp the name of Virtue, when in effect, what the same did rightly import, they were altogether ignorant. Yet Knowledge, as to some men it seemeth, is so conjoined with Virtue, that Knowledge goeth before & Virtue followeth: For little doth Knowledge profit, unless the action do also ensue. And therefore it may rightly be concluded, that no kind of goodness, that the Peripatetics did in their time allow of, may be simply deemed good: For Virtue itself is an other thing in deed than they did think off, and from thence (as I take it) all goodnosse doth proceed: the rest doubtless, they are one day good and another day evil.  LISIPPUS. 
Thou haste herein Tales full truly spoken, but so much the rather by this it appeareth, that Epicurus of all men was farthest wide from the knowledge of this doctrine, as one that referred all Goodness unto Pleasure, and laboured still to speak as near as he might to the pleasing of each man, which seemeth far differing from the true disposition and habit of Virtue: For this in effect was the manner of his doctrine. The slothful man he dischargeth from the knowledge of good letters. The covetous man he acquitteth from the expense of his money. The idle man he forbiddeth from the dealings of the common wealth: The lazy man to be exercised: or the coward to be a soldier he will not suffer: To him that hath evil children he commendeth the want of children: Against ungodly fathers, he saith, there is no bond of nature: To him that is impatient and nice, he affirmeth that grief is the greatest evil: who that seeketh for Glory and power, to him he gives commandment to follow the Court: and who that can abide no trouble, him he persuadeth to forsake the Court: For this he generally affirmeth, That a wise man aught always to do each thing for himself.  TALES. 
What marvel thereof my friend, when a guileful f●lowe will not stick for advantage to play upon all hands, desiring nothing more earnestly, than for the time to please each man, and to be commended and allowed of all men. Hereupon it rose, that his discipline was more honoured than the discipline of others, not for that he came nearest to the knowledge of that perfect Goodness, but for because▪ he did entice the people to the popular name of pleasure. For there is no man living, that is not pro●e unto vice. But that which above the rest was most pernicious, unto those that were Ungodly, he denied the help of Divine providence. Notwithstanding, by the very same reason by which he was moved to say that the Gods did care for nothing, for that he daily saw, divers calamities to fall upon good men, as Poverty, Toil, banishment, with the loss of their friends: and evil men on the other ●ide to become very happy, to increase in power, and to be loaded with honour: he saw likewise, innocency less assured, wickedness committed unpunished, and death to encroach without respect of manners, without order, or difference of years, coming to some in their old age, to some again in their infanty, to whom nothing had yet happened but only hope of life: taking some away in the midst of their strength, other some also in the flower of their youth, suffering divers and those of the better sort to perish in the wars, likewise vexing and persecuting men if religion with divers grievous afflictions, & unto those that either despise God, or refuse to do him worship, offering either little or no grief at all: By the same reason (I say) he was fully confuted, and did thereby confess, that in God our creator there is providence divine, and that it is necessary to believe there is also a life to come, in which evil men for their offences shall be punished, and good men for their Virtue rewarded. For if true it were that there remained in God no Providence divine, how should the world be so duly disposed? how should the rain fall, fruit spring, or trees wax leaved? But, it is (as I take it) no marvel at all, though for his part he were so infected with that lewd opinion, who was toward god a very vile and unrighteous creature himself, and the first persuader and procurer of filthy pleasure, for the fruition whereof he thought man to be chief born; notwithstanding, it is in troth so far differing (my friends) from all good doctrine, to think pleasure to be good, that Plato himself that Philosopher profound, affirmeth the same to be the bait of all evil, because that men are therewithal daily taken as fish with a hook. For Ambition first, with the singular sweetness & desire of honour (which is likened to the enticing song of Mermaids) draweth them headlong one way unto her. Covetousness an other way, allureth them as fast with the gain of money: and Wantonness provoketh them, with enticements of lust: so as, there is nothing more true than the saying of Seneca, That no evil remains without pretence of warranty, and that all vice doth solicit us with hope of reward. The which that great and excellent man Architas of Tarente very wisely considering, said, that there is no greater, nor more pernicious a pestilence given to man by nature, than the pleasure of the body, of which our flesh being marvelous greedy, we are forthwith pricked on with desire to obtain it. From hence the betraying of countries, from hence the overthrow of common Weals, from hence the secret conference with foreign enemies, is said to proceed. Besides, there is also no mischief nor no foul offence pretended, that this desire of displeasure doth not enforce to be committed: All whoredoms and adulteries, and all offences whatsoever, are chief procured by no other occasion that only obey pleasure. And whereas nothing is given unto man, either by God or Nature more excellent than the mind: There is none so great an enemy to this divine gift of his, as this filthy pleasure. For where Lust doth reign, Temperance hath there no place, nor within the dominion of Pleasure, may Virtue endure to abide. The which to the end it might the better be perceived, he willeth a man to suppose in his mind, himself to be provoked with as great desire of bodily pleasure as may possibly be conceived: thinking thereby, that no man would then stand in doubt, but that so long as he were there withal delighted, he could nothing profit in mind, nothing in reason, nor any thing in thought. Wherefore he fully concludeth, that there is nothing more detestable, nothing more noisome nor pistiferous unto mankind, than this desire of pleasure: The which, how much the more it doth increase and wax big, so much the more it darkeneth and consumeth the light of the mind. See therefore then I pray you, how miserable the service of Virtue should be made, being appointed as Epicurus would have her, a servant unto Pleasure. For, it is not possible that Virtue may be obtained by pleasure, but rather diminished & lost by the same: since all these things are contrary to the one, that are thought necessary for the obtaining of the other, that is to say, Incessant labour, hardiness, and resistance against evil, whereof this life is very full. For, by what means else are men made Modest, Gentle, chaste, godly, patiented, & lovers of wisdom, but only, by fearefulnessr of poverty, dread of shame, and the bitter sharpness of continual grief? It is therefore to be thought, that by the providence of God it was ordained from the first, that Virtue should labour here in the trouble and vexation of the world: whereby it happeneth that all those, whom either wilfulness or pleasure hath headlong overthrown, are still disdainful of such as are followers of the same, impatiently taking it, that any other should enjoy that, which they want themselves. So that good men, because they daily tread this difficult and painful passage unto Virtue, are had in contempt of all those, which pleasantly walk in the plain and apparent way to vice, waxing foolishly fond of each flourishing flower and delectable fruit that they happen to see, only seeking to obtain that, chief with all their study and care, which among the mortal creatures of this world is accounted good, that is to say, Honour, Richeses, Quietness, Pleasure, and all other such enticements as wholly tend to the ease and delight of the body:  EUD. 
What then Tales, do you therefore think that there aught to be taken no care of the body?  TAL. 
That likewise on the other side were repugnant unto nature, who to all creatures hath given from the beginning of their creation, a special care to defend themselves, their lives and their bodies, and to avoid, not only those things which thereto seem hurtful, but also to search and travail to get all such things as are needful for the maintenance of the same. Therefore, let the diligent labour and care of mankind be so employed, as when Reason, Honour, or Faith, shall require it, he may boldly adventure the punishment both of fire, and of all other torments whatsoever, for the preservation thereof. The which we read, that Marcus Regulus did honourably perform, who endeavoured himself to keep his appointment, made to his utter enemies, although he was sure before, that if he returned to them again, according to his promise, he should presently endure the most bitter torments of death. But such notwithstanding was the greatness of his mind as biding in the midst of his extreme punishment, neither his Honour, his Faith, his Constancy, nor any other Virtue of his did forsake him. Neither could the excellency of his mind be aught at all tormented, which with so many rare and notable gifts was defended, & with the fellowship of so many virtues enclosed: who although his body were taken by the hands of his enemies, yet doubtless that noble and invincible mind of his, could possibly be taken by no means. What shall we say of this (my friends,) shall we think his hap to be unfortunate and miserable?  EUD. 
Nay, verily, but rather m●ny opinion, of all men most happy: For happiness of life is not that as I take it, which is performed to the appetite of pleasure, but to the agreement of Nature.  TAL. 
Therefore then, by the very same reason we may boldly judge the same, of that feigned goodness of Epicurus, that divers of our profession have judged heretofore, that is, that his sect was rather a procurer of vice, than a persuader of Virtue or of any goodness.  LISIP. 
Doubtless my friend so may we in deed, but do you likewise confess, our happiness of life to be that which is performed to the agreement of Nature, as Eudoxus very lately did seem to affirm? For if this be true, that those men which live according unto nature, should therefore be good, there might happily then come some one unto us, that might decern of our children in the time of their infancy, which of them would be good by nature: By whose judgement choosing them forth, we might do well to lodge them in Towers, and with diligence to preserve them much rather than Gold, lest any man should corrupt them to the end, that when they wa●e of convenient years, they might then become both grave and profitable members for the common wealth.  TALES. 
Thou seekest a knot (according to the Proverb) Lysippus in a Bull rush. For, I am not ignorant my friend but full well thou knowest, that each thing is named by his most worthy part, which was the cause why Eudoxus (remembering himself thereof) did so boldly affirm our happiness of life, to be that, which is led agreeable unto Nature, that is to say, agreeable to that faculty and goodness of the mind, which partaketh of Reason, and which is said to be only peculiar unto man. This therefore being known, who is it would doubt, but that if man should live to the contrary, that is to say, according to the lustful part of the mind, he should therein at all nothing differ in effect from the behaviour of beasts. For Pythagoras and Plato have both divided the mind of 〈◊〉 into two parts, the 〈◊〉 partaking of reason, the other void of reason, placing tranquillity, that is to say, fixed and quiet security, in that part of the mind which partaketh of reason: and in the other part such troublesome motions both of Wrath and desire, as are enemies to the same. Therefore, that man I pray you, which by the government of his reason, is made abstinent, constant without fear, without perturbation, and without lust, is he not happy? For this is certain, that each thing dependeth upon his own goodness, and that in each thing is termed to be good, to the which it was chief created, neither is there any other good thing peculiar unto man, but only reason: Whereupon I conclude, that ●ul blessed is that man, and happy, that liveth always agreeable unto the same, and reacheth therewith, to attain to the end and course of his nature.  EUD. 
verily Tales, thou hast herein defended most excellently my cause, decerning with the eyes of thy judgement, the very secrets of my mind, the true meaning whereof thou hast plainly expressed. Notwithstanding, this also under correction may seem to be added to that which is spoken, that is to say, the mean & occasion, by the which we may reach, to this desired end & course of our nature: which is this as I take it, if truth be first made thoroughly perfect, if in the doing of things there be observed order, measure, and comeliness, and that harmless will be made benign & attentive unto reason, never swerving nor declining from the same. By this very way, the end thereof may undoubtedly be attained, from the which, we must unfeignedly confess, that happiness of life, conjoined with safety and perpetual tranquillity, doth only proceed.  LIS. 
I cannot a little marvel Eudoxus, since there is nothing among us here that may be termed happy, how and in what sort it may so come to pass, the possible in this world we may come to enjoy, the happiness of life which you speak off.  EUDO. 
What need you thereof to marvel at all, if willingly you will allow but so much unto man, as Plotinus thought good to impart unto beasts.  LISIP. 
If that should be so, that a Man may be happy, having no more allowed him than is allowed unto beasts, then have we in my opinion, a great deal more cause of marvel than before.  EUDOXUS. 
His very words my friend if thou do mark, shall give thee thereof to understand as he spoke them. Thus therefore, in the books which he written of the happiness of life, he doth say: Since well to live and to be happy are accounted as one, then whether do we also allow the same unto beasts? if so it be given to them by Nature, to pass their lives without impediment, according to the law in which they were created, what then should let them also to live well, that is to say, happily? For whether we account this living well to consist, in the well behaving of yourselves, or in the due performing of our natural duty, we must also be contented, to impart the same unto beasts: To whom, it is both as possible to behave themselves well, and also to perform that special work of nature, as it is unto us. For example, let us first consider of musical birds: Wherein it cannot I think be denied, but that they among the rest do behave themselves well, for as naturally, they are taught, so duly they sing, and thereby it seemeth they may rightly be said, to follow a wished and well behaved kind of life. But if farther it be said, that there is also required a happy end to be made, which aught to consist in the last closing up and conclusion of nature: By the same very way, we must likewise confess they may be counted happy. For when, by course of kind they draw to their end, the ordinary motion of Nature doth cease in them, whereby she endeth that harmless life of there's, which from the first beginning to the departure of the same, she throughly performed. And therefore, if either in the natural ending of their lives, or in the due performance of the duty whereunto they were created, there remain any happiness: The● doubtless may beasts be said, to be both happy and blessed. All which, if it be true Lisippus, according as Plotinus hath set down the same, what then should hinder man, who hath all his affections, subject unto reason, and hath choose her to guide him in his actions, that he also, should not here enjoy that happiness of life. For, when the mind of man shall firmly despise, all the casual adventures of this transitory estate, and shall have brought, all her familiar causes to depend upon herself, supposing also all worldly affairs to be inferior unto Virtue, duly searching for that, than the which there may nothing be wished for better, that is to say Goodness, perfectness, and Justice: It is necessary then that it be void of perturbation, feeling in itself the fruit of tranquillity, and also of quietness, by mean whereof it becometh happy: Notwithstanding it be still abiding, within that frail and mortal body.  LISIPPUS. 
I think it altogether, inconueniente for me, to answer at this time to the saying of Plotinus, since the matter he held is in effect so absurd, that there is scarce any one to be found, that will together assent with him in the like. For verily for my own part, I am yet to learn, in what causes he would have well behaviour to be placed: But let us suppose that beasts for the purpose, do behave themselves well according to his saying, yet how may they by this reason be accounted happy, who do not only not know, the goodness of their felicity, but also are ignorant of their own estate: Or if they do understand it, yet do they (as the Philosophers affirm) but grossly, unperfectly, and obscurely understand the same. For although, it be common to them together with us, to love, to hate, to desire, to fear, to sorrow, and other such like: yet to foresee (which nature hath only given unto man) to discourse, to find out, or to remember any thing they possibly can not: Only that which soon passeth over, hath nature allowed them, that is to say, the imagination of things present: But for things that are paste, she hath given them a memory altogether confused, which never calleth any thing again to remembrance, except by the view of things that are present: So also for things that are to come, she hath likewise allowed them no knowledge at al. By what means then (if I may ask) may they be counted happy, whose case is such that they know not their own estate, neither yet are able to make any difference between good and evil? But now on the other side, as touching the state and condition of man, who liveth (I pray you) so orderly, that at no time feeleth any trouble of mind? what man so perfect that never yieldeth to his passion? who so singular, but if he avoid pride, covetousness possesseth his heart? If he shun covetousness, anger disquieteth his patience? if he suppress anger, gluttony delighteth his taste? if he eschew gluttony, envy consumeth his carcase? if he repulse envy, slothfulness overwhelmeth both soul and body. Whereby it cometh still to pass, that no man may be utterly found devoid of fault, for as the Poet saith: Each man that is by nature fed, is by his private pleasure led.  
Which since it is so, I see not my friends, how any man in this life may be accounted happy, unless perhaps we should reckon happiness, to consist in words that are wisely uttered, under honest & eloquent terms. The which if so it were, it would then come to pass, that such as have most learnedly discoursed of Virtue, should therefore be accounted more happy than others. But that this is not so, not only experience, but also Cicero himself in his Tusculans questions, avoucheth. How many Philosophers can you show me (says he) so honest in manners, so stayed in judgement, & order of life, as reason requireth. Who is he that obeyeth his own rules, or putteth his own precepts in practice? Some of them shall you ●ée, so full of boasting and vaunting, that it had been better for them, to have never learned the name of a letter: other covetous of money, other desirous of glory, and others made subject to their own lust, so as, their living and teaching are commonly contrary, which thing in my judgement is most untolerable. For as he that professeth himself a Grammarian, if he speak barbarously, or he, that challengeth the name of a physician, if he sing untunably, is the more to be reproved, because he offendeth in that very thing, wherein he would seem most skilful unto others: So likewise the Philosopher offending in the order of his life, is the more to be condemned, because he erreth in that part of duty, wherein his knowledge doth principally consist, and is faulty himself in that, in which he undertaketh to be a teacher of others. For, when true it is, that the substance of Philosophy doth consist, not in terms but in matter, it is a great shame for a man of knowledge, to have it objected unto him, that he is a Philosopher, not in works but in words. And therefore, it cometh verily to pass, that such men are not in deed, the true instructors of Virtue, because they are thereof destitute themselves. For if Philosophy be the study of Wisdom, as the learned have defined, and that Wisdom be nothing except it be put in practice, thereby to show forth her operation: It followeth then, that the doctrine of such teachers, is altogether barren and fruitless, because it worketh not that in them, which it is wont to do in the most part of those, of whom it is possessed. For Cicero nameth Philosophy, the manuring of the wit, which pulleth up all vice by the root, and maketh apt the mind to receive, the fruitful séed of Virtue, and as we may term it, planteth in us such pleasant fruit, as yieldeth in time a plentiful increase. Wherefore, by this it appeareth that the property of Philosophy, is rather to make her lovers to live well in public conversation, than to speak & teach well in private schools: Which thing, when by experience it frameth not accordingly, it thereby declareth such superficial Philosophers, to have rather studied this noble science, to the end to show forth the smoothness of their tongues, whereby to win the praise of the people, than for any good cause or consideration of living to be showed in themselves. Of whom, thus writeth Seneca, in his exhortations: Many Philosophers are eloquent (says he) to their own reproof, whom, i● so it were your chance, to hear them declaim, either against Covetousness, incontinency, ambition, or any other such like, you would verily suppose, that they sat in judgement of their own behaviours, so notoriously the reproaches they seem to utter against the doings of others, do recoil again to their own disgrace: Of whom, we aught to make none other account, than of common Apoticaries, upon whose boxes are outwardly they written the names of restoratives, when inwardly they are full of poison. Some of them besides are so strongly impudent, that no shamefastness may prevail to withdraw them from their wickedness, but that by shifting they rather seek, how cunningly to excuse and to defend their uncleanness, that so at the least wise they may seem to offend with some colour of honesty. Aristippus sometime Master of a sect of Philosophers named Cirenaicie, used for his pleasure to haunt the company of one Lays, a famous strumpet of Greece, which gross fault of his that great Doctor of philosophy did in this sort defend: Saying, that between him and the other of her lovers there was this difference, that where they were possessed by Lays, Lays was possessed by him. O, notable Wisdom, and Philosopher well worthy whom all men should follow: It were doubtless, a thing very necessary, to commit our children to such an instructor, that thereby they might learn, how at least wise to entertain a Courtesan. This learned wanton persuaded himself, that between him and the rest of her lovers, there was a marvelous odds, for that he, as he thought, without trouble or cost obtained his pleasure, when they on the other side, with labour and expense, did purchase repentance. In which very point (notwithstanding this difference) that subtle Harlot went somewhat beyond him, who in effect, made that counterfeit Philosopher her colourable bawd: that so by the daily example of so licentious a patron, all the youthful gentlemen of Greece, might thenceforth the rather frequent her company, and boldly adventure to follow their pleasure, without any regard either of shamefastness or modesty. Therefore these kind of instructor's (as I said before) sought not the way by the study of Philosophy, that leadeth unto Virtue, but only the way that leadeth to Delight: which thing, Cicero himself doth also testify. Verily, albeit (saith he) that the whole disputation of Philosophy, contain in itself a most abundant fountain of Virtue and knowledge, yet being compared with the doing and living of the Philosophers themselves, I doubt me, it hath rather brought unto them a vain delectation to their idle pleasures, than either profit or commodity to their honest affairs. But now let us farther consider, since occasion is proffered, how this famous enricher of the Roman language, behaved himself in his own adversity. He verily following the discipline of Panetius the Stoic, set down in writing the duty of each man exceedingly well, all which he comprehended under three Books. But how valiantly he himself did bear, either the death of his daughter, his own banishment, or the Monarchy of Cesar oppressing the public liberty, Titus Livius doth briefly declare: Of all his evil haps and adversities (sayeth he) he behaved himself like a man in none, save only in his death. To what purpose than I pray you, professed he the knowledge of Philosophy? Why thought he it necessary, to play the Philosopher at all times, and in all places, according to the opinion of Neoptolemus, as it is recorded in Ennius, if in his mind, he perceived no profit to arise by the same? for those that teach only, and do not accordingly, discredit their own teaching: Neither will any man obey him, who by his doings doth testify, that he is not worthy to be obeyed. Yet is it I confess a thing to be praised, in him that giveth such precepts of honesty, but unless the party perform the same in his own life, he proveth himself in effect but a liar: in whom it may be thought far unfit for his calling, to have honesty placed not in his heart, but in his lips, which contrariwise aught rather to consist, not in speech and tongue but in life and manners. For, if true it were that the Virtue of Philosophy, did at all consist in the substance of words: who might them (I pray you) have been accounted more happy, than the man himself of whom we speak, from whom all the glory of Roman eloquence had her only perfection? But that the force of Philosophy remains no where else than in a mind well disposed, himself also in his Tusculan disputations doth plainly witness, where wholly directing his talk to Philosophy, thus he writeth. O noble Philosophy, the guide of our life, the searcher out of Virtue and the expeller of vice, what were we, or what were the life of man, without thy aid and assistance? Thou (I say) were the first inventor of all good laws, the only teacher of learning, of manners, and of all good nurture. Wherein, if but accordingly we could put in practice all that we call honesty, so easily as we may talk & discourse of the same, should not then (I pray you) both we ourselves, and all other that have usurped the name of Philosophers, be judged happy? But the case in very deed standing thus, that Philosophy of itself requireth both living and doing well (which is hard to be achieved) rather than saying and speaking well, which may easily be attained: from hence, I say, it proceedeth, that many men have been contented with the only name and title of Virtue, when of the true intent and meaning thereof, they were altogether ignorant. Notwithstanding, in the true judgement of all men, he only is to be taken and accounted for wise, who in word and deed, both when thou seest him, & when thou hearest him, is always one and the same without alteration. But the fool on the other side (as Solomon saith) is changed like the Moon, now this in words, now that in action, declaring thereby the contrariety of his mind.  EUDO. 
Where a little before we reasoned (friend Lisippus) of the property of Virtue, and of that happiness which she bestoweth upon those, that guiding themselves by her wary order, live an honest and virtuous life: we were not (I remember) so far forth go, as to affirm, that any man could live devoid of fault (for this we know was the only and peculiar privilege of Christ our saviour) neither went we about to prove, that all men embraced Virtue: But this only we said, that if beasts, when they performed their natural operations, might be accounted happy, according to the former opinion of Plotinus, much more aught we then to judge the same of man, especially, if Reason have that pre-eminence in him as it aught, and that all his affections be subject still to her government. But, if to that which is spoken I may be lawfully suffered, upon better advisement to add one thing more, than thus I proceed. Albeit at some time, certain fond affections contrary to reason, do appear in us, yet so long as they prevail not, nor get the upper hand of reason, a man is not therefore to be esteemed either evil or unhappy: For without faults no man liveth, and he is best that is troubled with fewest. If this rule may but thus be granted, as in troth it is evident, then without question, we shallbe able to find out divers notable good men: For in all ages there have flourished many, who by their holy and just living, by their manifold and notable virtues (for diverse are the gifts which the Sovereign God poureth down upon his people) have deserved great honour and estimation in the world. Of which number it shall not, I think be amiss, if I repeat in this place some few. And first, what say we of Socrates? who so manly demeaned himself in all his actions, that at no time, either in adversity or prosperity, his countenance was found to be altered: Neywas it at all in him to be marveled, since so lightly he esteemed the very terror of death, that when opportunity was conveniently offered him to have escaped the same, he utterly refused the advantage thereof: knowing right well, that death was only dreadful unto those, with whose mortal life all glory, all honour, and all estimation did utterly perish, and not unto those, whose Virtue and renown was always lasting and could never decay: for he, according unto Reason applied his doctrine to the bettering of his life, accounting the substance of Philosophy to consist, in the equal choice between good and evil: beside, in this one point be showed himself more wise than the rest, in that, he withdrew the course of his disputation, from the searching out of celestial and supernatural causes, wherein many have heretofore spent, both their wit and their time to no purpose at all. What of Pythagoras? who showed himself as a spectacle to the world, both of learning and Virtue, and who among other his manifold gifts was of modesty so great, that being demanded by what surname of honour he would be called, refused the title which others his inferiors had taken upon them, and that, which in those days was common to all such as were learned, choosing rather to be called, not Sophos but Philosophos, not wise, but a searcher and lover of Wisdom. What of Plato? who though he were accounted of all the wisest, and also attained to so wonderful perfection of learning and eloquence, as if jupiter himself would have descended from the heavens, he could never have used a more copious style: yet notwithstanding, he refused the title of his own glory whereunto he had right, and ascribed the honour of all his works unto Socrates his Master, showing thereby himself no less commendable for demeanour, than honourable for his knowledge. What of Cato the elder? who in the judgement of all men was accounted, the very image of Virtue, the honour of the Romans, and the stay of the whole Empire: he I mean, whose name and Virtue was after supported by Cato the younger, that noble and princely son of his. What of Seneca? who was of stomach so stout, that with patience he mastered the very terror of death, when by the commandment of Nero the tyrant, he was thereunto enforced. What of Fabricius the Roman? a man so sincere and upright of mind, that not with the vehement temptation of gold itself, he was able to be corrupted: who first (as the story affirmeth) refused the large and mighty proffers of Pyrrhus, esteeming it more worthy and more worth than a kingdom, to neglect and contemn the bribes of a King: And after, when the proffer was made him for the secret dispatch of that Roman enemy, he would not only not suffer the same to be done, but gave him warning himself of the treason pretended, adding thereunto these words that follow. Enjoy thy longer life, by this my means (O Pyrrhus) and be now glad of that which thou haste heretofore lamented, that is, that Fabricius thy enemy would not be corrupted. To conclude, many other there have been, who albeit they have crred in some points like men, yet wholly in their minds they still embraced Virtue, by whose means their lives were both Blessed and Happy: at all times so behaving themselves, that of their sayings and doings, there still remaineth to the world, a perpetual remembrance. So then on the other side, though many there have been besides, who have not so sufficiently been able, to perform the same in action, whereof, they have so gloriously talked: yet notwithstanding, it can not therefore I think be denied, but that these men did also great good in the world, while disputing of Virtue, they opened the way by their wholesome precepts, how other might more easily attain to the same. For, if the life of learned men were answerable in all points to the manner of their doctrine, who were to be accounted so happy as they? but, we must remember, that they entreat of Virtue and not of themselves: they reason not how they dee live, but how they and all other aught generally to live, setting also the mark before our eyes whereat we must ●ouell: the success whereof, though at all times it prove not accordingly, by reason of the frailty and weakness of our flesh, yet the honest intent and purpose of good men, hath been always accounted praise worthy of the wise. Wherein, this certainly soundeth very greatly 〈◊〉 praise, that by the government of Reason, they have at least wise found out for the benefit of man, what is best to be done, and what to be avoided, seeking further, and that with all their might, how to perform the same in their own behaviour, and according to their powers to live well themselves. LISIP. You dispute Eudoxus very earnestly, seeking to withdraw me from mine opinion, by many good and pithy reasons, wherein, although you have diligently laboured, you have not yet brought me to be of your judgement. For this is to me an assured ground, that nothing in this world may make a man Happy, considering, that the ordinary course of our life is but short, and that we are all made thrall unto misery: Where on the other side, Hppinesse itself is wholly made perfect, having nothing that may trouble or diminish the same. So as, not any thing in my opinion may be accounted Happy, that is not void of Corruption, and there is nothing Uncorruptible that is not Immortal, whereby I conclude, that no mortal creature may here attain to this blissfulness of life, as you would have it, but rather, so long as he abideth on the earth, I think him most miserable: neither, do I only not take him to be Blessed, but that he cannot be accounted so much as Happy, chief, so long as he remains within this troublesome body, the which, to the end it may be dissolved, it is necessary first that it be corrupted: but then only shall he enjoy this Felicity, when his soul being free from the trouble of the flesh, shall live wholly in Spirit. Yet this I deny not, but that God, who recompenseth our well doing with an incomparable reward, hath so ordained, that they which here in the daily miseries & adversities of this world behave themselves well, and eschewing the enticing baits of pleasure, give themselves wholly with all their endeavour to the exercise of Virtue, painfully wading throughout all the dangers and troubles of adversity to attain to the same: that they I say, even here in this life shall receive at his hands, a certain pledge of their blissfulness to come, whereby their travails may seem unto them less grievous and heavy. Which pledge I mean, to be the confidence and hope that in them remaineth, joyfully to attain to that eternal glory which by his word he hath promised: whereof evil men on the otherside, by occasion of their naughtiness, see themselves to be deprived, so as, by the terror of their wickendnesse which they have wilfulfullye committed, they live always in fear, which fear of there's, so troubleth and disquieteth their guilty minds, that they always stand in dread of the vengeance of God: Whereupon it followeth, that they suspect every thing, they stand in fear of every thing, and that Death is to them so hateful an enemy, that if it were possible, they would never so much as think of the same: the remembrance whereof, if by chance or occasion it fall into their minds, forthwith they tremble and become so fearful, that they are therewithal bereaved of all their quietness: So very far differing hath God divided, the state of good men and evil men asunder.  TALES. 
By this reason it seemeth then, that we may lawfully confute the opinion of those, who say that Virtue is the greatest Good, or Felicity itself. For Virtue as I take it, is not in deed that sole and sovereign Good, but rather a worker and procurer of the same, forasmuch as thereto we cannot attain, without the help and assistance of Virtue. For, as Vice itself although it be evil, yet is not that extreme & most pestiferous Evil, so Virtue, although it be Good, yet is it not that sole and Self good which we call Felicity, since Self good is that, which needeth not the assistance of any other superior Good: but Virtue we find, that it craveth the help of a further Good, and therefore it may not (as I have said) be termed Felicity: but rather a step or degree, whereby we ascend unto the majesty of God, who is in deed, that undoubted, the most excellent, and most sovereign Good, to the which, by the way of Virtue (as the Philosophers term it) we are gloriously advanced. Therefore to conclude, that inferior Good which we call Virtue, aught not to be called that sole and sovereign Good, since by the same we only ascend, to a far superior and more celestial Good than itself, that is, to Felicity. Notwithstanding, these ancient Philosophers being altogether ignorant of the true effect and office of Virtue, and whereto it tendeth, finding nothing besides, whereof to account and to esteem more precious, contented themselves with the only title and reputation of the same, which they said, was to be sought and desired, without any hope, of advantage or profit to be gained thereby: and so, made that thelt chief and principal Good, because they knew no other more celestial or superior Good, whereupon to repose the hope of their Felicity. But doubtless, 
Where●n Virtue doth chief by consist.  the true benefit and estimation of Virtue, consisteth wholly, In the patiented suffering of adversity, as poverty, imprisonment, grief, banishment, loss of friends, and such like: and then only is it most absolute and perfect, when after these calamities the mind is made contented, voluntaryly to suffer the sharpest punishment of Death, chiefly, if either Reputation or Reason shall so require the same: showing thereby, a contempt of Life which others embrace, and a love of Death which moste men do fear. And therefore, since otherwise it can not be, but that in am of this labour great guerdon must be hoped (for that pains undertaken unto Death, can not pass without reward) and that no reward sufficyente to countervail the same may be found upon the Earth, for that, such resolute demeanour despiseth all frail and transitory toys: What then remaineth, but that from contempt of these Earthly matters, taking regard of more heavenly affairs, we aspire unto the hope of some celestial recompense, which is nothing else then Immortality, wherein, that sovereign Good, which we call Felicity, is only to be found, the which is therefore accounted Blessed, because, it can neither Perish nor be corrupted. So that, if a man may be Virtuous, (which can not be denied) then may he be Blessed, (for it cannot be, that he may possibly be accounted Unhappy, that is endued with Virtue) and if he may be Blessed, he may be also Immortal, from whence this Blessedness doth only spring: but the same we can not enjoy, so long as we live in this transitory world, which is full of change and alteration, for that our life and our works are both subject to decay. And therefore Lisippus, I truly for my part am also of opinion, that you have rightly judged of the Blessed and Happy life: For the Philosophers themselves when they talk of a Wise man, they describe him to be such as is not to be found, in the ordinary course and practise of our life, but rather they feign him to represent such a one, as were to be imagined or wished for: As for example when they say, A wise man is troubled with no kind of passion: and again, He that hath Virtue, wanteth nothing requisite, to a blessed and happy life: So likewise, to live blessedyle and happily, is nothing else, than to live honestly and virtuously: by these and such other their sayings, they note unto us, such a a special and precise kind of Wisdom, as no mortal creature hath ever achieved. LISIPPUS. True it is Tales that you have spoken, for if any man might reach that perfect Wisdom, he should thereby also become Blessed, but because no man hath hitherto attained to the same, this Felicity is therefore of right reserved, for those divine and celestial souls of good men, who being set free from the bondage of their bodies, are by God, advanced for their Good and Virtuous living, into the fellowship of Angels, where by reason of the glorious sight of his divine presence, they have the fruition of that eternal Blissfulness, whereof, we have hitherto spoken. But for this our transitory life, it may conveniently be called a Theatre, wherein trial is made, by God the creator of all things, of the good and evil demeanour of all men, who promises a just and merciful reward unto each man, according to his desert.  TALES. 
Now therefore to proceed, let us next (if so it like you) set down a more perfect definition of Virtue. 
A brief repetition of that, which is already spoken.  We have first declared how these ancient Philosophers, who were of all other then living accounted the wisest, myssed the true effect and knowledge thereof: We have after noted, wherein it seemeth principally to consist, that is, in the patiented suffering of adversity: And lastly, we have likewise expressed what is the true and perfect end thereof, and that it can not be our chief and sovereign Good, for that our chiefest Good, is the final recompense and reward of Virtue. It remaineth therefore necessary, that we now set down a more proper definition thereof: which thing, although it would have rather been performed before, even in the first beginning of our talk, yet the manner of this our disputation, caused us somewhat to altar the common course and accustomed order. It is therefore, my friends, to be consequently noted, 
The second definition of 〈◊〉.  that Virtue is always one & the self same thing, notwithstanding, that according to the diversity of matters wherein it is handled, it taketh diverse names: As the Virtue of a man is to be able to manedge all manner his affairs, of a woman to govern and dispose the house, of a soldier to be valiant and forward in battle, of a husbandman to know the nature of his ground, and how to manure the same: In like manner, the Virtue of a young man, of an old man, of a freeman, and a bond man, are different no less in condition, for as Plato sayeth, according to the difference of their actions and ages, so diverse are the Virtues that are found in them. LISIPPUS. Verily Tales, then have we in my opinion been greatly fortunate, in this our brief disputation, for where we sought but for one only Virtue, we have now found out a whole world of Virtues to be resiant among men. TA. This opinion of yours Lisippus, can not be true, for as there is but one kind of Health, wherewith all men are made Healthful, and one kind of Greatness, whereby all men are made Great, and one kind of Strength whereby all men are made strong: So all men are made Virtuous by one kind of Virtue, and are all made Good by one kind of Goodness, for that in all things whatsoever, there is in troth, but one only substance of Virtue, notwithstanding, that it may severally possess diverse variable names, agreeable to the matters wherein it is conversant. For, as all kind of Sickness in the truth of Nature is in effect but one, although, when it is in the hands we call it Chiragra, 
Chiragra, Podagra, & Cephalea, are three several names of the Gout.  when in the legs Podagra, and when in the head Cephalea, whereby according to the diversity of our members diseased, it is diversly called: So also of Virtue, although when it searcheth out the truth of each matter, and warily maketh choice between profitable and unprofitable, and between good and evil, we call it by the name of Prudence: when it laboureth about the maintaining of human Society, and yieldeth to every man that which is due, using uprightness in sales and bargains, we call it by the name of Justice: when it consists in the courage and valour of an unvincible heart, we call it by the name of Fortitude: when likewise it pertaineth to the orderly disposition of our sayings and doings, we call it by the name of Modesty: yet, are all these in truth, but one only Virtue. Therefore, to deliver you my mind more plainly, what manner of thing it is, thus as I take it, it may best be defined: That Virtue is nothing else, than a good constitution of the soul and mind. 
The third definition of Virtue.  For the obtaining whereof this is to be noted, that it is not to be got by Greatness of strength, which shortly decayeth: nor by Beautiful looks, which will soon fade away: nor by abundance of wealth, whereof we have no assurance: nor by Sharpness of wit, for that, by how much the more crafty and subtle a man is, so much the more suspected and hateful is his life, if therewithal he want the estimation of honesty: nor finally by Sweet and amorous pleasures, which being the professed enemies of Virtue, do wholly withdraw our minds from the same: But, it is doubtless poured down upon us from above, 
Virtue, is only given us by God.  by the liberal beneficence of the heavenly powers. In comparison whereof, since nothing in this world may be found so beautiful, what followeth then (I pray you) but as Vice on the one side for the deformity thereof is to be abhorred and avoided, so Virtue on the other side for the dignity thereof, ought the rather to be desired: by the assistance whereof, we must earnestly labour to obtain that, than the which, nothing may be desired more excellent: that is to say, a mind both good, noble, and rightly disposed, which being so qualified, is not otherwise to be esteemed, than as a very God, labouring and travailing in the body of a Man Touching whom, as an evil person turneth all things to the worst, so he on the contrary useth all things to the best, as Richeses, Strength, Wit, and whatsoever he hath beside, either of himself or of Fortune. For all these, are nothing else than instruments of force, serving the Wicked to the ruin of themselves, and also of others, and the Good, not only to their own advantage, but to the general profit and commodity of all men. So that the manner of the doing thereof, teacheth us by what name the act is to be called: for that which is well done is termed Honest, and that which is evil done is termed Unhonest. As for example: Eloquence when it is well used, there is nothing more praise worthy, nothing more commendable, nor nothing more fit, either to stir up admiration in those that shall hear us, to confirm the hope of those that shall need us, or to win the favour and good will of those that shall be defended by us: but when it is abused, nothing is then more hurtful than the same, whereof, this writeth Cicero, in the preface of his books de inventione: I have oft times mused with myself (saith he) whether Eloquence have been occasion, of more good or harm to the state of m●n, and to the maintenance of common weals: for when on the one side I call unto my remembrance, the diverse calamities of the Roman Empire, & the lamentable subversion of many flourishing estates, I then perceive a great part of such distress, to have only proceeded from men of great eloquence: when after on the other side I call to mind again, by the record of ancient monuments, things done long since, far beyond the age and remembrance of man, I find, that many Cities have been founded, many wars ceased, many leagues concluded, & many friendships joined, partly by Wit and Policy, but chief by Eloquence. By long debating whereof, in fine I am thus resolved, That wisdom without eloquence may but smally advantage, & that eloquence without wisdom, may many times harm, but seldom profit. Wherefore, if any man neglecting the study of Philosophy, whereby Duty is to be learned & Wisdom increased, will wholly spend his time in the exercise of Oratory, what other benefit may thereof arise, but that thereby he shall become, an unprofitable friend to himself, & a dangerous member to the common Wealth. But he, that furnisheth himself with Eloquence, to the intent to bend the force thereof, not to assault, but to defend and maintain the wealth of his country, he I say (in my judgement) seems a member very profitable, both privately for his friends, and generally for the whole estate. Wherefore, the Mind of man aught first to be well instructed, for from thence our reasons, from thence our words, and from thence the conformity of our body, 
Albina our dispositions are governed by the mind.  both for countenance and behaviour do proceed: And certain it is, that the whole disposition of our life, is tempered and proportioned only by our Mind, and by it is wholly governed. For, if the Mind be well and in good plight, our talk, our manners, and all the rest of our demeanour, shall be fitting and convenient, for the credit of an honest man: But, if the Mind be weak and evil disposed, than all things come presently to ruin and decay. For the avoiding whereof, it is necessary first that we flee to the succour of the Liberal sciences, and after, to the comfortable admonition of Divine knowledge, since the Mind is not otherwise strengthened, than by good letters, and by the consideration of things natural: For, the goodness of the Mind which we call Virtue (the which, as before we have declared, falls down from above) is toubtlesse maintained and increased by Study. Whereunto, that thereby the rather we should employ ourselves with pleasure and delight, it is ordained from the first, that all men by a special instinct of Nature are desirously given to learn, and are drawn on by Kind to a singular love & desire of knowledge: wherein, as to pass all others they account it a thing of great estimation, so on the other side, to slide, to err, to be ignorant, or to be deceived, they reckon it as a matter of great disgrace. For this occasion Nature hath the rather given us a curious & searching wit, who being privy to her own Art and excellency, hath purposely appointed us that only beholders, of all such her miraculous works, as appears in the world: to this intent (as it seemeth) that by the regard of such rare and wondered sights both in heaven and on earth, we might yield unto God such honour in the same, that the excellency of his works made subject to our knowledge, might not covertly pass away without some testimony of his Glory: All which he created to none other end it appeareth, than that by the view of such visible things, we might intellectually ascend to the farther consideration of things invisible: who although he hath made & subjecteth to our use all the inferior creatures of the earth, yet is not this the cause of our greatest wonder: But, it is rather a thing far surpassing the rest, that by the knowledge thereof he leadeth us on, to a farther understanding of things more Divine: with the rare opinion & imagination whereof, we are moved to search into farther causes, than are usually subject to the view of the eye: whereby the rather we are brought by degrees, into a greater admiration of the handyworks of God, & from thence at last, unto the reverence & worship of his holy name: for he knoweth best how to do him worship, that hath most understanding of his omnipotent power, since perfectly & wholly, it is unpossible he may be comprehended of any man, as the scripture affirmeth. The study therefore of Divine letters, is wont in such sort to dispose the Reason & understanding of our Senses, that if the mind of a good man were possible to be seen, we should doubtless found a like perfection in the same, as remains in those bodies that are above the Moon, where all things are both clear & bright, without either tempest or trouble. For albeit he live here, among the manifold miseries & calamities of this world, yet as the Sun, whose beams though they shine upon divers sluttish & uncleanly places, do gather notwithstanding no corruption from the same: so he, assisted always with the help of God, notwithstanding he daily remain among the contagious allurements of Vice, preserveth himself still perfect & clean. Yet this I would not have you to look for at his hands, that if for the maintenance of any quarrel, yea touching the honour of god himself, he were cruelly enclosed, within the scorching bull of Phaleris the tyrant, he should arrogantly say together with Epicurus, that it were sweet and pleasant. For many there be that are rather endued with an hardness of heart, than with any noble or manful courage, who will not stick to affirm, that a wiseman hath no feeling of grief: But such men seem never to have tasted thereof themselves, or otherwise experience would have removed them in time, from that their fond & arrogant opinion, & no less enforced than, though sore against their wills, to have confessed the truth. For as to have a sense & feeling of grief, is incident to the nature of all men, so to endure the same with stoutness of courage, is the property only of him that is valiant. This (I say) is he, that will patiently suffer any punishments whatsoever: & yet not so, but that he must still confess, to have a natural motion and feeling thereof. And therefore (my friends) such as in this sort do rightly know how to seek after Virtue, and having thereto attained how to order the same, seem verily in my mind men worthy for God: in whom, to the example of others he may apparently make proof, how much the nature of man is able to suffer, for the maintenance of Virtue and Honesty. For doubtless a good man is inferior but a little, to those heavenly spirits that are above, and is only said, to be the true disciple and assured offspring of God himself: Whom that magnificent Father, as one, that exactly requireth the good life of his children, bringeth upto goodness and discipline, according to the manner of such as are accounted both wise and severe parents. But let us for the purpose admit that some of those that are very well learned, do wilfully abuse that their skill and knowledge, as well in matters of Humanity, as also Philosophy, from whence there may (as we have already declared) so many commodities to good purpose proceed: yet the sciences themselves, aught not as I take it to be therefore disproved, though ignorant people do discommend the same, unadvisedly speaking according to their knowledge, and that in matters of greater importance, than are any way subject to their barbarous capacity: who never more notably do publish their folly, then when most they would seem to be cunning in all things. For nothing truly, may appear more gross and absurd to be granted, than because at sometime through our own abuse they hurt us, therefore to condemn the singular gifts and ornaments of Nature: which if it were tolerable, what thing (I pray you) so evidently ●ending to the benefit of man may there be found, but that the misdemeanour of evil people, may perversely apply to the contrary. For, if so we shall weigh the gifts of nature, by the behaviour of those upon whom they are bestowed, it will then appear, that we have received nothing from her at all, but that which tendeth to the hurt and hindrance of ourselves. For example, who by this means may account it a commodity to see, or to speak? to whom shall not life itself (than the which, we hold nothing more dear) be thought a very torment full of misery? But it is in truth so far beyond reason, thus to reprove either the benefits of Nature, or of Arts, or of Sciences, or of any kind of Knowledge, and that for no other occasion, than for the misbehaviour only of those, that perversely use them to their wicked intentes: as if we should condemn the Art of Oratory, for the faulty life of some licentious Orator. For albeit these good Arts, do not of themselves adorn our minds, with the present possession of Virtue, yet do they prepare us, and make us apt, as we have saydbefore, to receive the same: Neither, could God have given us any other thing, more fit & convenient to say the foundation, for so great a benefit. Thus much at this time I have thought it convenient to speak of Virtue, and you (my friends) I do farther exhort, that nothing than the same you esteem more dear, & that withal you prefer no worldly benefit before her: Than the which, though nothing more grave, nothing more divine, nor nothing more plentiful, may be found to be spoken of, yet I doubt not, but many things I have overslipped, that might well have been remembered, because you suddenly enforced me (being altogether unprovided) to discourse upon a cause of so great importance.  EUD. 
Therefore Tales, since on the sudden you have so learnedly disputed upon so difficult a question, we may easily coniceture what farther success, by longer continuance is to be hoped for at your hands: such truly as not without cause, the most reverent Potentates of this our common wealth, do greatly regard. For as in all other things you are sufficiently provided, so by this your orderly and well piled communication, you have greatly satisfied and persuaded my fancy, and no less as I take it, the liking of Lisippus, but for myself I assure you, you have fully brought me, to be of your opinion: and verily I believe that all those, that rightly deem of Virtue as they aught, cannot but yield unto you the same. LISIP. And I for my part Tales, do the rather agree with you in opinion concerning Virtue, for that Aristotle himself, and also diverse other well learned Philosophers, have so in effect defined of the same: saying, that Virtue is a good quality of the mind, got by use and exercise. 
The last definition of Virtue  For as the professors of other arts, so soon as they begin to learn their principles, are not forthwith entitled by the names of those sciences, wherein they seem to have a little proceeded, but after, when by continuance they appear to have very well profited, them at the last they borrow to themselves, the surnames and titles of those learned maisteryes, wherein they have made some proof of their skill, and are therewithal beautified with such other ornaments, as seem of right to belong unto the same: so they that endeavour themselves to the getting of Virtue, if perchance they perform some two or three notable and singular exploits, are not therefore strait ways to be accounted Good, or to be called Honest, but then only are they to receive the recompense of that reward, when both by continuance and long experience, they have thoroughly attained to such singular perfection, that in each kind of Fortune either prosperous or adverse, they can patiently carry one always and the same undisturbed mind, observing that in their manner, which in Horace is there spoken to Quintus Delius.  
O Delius thou, to dreadful death, that subject art each day:  
In adverse chance, of Fortune's frown, thy mind see that thou stay.  
And eke no less, in prosperous hap, so temper thy estate:  
That out of rule, and measure thou, ne joy above thy rate.  
Wherein, for as much also as all our power, appeareth to be placed either in Mind or Body, if therefore using rather the authority of the Mind, than the service of the Body, we remember with ourselves that the one of these twain we have common with beasts, the other with God, understanding that Virtue is also in our reach & power to obtain, & that, when by occasion thereof we shall have thoroughly brought all our fleshly desires and earthly vanities, in us to be perfectly oppressed, our victorious souls shall joyfully then return unto God, that is to the first original, from whence they proceeded. For which occasion, Man only, among all other creatures, hath his countenance upwards towards heaven, thereby to put us in mind, that our chiefest good cometh down from above. Therefore to conclude, when thus by diligence they have won unto themselves, an assured quality of a well disposed mind, than I say upon good occasion, they may well be called Honourable, Valiant, and Wise, and not before. But for as much, as the praise of Virtue consists in Action, I see not my masters, how a man that liveth in these Solitary places, may have any practice thereof at all. And therefore it were now time (if so you please) that we return again unto our principal question, 
Thus far concerning Virtue, and now of Solitariness and Society.  that is, to the farther consideration of Solitariness. What say you Eudoxus, how like you this motion?  EUDO. 
It liketh me my friend very well, for as you say, it were necessary in deed, after this our long discourse upon Virtue, that we reduce our talk again unto that, which was the only occasion of all our controversy. And to be short, I will first declare unto you my opinion, what I think of the matter: touching which though many things I confess may on both sides be spoken, yet for my own part I am fully persuaded, that more may be alleged, in the commendation of Solitariness, than of Society. In plainer proof and declaration whereof, you doubt not I am sure, but that the name of Solitariness is naturally derived, from this word Sole, or alone: which manner of living seemeth not of itself so much to be praised, as in respect of the fréenesse and liberty of our mind, which is more when we live alone than with company. And yet my meaning is not to have ittaught, that by Nature we are made so rude, as wholly with out cause to avoid Society: for by this occasion, both the bond of Nature, and the commandment of God, which bindeth us in friendship to love one an other, may seem to be loosed. But when indifferently I weigh with myself, the common condition of human Society, I see among men, that generally to be accounted for Honest, which is falsely supposed to be Profitable, and that all men for the most part, by separating Profit from Honesty, endeavour thereby to overthrow the platform and ground work of Nature, than which there is nothing that may be counted more hurtful. For with y● vain estimation and love of riches, are the manners of men marvelously corrupted, that nothing may be found so vile but they dare to adventure, if thereby they may hope to attain unto that, which so earnestly they desire. By occasion whereof, these miserable creatures driven on in this sort by the force of evil custom, having willingly unlosed the bridle of Reason, are plunged at the last in the depth of all wickedness: whose unshamefastness is such, that boldly and impudently they daily commit great offence against God, against themselves, and against their neighbours: so as, it is unpossible for any man, (although in eloquence he were comparable to Demosthenes) to describe all their vices and madness. All which, if god should daily punish according to desert, what chains, what prisons, what whips, or what torments would be able to suffice for the same. Besides, another thing there is, but whether it rather deserve to be laughed at or lamented I know not, I mean, that small and petite robberies are severally punished, when great and horrible offences are praised and commended: which was very well noted by a notable pirate, who falling to the hands of Alexander the great, made answer to him in his own defence, that the greater rover & pirate of them both was Alexander himself, for that where the one did offend for trifles, the other daily rob and spoiled whole countries. These worldlings being therefore carried diversely away, some with greediness of Pleasure, some with love of Richeses, and some with desire of Honour, having banished from their hearts, all these wholesome rules and admonitions of Reason, by the which, they aught chief to be governed, and making at all no account of innocency, seem most I say to esteem of those things, which are wont among fools to be accounted for good. So as to all those of this our time that live in such sort, this saying of Ovid may rightly be applied.  
For when of this our wicked age, 
Translated by Arthure G●lding gentleman in the first book of the Metamorphosis.  once opened was the vain,  
Then, then, all mischief rushed forth, then faith and truth were feign,  
And honest shame to hide their heads: for whom stepped stoutly in,  
Craft, treason, violence, envy, pride, and wicked lust to win.  
So now for riches 'gan they dig, in places near to hell,  
The spurs and stirrers unto vice, and foes to doing well.  
Then hurtful iron came abroad, then came forth yellow gold,  
Moore hurtful than the iron far, then came forth battle bold,  
That fights with both, & shakes his sword, with cruel bloody hand.  
Men live by ravin and by stealth, the wandering guest doth stand,  
In danger of his host: the host, in danger of his guest:  
And fathers of their sons in law: yea seldom times do rest,  
Between born brothers such accord, and love as aught to be.  
The goodman seeks the goodwifes' death, and his again seeks she.  
The stepdames fell, their husband's sons with poison do assail,  
To see their fathers live so long, the children do bewail.  
All godliness lies underfoot, and Lady Justice last,  
Of heavenly Virtues from this earth, in slaughter drowned, past.  
Now, the case standing thus, what Happiness I pray you may we imagine, to remain on the earth? the Poet you see doth apparently witness, that all Goodness being put to flight, is already ascended unto heaven. The which, if god would so please to command again to descend unto the earth: where think you then would she choose her abiding, but in some Solitary wilderness? For there, living in continual meditation, she might conveniently declare to all such, as would so desire to understand the same, both what were Good and what were Evil: she might also teach us, that Vice for the loathsomeness thereof were to be abhorred, and Virtue for her dignity to be embraced: she might likewise admonish us to love & worship God, wherein she might either threaten us, with the terrible fear of his everlasting torments, or allure us, with the omnipotent excellency of his divine Majesty, or win us, with the singular love of his merciful charity, or entreat us, with the pleasant remembrance of his infinite benefits, or finally, she might fully persuade us, that he created the world for none other intent, but only that thereby he might make us partakers, of his glorious Felicity. For proof whereof, (leaving in this place to meddle with Divinity) we will only consider, what the ancient Philosophers have said of the same, and first of Seneca. Do you demand (says he) what was the cause why God made the world? I answer, his goodness: which thing he farther avoucheth, from the opinion of Plato, where thus he disputeth. What caused god to make the world? he is good, he maketh good things, and envieth not good men, to have part of that good wherewith he is stored. Furthermore, whereas he charges us, to exercise pity towards our parents, our friends, our country, and generally unto all men, where also he willeth us, to deal no worse with others, than we would be dealt withal ourselves: yet principally and chief he moveth us, to have a continual regard to the due preservation of our just and honest minds: in the maintenance whereof he adviseth us farther boldly to adventure, and commit our bodies to the greatest terror and torment of Death, both when and as often, as Reason shall seem needful to require the same. Otherwise he willeth us as carefully to take heed, that we endanger not ourselves without occasion, than the which, there may be nothing accounted more desperate and foolish. For dangers aught only to be undertaken for one of these causes, either for the maintenance of our estimation in the World, or for the preservation of our Faith unspotted towards God. After this sort therefore I mean, that in these desert and Solitary places, honest manners, right judgement, and all other good Virtues may conveniently be learned. Where on the other side, when by Desire we are carried away to dwell abroad, in the common Society & fellowship of the world, all the contrary occasions of Vice, to us are daily proffered. For the common concourse of the multitude, nought else to us commendeth, but Covetousness, Pleasure, and desire of honour, whereto all men for the most part are enthralled as servants. Which opinion of there's, if happy we shall but seem to disallow, forthwith they become our most hateful enemies: whereupon, they presently begin to slander and to revile us, ●s fools condemned to be void of all wit: and to increase our displeasure, they despitefully point at us (as we may term it) with their fingers. Upon which occasion, a certain wise man misliking of their madness, said thus of himself, that he never desired at all to please the variable liking and fantasy of the people: For quoth he, What I know to be good that they esteem not, & what they commend, thereof I like not, because, the opinion of the people is gained for the most part, by some evil desert: to whom of necessity if thou haunt their company, thou must make thyself like, for that the favour of such dishonest people, is not otherways to be obtained, than by dishonest means▪ But, let us now go somewhat more plainly to work, and let us as well set down the trade of his life, that liveth alone in his solitary Muses, as of him that liveth in the fellowship of many, and is conversant daily among his worldly affairs. He therefore that is a dealer in the world, so soon as the day beginneth to apere, hath his gates beset either with friends or foes: He is saluted, he is called for, he is drawn away, he is thrust upon, & he is torn as it were in many pieces. The Solitary person, his doors the while are not so troubled, he hath free choice, either to stay at home, to walk abroad, or at liberty to go wheresoever he lusteth. That man goeth forth to the place of pleading, with a sad and louring countenance, full of complaints, full of business, yea full of trouble, and so beginneth the day with strife & debate. This man goeth out with a cheerful heart, directing his course into some pleasant wood, full of security, full of rest, and full of quietness, where with joy and gladness, he consumeth the morning. The one, so soon as he commmeth to the stately palace of some noble person, or to the dreadful seat of judgement (mingling truth and falsehood together,) either oppresseth the just & rightful cause of the guiltless or upholdeth the wicked and unhonest pretence of him that is guilty, or at the lest wise worketh somewhat, tending either to the discredit of himself, or to the harm of some other: the remorse of whose conscience as many times it biteth him, so the fear of his folly likewise interrupteth him, whereby it cometh many times to pass, that he telleth lies for true tales, and one thing for another, at one time blushing for fear, at an other time after as pale again for anger, yea blaming himself in the midst of this passion, that he had not rather followed the private penury of his contemplative liberty, than the public estimation of his toilesom authority, & therewithal wisheth (as then advised) that he had rathe been made a miserable Ploughman, than a pontifical Pleader: who as one out of countenance and conceit with his practice, leaveth then on a sudden all his causes unperfect, and shamefully withdraweth him unto his desolate lodging, where shutting him up into some private corner, he shroudeth secretly from the sight of all his clientes. The other again, as a man without trouble or care of the world, finding out some Green and Solitary bank, amid some calm and pleasant down, there rests and reposeth himself at his pleasure, who so soon as the Sun spreadeth forth his beams, beginneth devoutly to give thanks unto God not only for the same, but also for all other his merciful benefits, bestowed upon man: the which he performeth with a far more sweet & pleasant delight, if therewithal there hap among the rocks to run down some gushing silver stream, or if the small and harmless birds, do but yield him the help of their tunable notes, to aid him in the comfort of his contemplative devotion: wherein, he principally craveth at the hands of God, Sincerity & innocency, together with one thing more, the which (as saith the Satirical Poet,) may safely be required without danger of offence, that is, A wholesome mind in a healthful body. This done, knowing after that the study of Philosophy, bringeth with it great knowledge and excellency, he diligently applieth his mind to the same, and laboureth chief to make himself perfect in that part of Virtue, which wholly concerneth the well finding out and following of Truth, desiring nothing so much, as that in the sight of God he may always appear, both honest and blameless, and that he may delight himself in the exercise of Virtue, which only yieldeth a perpetual comfort and safety to his conscience, knowing well that the same, is the only ground work and foundation of Goodness, and that it were wholly in vain, to repose his trust in any worldly trifle, since he only may well be thought, to have attained perfection, that certainly knoweth wherein he aught chief to take pleasure and delight, and whose Felicity consists not in the power of others. For this is certain, that all men by Nature, are prove unto Pleasure, but where our best assured Pleasure may rightly be found, thereof for the most part we are altogether ignorant. A wise man therefore that knoweth in this sort, how to behave himself in his Solitary places, is undoubtedly replenished with continual gladness, and liveth therein, both merrily and pleasantly, and as it may be said, is fellowlike in a kind with God himself: to whom, he prayeth not only for the safety of himself and his own estate alone, but for the general aid and prosperity of all men. Now therefore I pray you, which of these twain, may be thought in your judgement, to live most happily?  LISIP. 
Of all that you have spoken, I think there is no man my friend that doubteth, since in troth they are clearer in sight than the Sun: For every man knoweth that the number is infinite, of such as are ruled rather by their Appetite than by Reason. But since our talk, concerneth at this time the state of a wise man, who for as much, as one man is born for the benefit of an other, and that it is the property of Virtue to suffer Adversity, as before we have declared, aught therefore to do each thing, with no less regard of his Profit and Honesty, than his Praise and Estimation, here re●●steth (I say) the question: Whether it were more convenient for this man to lurk in some Solitary corner, or otherwise to be conversant in the affairs of the world. Wherein, if I shall say my mind what I think of the matter, I am for my own part of a contrary opinion to that which is spoken, especially, since the fruit of our Wit, our Virtue, our Learning, and every other good quality of ours, is then said to be chief commended, when it is employed to the benefit of our neighbous: And that God himself hath appointed his creatures, to live together in the world as one very body, to the only end, that one man might thereby have the help of another, when either infirmity or other necessity should so require. To this intent it is likewise reported, that Menenius Agrippa by a fable of Esope, did cunningly reconcile the people of Rome, to the favour of the Senate: putting them likewise in mind of the common proverb, That one man liveth by the help of another. For this is most certain, that no man was ever created so general, that he could thoroughly supply the want of the thing, that was requisite and needful for himself: the which as we may gather, was so from the first, provided of purpose, that one man in this sort néeding help of another, with charity therefore might cherish & love one another the rather. And for this occasion we may likewise say, that every Country was also ordained, to bring forth his several commodities thereby the rather that mutual acquaintance, by the conueyā● thereof from one to an other, might so be maintained among the people. By these and like reasons, it therefore appeareth that the duty of a wise man, is to seek to profit every man as farforth as he may, than the which, there is nothing more noble, nothing more worthy, nor nothing more agreeable to the estimation of his Manhood. To this only purpose he should persuade himself to be sent into the world, that thereby (following the example of his Creator) he might both benefit his neighbours, and profit his Country: For, the safeguard whereof, he aught to shun no sharpness of danger, but that in defence of the common wealth, he aught patiently to endure all trouble what soever, yea though the same do apparently tend, to the manifest hazard and decay of his life. For how much the more, honest laws & good ordinances are daily broken, by the misdemeanour of fools & disorderly people, so much the more aught their boldness to be resisted, & the public estate by wisdom preserved: since according to the saying of Plato, that Kingdom, that Empire, or the City, may then be counted most of all happy, when it is governed and ruled by the authority of wiseman. If then this wisemen of whom we entreat, will have a desire to perform the duty, whereunto he was purposely created, though daily he behold a thousand offences, wilfully committed no less against god, than against his neighbour, yea although to his great grief and sorrow, he see Virtue itself of most men oppressed and trodden under foot: yet by no means aught he therefore to withdraw him unto Solitariness, but the rather aught he then to stay in the City, and there to endeavour as well as he may to do that which is good: neither aught there any peril to be so great, which he, in the maintenance of Truth aught not boldly to adventure, saying, with Attalus the Stoic: 
I rather had in warlike tents, of Fortune for to dwell:  
Than in her wanton palace, where, in pleasure to excel.  
I torments bear, but force them not, each grief his end will find:  
My death the falling axe doth threat, yet nought appals my mind.   
And in this point also, he aught to follow the judgement of Cicero: It is (saith he) more agréeble unto Nature, and more for the safeguard and aid of all nations, to bring up their people in continual travail and hardness of labour, following therein the steps of Hercules, whom popular report, mindful of his deserts, hath placed among the Gods: than to suffer them idlely to live in solitariness, not only without exercise or trouble of body, but nourished withal in Tenderness and Pleasure, to the end that thereby they may excel all others, in the only shadow and show of their beauty. Wherefore I conclude, that all such as find in themselves, the force of any noble or valiant disposition, ought rather to mislike of Solitariness, than of society.  EV DOXUS. 
This truly Lisippus I may not deny, but that he, in the judgement of all men is to be accounted most worthy, who remaining amid such infection of vice, preserveth himself not only from that, which is thought to be evil, but showeth also the way unto others, how from the wicked behaviour of the multitude, they may withdraw themselves unto that which is good. Besides, I am likewise persuaded, that it is the part of a noble mind, to seek to profit as many as he may, and that not slenderly, but effectually: earnestly advising them, to find out the mean and measure of every thing, wherein Virtue, according to the saying of the Poet, doth hold her abiding.  
Middewaye tween Vice, doth Virtue rest,  
Found out by him, that seeks her best.  
Which thing, by the judgement of Seneca, is also approved: All virtue (says he) standeth in a mean, and this mean is a certain measure. And lastly I consider, that if this wiseman, of whom you speak, labouring to withdraw us from those false opinions wherewith we are infected, happen by chance to light upon one that is covetous of Money, he may well persuade him, that there is nothing more commendable in him that is poor, than to contemn riches, nor in him that is rich, than to be liberal of his wealth, and that if he live to content Nature, he shall never be poor, if to content his fantasy, he shall never be rich. For in this point ought the measure of our riches to consist, First to have that which is necessary, and lastly no more than is needful. All which may be had without any trouble, since that which is sufficient may be always at hand: whereby it appeareth that our greatest labour, is always bestowed in superfluities. But the true desire of riches, is always to be measured by a mind well disposed, according as Cicero in some sort prescribeth: If a man (says he) have a daughter, he hath need of money to marry her, if so he have two, he hath need of the more, if farther he have three or four daughters, his necessity still increaseth, but if he have fifty, as the report is of Danaus, so many daughters, require a great mass to their dowry: so as, to the néedefulnesse of each man, is the measure of his riches to be referred. Wherein, our Poet Horace seemeth likewise, to have very well spoken, saying: 
Who so that much, desireth to obtain:  
With want of much, must be content again.  
He well whom God, in money, rent, or land:  
Allows enough, though with a sparing hand.   
For want of due consideration whereof, it cometh so to pass, that the covetous man standeth still in need, as well of that which he hath, as of that which he wanteth, and he always wanteth lest, that coveteth lest. Epicurus therefore writing to Idomeneus, is reported to persuade him, that if he would enrich his friend Pitoclea, he should not add to his wealth, but rather abate, from his ambitious desire. But now on the other side, if so he happen to light upon some other, that thirsteth after honour, he may likewise allege, that the desire of government, although it appear more honest than of money, yet is it in deed, a very hard, a tickle, and disdainful mistress: for hope of sovereignty, refuseth no condition, of what service soever. Yet he whom Fortune, will needs enforce to become a governor, shall then most rightly deserve the honour and estimation of his name, when first in himself (as Cicero says) he shall bridle lust, contemn pleasure, suppress anger, avoid covetousness, and finally remove from out his breast, all enormities of the mind: since he only knoweth best, how to rule and govern others, that hath the power and skill to govern himself. For this is certain, that neither meat nor drink, nor watch, nor sleep, all which are necessary for the body, are at all times wholesome, except they be used with measure and discretion. So likewise, the gifts and casualties of Fortune, are then accounted both profitable and pleasant, when we temper and use them with such advised moderation, that they rather depend upon us, than we upon them. The nature whereof is such, that if we covet them without measure, we shall no more be able to satisfy, that unsatiable desire of the mind, than his drought may be quenched, whose desire to drink proceedeth not of thirst, but rather of some burning inflammation of his entrails, for that is properly no natural thirst, but an unnatural disease. To conclude, if this wise man (I say) by these and like reasons, can heal in this sort the affections of the multitude, and bring them in the end to that temperate mean, wherein Virtue, is said to abide: So that moderately they may learn, to desire riches without covetousness, Honour without ambition, Pleasure without Licentiousness, (if so it be lawful such, things may be desired) such one I confess, is to be reverenced of all men, as an excellent member for a Commonwealth. But, to come to that, which I have hitherto pretended, who is he (I pray you) that can thus bring to pass these notable effects, since for the most part we are all so nousled in lewdness, and the substance of our bodies so compounded of iniquity, that the one may not possibly be separated from the other: For no sooner are we born and brought into the world, but we are forthwith infected with all kind of wickedness, so as we may seem to have sucked this error, with the milk of our nurses. Now, when hereunto is annexed also, the evil example of our Elders, and the licentious disposition of the multitude, a great and forcible instructor of lewdness, and that the whole world, is generally made subject unto vice: From hence I say it proceedeth, that our minds are so perverted with such variety of opinions, and so far removed from the goodness of nature, that presently we seem to envy in ourselves her good inclination, and are therewithal so blinded that fond we esteem, nothing more worthy, nothing more commendable, nor nothing more necessary to be sought for on the earth, than wealth, than honour, yea than the vain commendation of the people. And therefore, though some perchance do listen to the truth, and seem to consent a while to the same, yet afterwards, perceiving the multitude to be of an other opinion, than they are of themselves, forthwith their reason is carried away with affection, as with a violent stream, and so they choose rather with many to err, than with few to judge aright. Thus by this means we are daily rooted and confirmed in our evil, and the rather by three occasions. The first, through the fault of such ignorant governors, as bestow their offices and titles of honour, not upon the virtuous and well disposed, as of right they aught, but rather upon flatterers, and such as are content, to humble and submit themselves unto their flavery: to the manifest hindrance and decay of such other, as are rarely endued with most towardly wits, who with honour might be nourished, and with glory inflamed, to the delight of some good and profitable study. The second, through the colourable dissimulation of those, who bearing openly a face of honesty, as pretending, as though they were free fro the faults of others, yet privily blush not by right or by wrong, to procure unto themselves, either honour, riches, or what else soever, they seem unto the world most of all to neglect: yea and that, which not long before they condemned in others, to the end that thereby, they might seem less careful thereof themselves. But forasmuch as all feigned and counterfeit things, do soon fade away, the Truth, which these men go about by cunning to oppress, could not so long have been concealed from them, if diligently they would have bestowed any time at all, to have sought for the same. Who so long, as they may be held up with a little Prosperity, the credit of their estimation doth shadow for a while, all their evil demeanour. But if any misadventure, which thereby discovereth & detecteth their hypocrisy, do chance to betide them, forthwith it then appeareth, how great deceit there lay secretly hide, under that their pretended show of honesty. For true glory taketh deep root, and spreadeth hirself very mightily abroad: where things that are counterfeit can take no continuance, because they are daily subject to decay. And therefore Socrates very notably declared, that he that is desirous to find out the nearest and gainest way to glory, aught first to endeavour to be the same in deed, that he would be accounted. But, through ignorance of the Truth, and default of those that seek after Virtue without discretion, we are I say so hardened in our naughtiness, that by the rude and uncivil behaviour of such counterfeit teachers, we are brought in contempt of that which is good: Which thing, is far contrary to the advice of Seneca, who counseleth a wiseman, that he trouble not himself with variety of fashions, nor seek, to make the people to wonder, at his strange kind of living: but rather, to behave himself so, that all men may learn to follow him in his goodness, or at the lest wise, that he avoid the company of such, who though they know nothing, yet think they know all things, and had rather seem to be teachers of others, though rawly they perform it, than to be learners themselves, though greatly they need it: Which kind of people, while arrogantly they strive to be accounted most wise, they prove themselves thereby moste ignorant fools. For in this behalf, we read that Socrates by the Oracle of Apollo, was adjudged the wisest, because, he acknowledged himself to be sure of this on thing, that he surely knew nothing. But to proceed, the third occasion therefore to confirm us in our evil, is the wickedness of those that flatter us in our naughtiness, for to this enticement the ears of most men be open, the glory whereof in so graffed in our hearts, that we all desire to be praised, yea and then most of all, when lest we deserve it. In which kind of madness we are so far evergrowen, that we accounted him for envious that flattereth but a little: Whereby it happeneth, that there is nothing so strong, that flattery may not utterly corrupt and overthrow. From hence the multitude of prating Parasites, that daily abuse the pliant wits, and gentle natures of well disposed people, do take their beginning: by which name we call them all, that speak and do each thing to the contentation of those, by whom they do live, reproving them in nothing, for the love of their belly cheer, from whence their name out of Greek is derived. From hence also, that saying of Terence may well be taken, That Flattery gaineth friends, where plainness reaps reproach. For Truth is grievous, because, thereof riseth hatred, which is the poison of friendship, but Flattery of the twain, aught rather to be more grievous, which giving liberty unto vice, suffereth a friend to run headlong into Follie. Wherein, the greatest fault undoubtedly proceedeth, from the party himself, who despising the Truth, will suffer his ears to be abused by Flattery. And hereupon I remember, the saying of Demetrius to a very rich libertine, that the end of his honesty was the beginning of his wealth, meaning, that when he fallen into Flattery, he began to wax rich. Yet Cicero seemeth to be of opinion, that Flattery is not dangerous, although it be hateful, because it can procure, the hurt of no man but of him, that is content to seem delighted therewith: which commonly happeneth to none but to fools, for that they of all others are soon overtaken, with the immoderate affection, & love of themselves. Whereupon, being blinded with ignorance, they neither know when they offend, nor take any care to amend their offences, because they esteem no less of their vices, than as though they were virtues. neither is it at all as I take it any marvel, for whatsoever is in Love is blind (says Plato) in respect of the which it loveth. Notwithstanding, suppose as you would have it, that we be friendly admonished to entertain into your company, some so wise and so faithful a friend, as may both perceive our faults▪ and also give remedy to the same: yet who I beseech you, is there to be found, that taketh any care to accept of this proffer, or if by chance he hap to meet with such an acquaintance, who I pray you; doth favourably hear him tell plainly the troth, that in short space after becometh not his enemy? Since therefore it cometh so to pass, that among the creatures of this troublesome world, there is daily to be found such variety of manners, what then should a wiseman do? Would you wish him to spend his time in talking to deaf men? or is it not more reason, considering, he can but little benefit the common wealth, nor do good unto such, as will neither take warning, nor can away to be controlled: that in this case I say, he withdraw him from the company of such lewd disposed people, retiring from thence into some solitary corner, that so, being out of the danger of that infective company, he may yet at the leastwise live honestly himself? For what availeth it a man, to have purged himself of his own offences, if notwithstanding he be always abiding, 〈◊〉 the savour and infection of others? But let us admit for the purpose, that a wise man with all his might, do daily endeavour himself to correct, the uncivil behaviour of such wilful offenders: yet what benefit I pray you may thereof arise, when not only, all goodness and honesty is generally contemned, but also all love, and affection to hear & understand the same, is from out our hearts most utterly banished: in stead whereof, nought else I may say doth there abide, but the inordinate love of wickedness and vice. The difference whereof may partly appear, by those two kinds of Venus, which Plato there feigneth, in his Dialogue named Simposium▪ Of which, the first was more ancient, brought forth by the heavens, whom virtuous men do follow: the second much younger, begotten between Jupiter and Dione, whom wicked men d●e serve. A wise man therefore as I mean it, shall rather covet to make choice of a place, very pleasant and wholesome, not only for his body, but also for his mind. For, whereas 〈◊〉 is always 〈◊〉 lining unto evil, and wi●h each allurement is draw● unto Follie, and where also the pleasure and delectation of our senses, is always ready to set the matter forward: for this occasion me thinketh it were greatly needful, that he departed from the multitude, as one desirous to live 〈◊〉 there in peace, than in war. Remembering also, that the rage of the people so vexed Socrates, 〈◊〉 and ●●lius, that therewith they were brought in manner beside themselves: of whom, he that laboured most to bring into frame, the manners of such as were altogether amiss, could scarcely have the power to resist the temptation of their manifold vices, when jointly in a heap they came thronging so together. For many times it happeneth, that a Physician himself may die of the disease, of the which he hath cured many others before. This wiseman therefore shall patiently suffer, all adversities and mischances that shall ha● to betide him, but he shall neither seek for them, nor willingly put forward himself among them: Besides, as near as he may he shall cast off all troubles, a●●lettes and hindrances, that thereby he may the rather enjoy a well settled mind, which no man here may possibly attain, so long as he is vexed and occupied in the world. For this is agreed upon, that no one thing may be well performed by him, that is troubled with many things: Wherein, we read of Democritus that he pulled out his own eyes, lest that a beholding the vanities of the world, he should thereby become more unable to behold, the most excellent light of eternal verity. And Cicero himself, after he had well compared these matters together, although, for the benefit of the common wealth, ●e preferred the life active to be more commodious and available for man: yet therewithal he confesseth, that the contemplat●●● life, is more safe and easy, both for the soul and body, less furtherous to ourselves, and less grievous unto others. The which he seemeth after to have greatly desired, when so ●ore he was appalled with the death of his daughter: whereof writing to ●●●icus his friend, he saith. Now I refuse 〈…〉 of all things, neither, doth any thing content me better than solitariness, and setting thyself aside, nothing on the earth delighteth me so much: for thereby I have leisure, to use the advantage of this my unwonted liberty, in the only conference and exercise of learning. Whereby you may plainly see, how far this great and daily haunter of the City, of the senate, and of all other the most frequented places of the people, did after wax loathsome of that, which before he so greatly liked, and now esteemed solitariness to be the only pleasure and delectation of the world.  LYSIPP. 
This verily Eudoxus seemeth contrary unto nature, for that it banisheth from the world all humanity and friendship, without the which, the life of man (as I accounted it) is utterly maimed, considering, that there is nothing more convenient and necessary for mankind, either in adversity or prosperity, than the mutual familiarity and good will of a friend: who by partaking of our felicity doth increase our happiness, and by supporting of our miserïe, doth 〈◊〉 our adversity, not suffering our minds to be daunted with sorrow. For the avoiding whereof, as there is nothing more helping than the comfortable love, that from such friendship doth unfeignedly proceed: so what thing in this world, than the fruition thereof, may be wished for better: From the which, since your solitary life will utterly deprive us, I think nothing on the earth (my friend) to be more hurtful. For (as Cicero sayeth) they seem to ●ake the Sun from the world, that seek to bereave us of this comfortable friendship, for that there is nothing by the favour of the Gods, bestowed upon us more necessary than the same. Take this away, and what I pray you shall become of the sick, whom nothing comforteth so much, as the hearty love & affection of a friend? What recreation for the healthful? What living for them that lack? and finally what difference between us & beasts? Truly, if herein we regard but the ordinary course and handy works of nature, we shall thereby find, that she hath framed each peculiar person, to live to the aid of the whole multitude, and the whole multitude, to 〈◊〉 to the aid of each peculiar person. If then, for each misadventure and trifling discommodity, that daily may happen in the affairs of the world, this wiseman shall fly into his solitary corners, I see not in this sort, what trial at all there may be made of his Virtue. For this is much like as if a bragging soldier, would be gladly accounted a courageous champion, and yet will seek to flee, each proffered occasion and challenge of warfare, wherein he might have cause to show forth his manliness. Demetrius therefore was wont to say, that he thought no man more unperfect, than he that in his life time, had never tasted of adversity: For that the man, to whom all things hath happened to his own desire, could never have cause to make trial of himself. The which also that it is true, I have experience on my side to approve the same: For how could the faithfulness of Marcus Regulus, the abstinence of Caius Fabritius, or the patience of Quintus Mutius, so well have been known, if their calamities, had not given occasion to the publishing of their virtues? Surcease, therefore I pray you, to set forth any further your solitary living, wherewith in my opinion you are over far in love: for this is certain, that nature hath not only allotted the same as peculiar unto beasts, but on the contrary, hath delighted mankind with the building of Cities for their abode upon the earth, that thereby the people in all kind of matters as well Civil as Divine, might be brought by degrees to a perfect unanimity and agreement among themselves, and finally to join in one perfect love and affection together. But if this notwithstanding, you think it still more safe and convenient, both for avoiding the infection of the multitude, and for better contentment of our uncontented minds, that we live abroad in the desolate wilderness among untamed beasts: yet consider again, that it is far more famous and glorious to abide in the civil company and fellowship of men, and there, by persuasion of our words, and example of our works, to benefit (if not all) yet as many as we may. And remember withal, that Attalus the Stoic was wont to compare, a careless life unto a dead sea, which except it be spent in study or prayer, it induceth us directly to the way of all mischief. 
The condition of solitariness.  For solitariness is said to be of this property, that it is either endued with singular Virtue if it be well used, or else it is infected with most detestable vice, if it be ill applied. Which opinion is also confirmed by Seneca, who saith, that naughty counsels are there intended, wicked desires kindled, boldness set forward, lust provoked, and wrath inflamed, and therefore as a pernicious evil, it aught with all our power to be utterly eschewed, and our bodies to be kept in exercise of labour, that thereby we may so drive away the humour of slothfulness, which is only nourished and maintained by solitariness: by occasion whereof, we are made so tender and delicate of body, that we may possibly endure no hardness of travail. And therefore they that first established the Common wealths of Greece, well understanding that by labour and diligence, men were only to be made courageous and hardy, so provided by their laws, that the bodies of their subjects should be hardened in the same. Among whom, the Lacedæmonians especially above the rest, brought up their youth in continual travail, as in hunting, running, hunger, thirst, cold, and heat: to the which they also enjoined their women, that where in other Cities they kept them at home, in their costly apparel, both out of the heat and danger of the Sun, in this noble City it was nothing so, but while they were young, they were accustomed to labour, to run, and to be conversant in war, without respect, either of heat or of dust to hinder their beauties, rather than to live so deliciously at home, as was the manner and guise of other laborious nations. By this occasion, the race of the Amazons become so famous: To this intent, the Romans also brought up their people in the usual exercise of warfare, learning, and husbandry: For nothing is there more certain, than that the faults of this idle solitariness, are to be avoided by labour. Wherein, if I were disposed to utter, the divers examples of many notable men, what a number might I recite, of those that have rather made choice to live, not in the wilderness, but in most famous and flourishing Cities, that so they might thereby employ their time, to the benefit first of the Common wealth, next of their parents, and lastly of their friends and country: thinking this, to be far more commendable and prayseworthie to the world, than beast like to live, in the secret and unfrequented places of the earth, to the only pleasure and contentation of themselves. Which thing, we first and principally do read of Pythagoras, who by his presence and doctrine (the estimation whereof being diversly spread abroad) is said to be the first that gave light unto Italy. The like we read also of Socrates for Greece, who as he was a painful and diligent learner, so was he a bountiful and liberal teacher, practising that in the trade of his life, which he professed in his doctrine, and persuading himself, that no man was rightly to be reckoned wise, that sought not to imprint that in his heart, which he learned in his books. Him succeeded Plato and Aristotle, well known to be men of most excellent learning, who making chief their abode in Athens, beautified that City with civil behaviour, honest laws, and reverent institutions of divine knowledge. What shall I need to na●e, either Minos, who made the laws for the people of Creta? or Philolaus the Corinthian, who framed the common wealth of the 〈◊〉 or Solon and Lycurgus, of whom the first gave laws to the Athenians, the second to the Lacedæmonians? or the like done by the Gymnosophists to the Indians, or the Magi to the Persians'? All these I pray you, did they not live among men, and by so living, did they not end ●●ur to amend, the untamed natures and dispositions of the people, by their good and politic Institutions? Either why should I relate, the infinite number of Orators, Poets, and Philosophers, who altogether refusing this Solitary living, made wholly their abode for the most part in Cities, thereby the rather to kindle among men, either by persuasion of their Eloquence, or by allurement of their verses, or by their arguments and syllogisms of reason, a perfect love and affection unto Virtue: as the two noble Catoes, are reported among the Romans, who were so honoured for their gra●itie at home, and so renowned for their virtues abroad, that well near all the world stood in admiration of their excellency. The example of whom, many notable men of Rome, but especially Tully, that great Prince of Eloquence, did after imitate: who although at sometimes he seemed to commend the Solitary life, and also used the same himself, yet did not that humour of his proceed from his voluntary liking, but rather from necessity, for that with others he was then enforced to forsake the City, which he esteemed more precious than any gold, and to remain for a while in banishment, because in private conference, he rather preferred the cause of Deiotarius, than of Julius Caesar: who therein writeth of himself as followeth. Being put by force, and by occasion of the war, from all my dealings in the common wealth, I now have here great store of leisure, and therefore I walk and take my pleasure of the Country, and am many times alone. Or to what end should I repeat, the manifold examples of Emperors, Kings and Captains, who while they lived sought nothing more, than to defend their Countries, and to enlarge their dominions, by their valiant enterprises and noble deeds of arms? As of Alexander the great, of whom we read, that he subdued the greatest part of the world, that he enlarged his Empire as far as the Ocean sea, and that by his valour he purchased to himself such estimation and renown, as the remembrance of his name will always endure? Or if Antiochus the great king of Syria, of whom it is also reported, that he added to his ancient dominions, both Babylon, Egypt, and I●rie. Or of Hannibal, who joined so many battles, & obtained so many victories against the Romans? Or of Mithridates▪ who so greatly augmented the Parthian Empire? Or of Epaminondas Prince of the Thebans? Or of Pyrrhus the good king of Epirus? Or of divers others, who pressing down their grise●ed hears, with their warlike helmets, put their enemies to flight in sundry famous battles? As for the purpose of Scipio surnamed Affricanus, who made Carthage tributary unto Rome? Or of Scipio Emilianus, who overthrew Numantia, and utterly razed up the foundations of Carthage? Or finally of Caius Marius▪ who led ●●gurth as a captive in his triumph, vanquished the people called Cimbri in France, the Germans in italy, and solemnly triumphed upon them both? What may we think of these? may we imagine they thought any other thing, worthy in this life to be esteemed of, save only that which was good and laudable? But if to the authority of these you will not yet seem to yield, consider than I beseech you, in what places, the body of Christ our saviour was commonly remaining, whom we know, came down into the world for none other occasion, than that in living among us here, he might by his secret power heal all our infirmities, and so again reconcile us to the favour of our heavenly father. And weigh with yourself, whether his holy Apostles gave us any example to lurk in such solitary corners, those I say, that being inspired with the holy ghost, and filled with virtue from above, travailed throughout the greatest part of the earth, bringing so many barbarous and heathen nations, under the yoke and obeisance of Christ Among whom, remember only that choose vessel S. Paul, where he I say bestowed his time, he that in countries so far distant a 〈◊〉 planted the Gospel, and he that for the safeguard of his brethren, wished himself to be cursed before the face of God. And forget not I pray you, where the manifold numbers of Martyrs and Bishop that are already dead, did spend their days, those that cared for nothing but to convert the people to the holy faith, those that only sought to increase the flock of Christ, and those that when occasion was offered, refused not to surrender up their own lives, for the safeguard of others. All which being so, be no whit now ashamed to yield, if not to the reasons and examples profane of those that went before, yet at lest wise, to the undoubted authority of those that came after, and disdame not my friend, after such plain and so manifest proofs, to make (as we term it) a recantation of your error.  EUD. 
All this notwithstanding I can not confess Lysippus, that either by these reasons or these authorities, I am yet subdued: forasmuch, as the contrary proofs that make for Solitariness are both the stronger, and the store of examples to prove the same, by many degrees the greater, whereby to fortify if need should so require, by the authority of most approved people a matter so apparent, as otherwise of itself is clear enough. And therefore to proceed, where first you allege the Solitary life, to be both odious and contrary unto nature, for this occasion chief, that it seemeth utterly to abolish all friendship, which you say, is principally to be preferred, before all other earthly commodities: my meaning is to make you understand, that your opinion in this behalf doth greatly deceive you. For, if thoroughly you consider whereon consists, the very life and nature of friendship, you shall then perceive, that as all things else, so also this holy knot of ours, is by Solitariness augmented rather than decreased. For if virtue, according to the true disposition of love, be a thing that procureth the favour of all men, and draweth their affections to join friendship with him in whom she abideth: How then may it possibly happen, that he that shunneth the concourse of the people, to the end he may avoid all occasion of vice, and thereby the rather follow Virtue more earnestly, should not friendly love and favour those, that bear like affection unto virtue as himself. And the rather when he knoweth, that the true foundation of love and friendship, is Honesty, whereupon also all other things depend, and is not ignorant, that if the uniting of good will were taken from the world, neither men, nor houses, nor Cities would endure, but that tillage, and all thing else, would shortly run to ruin and decay: since there is no house so well established, nor City so well fortified, but that by hatred and discord it may soon be destroyed. So that a wiseman, ought by no means to banish this comfortable friendship from his Solitary dwelling, neither may he if he would, for friendship créepeth I know not by what mean, into the secret dealings of all kind of people, and suffereth no trade of living to be void of her comfort: for, though some man may be found of nature so savage, that he abhorreth all company, as at Athens one Timon was so reported, yet can he not endure to be still alone, but that, either one or another he must néedly have, to whom he may utter the crookedness of his nature. A wiseman therefore be he never so Solitary, will for his recreation (I say find out) some such honest and faithful friend, as both in manners and nature may resemble himself, such one, as is pleasant, learned, faithful, eloquent, not tedious, not complaining, not grudging, not envious, nor crafty, and such one as he may love and may love him again, not for profit, but for virtue, which only breedeth and continueth true friendship. For such friends as are choose but for profit only, do no longer content us than they are profitable unto us: which as Seneca reporteth is the cause, why those that are found to be very wealth, are usually haunted for the most part with company, and why such as are needy, are left to live pining in their misery alone. And though it may peradventure be said, that a wiseman hath no need of acquaintance, for that he may seem sufficiently contented with his own company, yet of necessity he must seek to procure himself friends, although for no other occasion, than that thereby he may have some one, upon whom he may practise his friendship, lest otherwise so rare and excellent a virtue, should wholly lie hid in him, and his hap so hard, that he should not have one so specially beloved, as for whom at the least he might be willing to endure the loss of his liberty, for whom to suffer banishment, and for the safeguard of whose life, he might readily adventure the loss of his own life. For the mutual love of these and such like, this wiseman therefore without cause of offence, may use the pleasure of moderate feasting, allowing in this behalf the saying of Epicurus, that to eat without company, is to live like a wolf. Wherein, though many times it may happen, that by the urgent occasion of his peculiar affairs, he may not still be abiding in the presence of his friend, yet this in his absence he shall not forget that a friend is rather to be possessed in mind, than in body: in which degree he may also at his pleasure, either visit him, confer with him, help him, & together enjoy such other pleasures as from friendship may proceed. For present familiarity may well be said to establish true friendship, but not to begin or to create the same, for that is only to be procured by virtue, as before we have declared. In proof whereof we may found a number, who though they have lived a long time together, yet thereby grow not at all into friendship, because, of the diversity of their manners, and the great variety of their repugnant natures: other some again, who almost so soon as one beholdeth the other become presently friends, because, nothing is more amiable than Virtue, nor nothing, that sooner provoketh a man to benevolence. Therefore then since of all Societies, there is none so good, nor none so firm, as when good men of like condition are truly linked, in honest love and acquaintance together: From hence I say it proceedeth, that a Wiseman wheresoever he abideth, will always seek to join friendship with such, as are likest to himself, such as with whom he may as boldly confer as with himself, and such as for like love, mutual zeal, and unfeigned good will, are but one and the same together with himself: for so is the precept of Pythagoras, that in friendship there should be made but one of many. But to proceed, since of common wealths there are two sorts, whereof the one great, and universally Common, that is to say the world, the other more peculiar, whereunto by birth we are privately allotted: this man of whom we talk, shall always think it more commendable to prefer, the benefit of the greater before the less: for, if so it be weldone to help one or two, it is reckoned much better to help a whole multitude. But the same this wiseman may not well perform, so long, as he is conversant abroad in any public assembly, because in such places he can never be at quiet, but shall still be tormented and beaten with trouble, as a rock, with the tempestuous waves of the Sea. For when the people shall see him, to be any thing repugnant unto them in their manners, forthwith they all conspire against him, and with the sting of their malice never leave to torment him, until they perceive him, to consent with them in their wickedness, or to yield unto them in their folly. To the end therefore that a wiseman may perform, this his chief and principal duty, it is necessary first that he remove himself, from the daily throng of the people, and that he withdraw his delight, from the troublesome concourse of the multitude, retiring himself, into some such private and solitary place, as may be thought aptest for his own security, and for the furtherance of his knowledge in philosophy: that there remaining among his comfortable books of divers sorts, using them as his friendly companions, ready to go out with him when he pleaseth, and to return into his closet again when he willeth, yea ready at all times, either to speak, or to be silent, to keep home, or to impart their secrets abroad in the woods: he may at his pleasure, either walk and take the air, or exercise tillage, or use some other honest and commendable pastime, as to confer, to exhort, to comfort, to warn, to reprove, to counsel, or to teach the hidden stories of things that are passed: Where also to be short, he may by his own labour, prescribe unto the world such a method of life, as may persuade the people, to have death in contempt, to use moderation in prosperity, stoutness in adversity, and to keep a quiet contentation of mind in all their actions. You see therefore, how I admit into this solitariness of ours, not only this wiseman alone, but also with him his like addicted friends, and therewithal besides a general care to benefit the whole world: For no man doubteth, but that those who in their solitariness are altogether idle, slothful, and full of dumpishness, are of all men most miserable. My meaning therefore is not, that this Solitariness should be without company, nor that this quietness, should become either sluggish, or fruitless, but such, as like unto the Solitariness of Scipio Africanus, may benefit many: in which I would have handled no trifling matters, tending to unprofitable toys, but causes, of such importance and weight, as may not yield in the end, either unprofitable labour, unhonest gain, or any fowl or shameful reproach, all which I exclude from this manner of doctrine: but on the contrary, increase of honesty, reputation of virtue, and reward of eternal glory. Furthermore, for that as rest unto land, so recreation unto wit is sometime necessary: I think it not amiss, if for the maintenance of his health, which nothing as the Physicians allege, doth more preserve than moderate exercise, this wiseman therefore acquaint himself in the trade of husbandry: for of all things, whereof any gain may be made, there is nothing better, nothing more profitable, nor any thing more convenient for the reputation of a man. Which was the cause why the Senators of Rome, did in old time devil upon their farms themselves, as witnesseth Cicero, who says: that news was brought to L. Quintus Cincinatus being then at the plough, that he was choose Dictator of the Empire: and further reporteth, that both Curius, and divers others were called from their Country houses, to the office of Senators. For husbandry among our Elders was had in such price, that if they called a man by the name of a good husbandman, they did him (as they thought) very greatee honour. But see also, how far forth Horace commends this manner of exercise, saying.  
Full happy may that man accounted be▪  
Whose quiet mind from worldly care is free:  
And frames himself, as erst it hath been taught,  
To wield the plough, ne owes the user aught.  
What think you now my friend, seeing that Solitariness is thus with such a number, both of pleasant and honourable cares accompanied, will you therefore seem to flee and to condemn the same? especially, when also you shall see that it hath always been adorned, with the presence of most notable people: of whom, though the number be infinite, yet I hope without tediousness I may repeat a few. As for example, what say we first of the Philosophers and Poets? did not they, for the most part shun to devil in Cities, and wholly sought, to withdraw themselves unto their Solitary mansions? If of Plotinus, a second prince of Philosophers unto Plato, this question were asked, he would doubtless answer, that this kind of quietness would rather content him, than the whole world beside. If of Pythagoras the same were demanded, he would not only commend this trade of life, but would further declare, himself that he travailed throughout divers waist and solitary places, and that also he stayed long time in the wilderness, thereby the rather, to acquaint himself with truth: by the example of whom, all his sort of followers named Pythagorians, seeking to avoid the daily storms that happen by company, are said, to have always dwelled in places Solitary. And that Democritus, no less for his part performed the like, we also understand. As concerning the which, if of Parmenides and Atlas we further inquire, we shall likewise find, that the hills are yet called by their names, upon which they dwelled. Neither if the truth were known, would Prometheus himself deny, but that from hence was ministered the occasion of that mystical tale, that he on mount Caucasus was stretched abroad to be devoured of a vulture, meaning that there, he employed himself with such earnest attention, to the searching out of divers secret mysteries, that thereby his flesh was greatly abated, which nothing empaireth so much as study. What may we less conjecture, either of Socrates, Plato, or Aristotle, but that they all delighted in Solitariness, though happily at some time, either the care and regard of their scholars, or the necessity of the common wealth, or else some other like urgent occasion, withstood their private desires. Further, what say we of Anaxagoras, who was also of the same opinion? What of Xenocrates, of all the philosophers the severest, and for his constancy and continency, of all other most renowned? What of Xeno the father of Stoics? or of Carneades amongst them the painfullest? or of Chrysippus or Diogenes, whereof the one was offended with the salutation of his friends, the other, with the very shadow of Alexander the great? Is it not I pray you to be thought that all these, purposely shunning the society of the world, picked them out such places as seemed, most convenient and free for themselves to rest in, that so, they might the rather employ their unbourthened minds, to be always conversant in matters of knowledge, which otherwise the people, with their infinite variety of toys and vanities, would have utterly oppressed: knowing right well, that their time of abode in the world was but short, and that death hath a thousand passages to enter into us, by the doors and windows as I may term it of our senses. To proceed, what say we to Virgil? who fléeing from Rome (a place where greatly he flourished, aswell for his wit, as for the affection born unto him by the emperor than Lord of the world) meaning thereby to withdraw himself unto perpetual Solitariness, was by untimely death prevented of his purpose, and so discharged from the burden of all his cares: notwithstanding, thus much by the same he declared unto others, that Solitariness was the thing he chief desired, to the end thereby to accomplish that rare and excellent work, which already he had then begun. What of Horace, who writeth of himself, that princely Rome did not so much delight him, as unfrequented Tiber, or peaceable Tarent, for as it is said: 
The muses most, the plesantwods embrace,  
For towns are foes, unfit for Poet's place.   
Next, who is able at large to declare, the laudable disposition of Cicero, or the excellency of his glorious quietness? where invented he his laws? Where furnished he his Orator? where described he the duties of life? where painted he out the forms and natures of the Gods? Where refelled he the opinion of Soothsayers, the root of all error? where set he down the limits of good and evil? or where exhorted he men to the study of Philosophy, but in his Solitary places of rest? Wherein, to the end his time might not vainly be spent, he applied both his wit and industry (as himself reporteth) to the exercise of writing. Farther, mark also what Quintilian reporteth of Demosthenes, the greatest Orator among the Grecians: That fervent lover of Solitariness, used to walk (sayeth he) along the coast of the sea, that so he might acquaint his ears with the roaring of the water, to the end thereby to embolden himself, the better to endure the daily noise and murmur of his auditory: this also (says he) is that Demosthenes, well known to the world to have painfully learned, and that in the deserts, that excellent art of oratory, which after else where he practised abroad in divers notable Cities. If these may not suffice, what say we then of Seneca? who from a towns man of Corduba. becoming after a Citizen and famous senator of Rome, with no small joy of mind, remembreth notwithstanding his Solitary living in Corsica, and prefereth the base estimation of that his quiet exile, before this the courtlike estate of his troublesome glory: for albeit, in another place he seem to speak against Solitariness, where he says, that evil counsels are there devised, and so forth as you have before repeated, yet if you mark well his words, you shall plainly found that he speaketh the same of none but of fools, and of such, as are over much ruled by their own affections: for so, we are always wont (says he) to direct the fearful and dumpish person in his Solitary living, that thereby unadvisedly he hurt not himself: whereby it appeareth that he permitteth not only this life unto others, but farther persuadeth his friend Lucilius to esteem of the same, to whom he saith: flee my friend from the multitude, flee from a small number, yea flee from every one, for I know him not in whose company I would have thee to remain: see therefore how well I judge of thee, that I dare adventure to commit thee to thyself, and to the sway of thy own direction. What of Scipio, he that first by his noble acts and approved valour, deserved the surname of Africanus? was not he I pray you so great a favourer of this kind of life, that of himself he was wont to say, that he was never more leysurlesse than when he was full of leisure, nor never less alone than when he was all alone? for, when thus he was alone, his virtue did not rest and languish in idleness, but was rather accompanied with most commendable cares: And those two things, that is to say Rest and want of Company, which unto others were occasion of slothfulness, to this man were helps to provoke him unto goodness. What of Scipio his nephew, called also by the name of Affricanus, was not he likewise so desirous of rest, that oft times with Lelius he would play the husbandman, oft times confer with him abroad, and many times wander himself alone along the sea coast of Italy, where to keep him from idleness, he would not stick to embase that victorious hand of his, which erst overthrew both Carthage and Numantia, to the gathering up of cockle shells and stones. What of Epaminondas, with whom the whole glory of the Thebans was born, and with whom also it died: did not he (who sang very well to his instrument) commend and set forth his Solitary leisure, with musical harmony? What of Achilles? who thought the interchangeable refreshing of quietness, a thing very necessary to ease him sometime, from dangerous toil of his laboursome warfare. What of Hercules, who in the midst of a desert is said to have taken (as it is reported in Tully) that wholesome counsel for the direction of his life, when by fortune being brought unto a place divided into two several ways, the one of pleasure the other of virtue, at length after much deliberation, despising that of pleasure, he entered the way that led unto virtue, which brought him in the end not only to the top of humane glory, but also to the number and fellowship of the Gods. What of Numa Pompilius? who from a stranger being called (beyond all expectation) to the regiment of the Roman Empire, when he bend himself to the making of any laws, for the better stay and government of his people, he would usually then depart from all company, and withdraw him for a time unto a desert wood, that was fifteen miles distant or thereabouts from the City. What of Augustus Caesar, who always wished to attain unto this rest? for whatsoever he thought of, or whatsoever he spoke of, it was always directed to this only end: this was the ease of his present turmoil, this was the reward of his labours forepast, and this only was his comfort in time for to come. Yea what of Solon himself, who though of his common wealth, he were the first law maker, governor and director, yet in his latter age he gave himself (as we read in Plato his dialogue called Timeus) to a contrary study, and is also, to be reckoned among the number of our Solitary people. But I make I perceive too much haste, I must therefore turn back a little, for that I have overslipped the Quintians, the Curians, the Fabricians, and many other beside, that have spent the greatest part of their lives in the Country. If now to the example of those you will not seem to give credit, call then to your remembrance our old father Adam, the first of all mankind, and you shall find, that so long as he lived alone, no creature was ever more happy, and when he was decompanied, no man was after more unfortunate and miserable: for alone he stood steadfast, and with company he fallen headlong to destruction. After whom, consider I pray you the general state, of all the Prophets and patriarchs, and by them it will appear, that they neither dwelled in City nor Palace, but shrouded themselves in their homely cabins, amid the wide and open fields: in which places, they were thought most worthy to talk with God, and to receive from him those promises, which since we have seen fulfilled. And forget not withal, how oft the saviour of mankind himself, went both to the mountains, and to the Solitary deserts, yea at the very time of his passion, when he prayed for us so earnestly to his father: by the manner whereof he left unto us, a perfect rule and example of life, expressing thereby the way that leadeth to eternal bliss. Neither let this be unknown unto you, that his great forerunner (john) he I mean that with his finger pointed, at the divine person of Christ our saviour, made also his abode in the Wilderness. last of all, it shall not be amiss if I put you in mind, how the Solitary woods of Egypt, at the imitation of Antonius, Hilarion, and Macarius, were after replenished with the daily resort of most reverent fathers, such as thought nothing more carefully to be shunned, than the troublesome recourse of company, to the end, that with more security they might bestow their time, in the only worship and service of God: which manner of living, though many men after with great zeal pursued, yet among the rest, we read the same to have especially been performed, by that well disposed father Benedictus, he whom S. Gregory the great so greatly commends, that from his infancy he was a lover of virtue, & an open contemner & enemy unto vice: whereby, although he had already well entered (as it may be thought) the right way to heaven, yet to the end, he might thereto more safely attain, he hath forsook Rome & Nursia, of the which, in the one he was brought up, in the other born, so that by by custom & nature, he had good occasion to love them both, & wholly be taken himself to end the rest of his life, amid the sacred & Solitary caves: where, how virtuously he lived, I need not I hope at all to relate, forasmuch as divers well approved writers, together with general good report, have sufficiently from time to time declared the same: with the remembrance of whom, I think best at this time to leave, for that, it would be too long I see to repeat, the multitude of those that from that time hither have followed his steps, and have been earnestly persuaded, partly by example, partly by nature, and partly by divine inspiration, to withdraw themselves from the daily troubles and vexation of the world. Now therefore, as touching the farther commendation of Solitariness, which hath already been confirmed, first by arguments and after by examples, I have my friends no more to say, but only that it seemeth a very heavenly matter, and therefore, not without great cause, may it well be named a singular life: the which, that it is in truth the very sole and only life unto all other lives, the words of Cicero may very well testify. This our life (saith he) which is called life, is indeed death, but that other is the only life that is apt for all goodness, a life that amendeth our manners, subdueth our affections, purgeth our offences, abateth our vices, and increaseth our Virtues: A life that is the mother of Philosophy, the helper of Poetry, the reveller of prophesy, yea the only maintainer of all devotion and holiness: And a life to make short, that of all other lives is most Angelical, and nigh●st resembling to that joyful and heavenly life, to the which we all desire to attain. But what say you 〈◊〉 the last to this matter O Tales, for I well perceive that Lysippus, notwithstanding all these arguments alleged, is no whit yet removed from his former opinion.  TALES. 
Full well in good sooth you have both (my friends) defended your opinions, and full learnedly and liberally have you disputed of that which was first proposed, in such sort, as for my own part I know not where any thing may be added to that which to spoken. Wherein, for that you both disagree in opinion (according to the manner of all disputers) to the end, we may therefore finish this doubtful controversy, regard is to be had both of the time and the nature of each man. For in truth, there are three kinds of Solitariness. 
Three kinds of Solitariness.  The first of Time, as the quietness of the night, which nature hath equally allotted all creatures, to the end thereby, to refresh themselves after their former labour: the second of Place, and the third of the Mind. To the last recited, whereof aught all men doubtless to be persuaded, the meaning of which is no more in effect, but that they devil with themselves, and converse but with few, and those also that are good: for nothing more doth comfort the mind, than the faithful familiarity and agreement of good men. The Solitariness of place, is to be commended only unto those, that have the knowledge how to use the same: for it is unpossible, although we have all one certain and prescribed end of our lives, yet that all men should therefore follow, one and the same very trade of living. In the choice whereof, each man aught first to be well advised, both how nature hath framed him, and how after he hath disposed himself: For some there are to whom the Solitary life is more painful than death, and to whom it will also be occasion of death, which only happeneth to those that are unskilful, chief, if they want a companion with whom they may chat, because, they can neither talk with themselves, nor confer with their books, but as fruitless blocks, remain altogether dumb and unprofitable. Neither is it at all any marvel, for Solitariness without learning is a very banishment, or rather a prison: but, if so thou have learning, then will it seem as pleasant unto thee as thy native soil, joined with abundance of liberty and delight. This is the rest that by the sentence of Cicero is so plainly verified, where he asketh, What is sweeter than learned rest? And to the same end I take it this saying of Seneca may be also applied: That rest without learning is as ill as death, and the very sepulture of a live man. This Solitariness of place, is therefore I say to be preferred unto students, & to such only as are thought to be wise: and yet no otherwise, but that when need shall require, they may again come abroad, refusing no peril, either for the safety of their country, or for the safeguard of their friends. For, it were a thing unjust, that any man should preserve his life, given him first by nature for the only use and behoof of his country, so long till she enforce him again for to leave it: and should not as willingly be content to bestow it in the defence of his country, when by urgent occasion she requireth the same, and when with honour he may gloriously loose it, but shall rather choose to live in shame and reproach, than to dye with fame and everlasting renown. A wise man therefore aught chiefly to know, how best to apply both time and place, aswell unto Solitariness as to Society, following therein as near as he may, the example of such as in former time, have to his knowledge performed the like.  LYSIPPUS, 
you have sa●de herein (my friend) both well and truly, for we seemed I perceive to contend, of the diversity of time and also of place, and yet we have thereof, made all this while no mention at all: which distinction well noted, would soon have ended our former controversy.  EUDOXUS. 
True it is Lysippus, and therefore, let us now make an end, for the night draweth on apace, warning us thereby to leave our boat, and to departed each one to his lodging till to morrow: at what time, and daily hereafter, so long as by occasion we shall continued together, we will again begin to deal in these causes, especially such, as shall be thought to contain any point of instruction, tending either to the stay of our affections, of our fear or desire, and whereby also we may gather best fruit, out of the wholesome rules add precepts of philosophy.  
FINIS.