THE forest or Collection of Histories, no less profitable, then pleasant and necessary, done out of French into English, by Thomas Fortescue.  
Aut utile, aut jucundum, aut utrumque.  
¶ Imprinted at London by John Kyngston, for William jones.  
1571.    


A VIRTUTE ORTA OCCIDUNT RARIUS.  
Haec tua prima, haec antiqua sunt, non alia pene.    

To the worshipful John Fortescue Esquire, master of the Queen's majesties great Garderobe, Thomas Fortescue wisheth continuance of health, with increase of worship.  
Passing hence into some the parts beyond the sea, not yet long since (right worshipful) of part for mine experience to acquaint myself with the nature of strangers, to see their order, and government, in the administration of the weal public, to see the soïle itself; and the commodities thereof, to savour of their language, with others the semblable but chief for mine increase, in the study of good letters, wherein as England lacketh not good schools, for that purpose, so thought I them less able yet, in the other respects to satisfy, and answer my desire. Where afewe months after mine arrival, the world grew to be such, so tumultuous, and troublesome, that no man could assure himself, or promise' himself safe being: gates each where were shut, towns and holds were fenced, castles, and forts furnished, all passeges straightly, and diligently observed, the fields full of armed men, ready to the battle, and in fine, throughout one only face, and countenance of hostility. By means whereof, the laws were locked up, as if they never had been known, justice was then to none, or sure to few men ministered, all arts Mechanical, and Sciences surceased, every corner full of close, and whispering mutterers, no man from other's malice, or safe, or well assured. In schools now were the chairesvoide of their learned doctors, no man delivered laws from justinian the Emperor, the solace of the sick Hypocrates was then, and Galene eke unknown, the sciences exiled then, the scriptures were not taught, the tongues were all forgotten, Philosophy, the love of wisdom, there a stranger. Besides these I nothing speak of the great number of houses, churches, chapels, and villages, utterly wasted, and consumed with fire, of the wilful profusion of wine, oil, corn, and the semblable: of the most lamentable, and marvelous penury, and want of necessary victuals, of the pitiful complaint of the indigente, and neadie, of the frowning faces betwixt neighbour, and neighbour, of the little trust the master had in his servant, the father eke in his child, or one man in an other. Thus therefore, when all things grew on, to such disorder, when policy gave room, and place to hostility, when arms, and armed men had all things in possession when none lived void of fear, when no state was assured, then knew I not what better to do, or how better to spend the long, and weary hours, then at times to busy myself in some light, and pleasant study. By means whereof, I chose to wade into this forest, wherein I must confess, I had such present liking, as seldom my hap hath been or never to find the semblable. So having then both red him, and red him through again, with due consideration of the excellency, and great learning of the author, I thought I could not better spend that so weary a time, then in translating this forest, into our natural language, to gratify my country therewith, to which not to our selves we live still, and still are borne. Especially for that I knew it written, in three sundry tongues, in the Spanish first, by Petrus Messia, a gentleman of Seville, and thence done into the Italian, and last into the French, by Claudius' Grugette, late Citizen of Paris: wishing that we were so labourous, and so diligent, that no thing amongst them were written, which we with them imparted not. And yet I must confess, that in this present vertion, divers chapters are left out of purpose, and advisedly, not by oversight, by sloth, or by negligence, which I thought I might with as good warrant do, as others some to add, or change at their pleasure, especially for that the matter so dependeth not, one part of the other, that the first without the second, or the second without the third, or that without them both, might please or content in any thing the reader. For being as it is a collection of sundry matters, the lack of one annoyeth not, or maihemeth not th' other, yet for my full discharge, and purgation herein, I wish that the skilled in the tongues, at their leisure should consider, what they are, how many, of what weight, or importance, that whilst my desire was only to give that, which was profitable, and pleasing therein, I might not be thought more dainty, then trusty to carve him at my pleasure. Neither would I again be thought so rough, and hard a censor with idle superfluity, to charge in ought the author, whose virtues and learning, I reverence and honour. And farther do promise, that if it may be thought expedient, at some time hereafter, to collect also the remnant. In the mean season, I beseech your worship to accept herein my doings, guard and defend from wrong this little forest, for whose cause only, I took it first in hand, of part, that if the reader conceive herein any liking, that he therefore stand bound to none, but to you only, of part also, to leave you some small show, or token of my poor mind, ready always, and vowed to do you all kind of service, trusting that you will as favourably accept it, as in cases not dissemblable, hath been your wonted usage, which if I may perceive, (whereof I never doubted) it shall 'cause me to attempt some other thing in time to come, percase with my greater pain, and labour. And this trusting that this rude, and simple vertion shall find some grace, and favour with the indifferent reader, shadowed especially with the countenance of your willing, and favourable protection, I end, wishing you many, and good days in this world: and in the other to come, eternal joy, and felicity.  
Your worships where so it shall please you to use or command him, Thomas Fortescue.   

TO THE GENTLE READER  
Never was I ignorant (gentle reader (to how many dangers he willingly expoposeth himself, that for thy sake taketh pain to publish any thing in writing, so dainty, and so divers are the judgements of men, so prove to deprave, and contemn the sweat of others. How be it, to do thee pleasure, I would not leave to hazard my credit, most assured that I shall not please all, and glad not withstanding, if I might content some. The learned I trust, will take all in better part, covering, and excusing whatsoever they find less absolute, or perfect, knowing that there never yet wrote any so advisedly, who had not, or at lest needed not, the file again of some one other. And as touching the others, I no more dread their hard, and sinister judgement, than I hunt, or thirst in any thing, their praise, or commendation. To profit nevertheless generally, was my desire, but chief the less learned, with this present Forest, which for good cause me thought, I so might name, or title, for that being a collection of divers, and sundry matters, is as a forest, well furnished with many trees, birds, and beasts, of different, and contrary natures. And if aught herein may please thee, or profit thee in any thing, accept it thanckfully, other price thou payest none, and give by thy good example, occasion to the studious, and learned in good letters, to take in hand, or attempt with like good will some other thing, to thine only profit, furtherance, and commodity. Assuring thyself, that none in any sort, do better deserve of their country, that none in any exploit do toil, or travail longer, that none swink, or sweat with like pain, and anguish, that none in like sort hazard, or adventure their credit; that none desire less stipend, or salary for their travail, that none in fine, are worse in this age recompensed. Show thyself therefore grateful, be thankful to the author, enter into his forest, disporting thee therein, some lawn, some range, perchance may please thy indifferent mind, some walk, or some thing else, may lend thee contentation, nothing I trust shall grieve, or annoy thee hedged therein. And as for me, this only in recompense I crave, that thou favourably wilt accept, and judge of these my pains, which if I may perceive, I will not leave to grieve me, to do thee greater pleasure. Far thou well, and such let be thy censure, as is towards thee my meaning.  
Such faults as have paste in Printing, as they in deed be many, and every where aboundante, so of thy courtesy excuse us, whether they be but letters, whole words, or otherwise, and as the sense shall lead thee, so amend what so thou findeste, or lacking, or superfluous, assuring thyself, that it sometimes passed us, in more perfect wise, than thou in these receivest them.  Giudica de gli altri come vorreste di te sigiudicasse.  

¶ An advertisement, written by the translator, to his book.  
Go hence thou little book,  
go show thyself about:  
Go room abroad and view each place,  
go seek some harbour out.  
Go up and dounne I say,  
no time do thou misspend:  
Go seek the learned, and serve thou them,  
on them do thou attend.  
Be glad and joyous then,  
when they thee in hand shall take:  
And when they thee do open then,  
to read thee for my sake.  
Beak then, and bow thee low,  
stoop down with all thy might:  
Let then thy painful service make,  
thee gracious in their sight.  
And fear not every weight,  
his force that strait will bend:  
With censure hard thee to oppress,  
of folly to condemn.  
But think then with thyself,  
revenge none look thou seek:  
That such with ease more sooner will,  
control then do the like.  
And fear not though again,  
thy papers faults do fill:  
In Printing which escaped have,  
and passed against our will,  
Correctors hadst thou few;  
and Printers oft do miss:  
The sense and meaning easily,  
the reader yet may guess.  
Ne dread though stranger thou,  
and geaste unknown shalt run:  
Though French sometime and Thofcane eke,  
from foreign land dost come.  
In such eftsoons the best,  
and learned crew do like:  
And them each where some thing to learn,  
with careful eye do seek.  
And yet no stranger great,  
though new come to this laud,  
sith that in English hahite thou,  
in England now doest stand.  
Great things do promise' none,  
ne make thou show of much,  
Among the meaner sort go on:  
content thee to be such.  
For they that soar a loafte,  
and over look the rest:  
That matters great do promise, and  
compare them with the best.  
Of times do prove but fools,  
and shoot wide from the mark:  
They promise' more than they do pay,  
they pay not half their part.  
Therefore be thou content,  
where so thou hap to come:  
To promise' least what so thou pay,  
this is of all the sum.  
That I to thee in charge,  
before the world give:  
That I still would thou shouldst observe,  
whilst aught of thee doth live.  
Farewell I can no more,  
thy father's blessing have:  
Be mindful of his precepts, and  
thine honour look thou save,  
And sith thou never shalt,  
to him return again,  
Work thou him good if that thou canst,  
for he thee peude with pain.   

❧ The First part of the Collection of Histories.  

¶ Why in the first Age men lived longer, then in this our Age present. Chap. 1.  
WHo so ever is studious in Holy Write, aught in manner of necessity to know, that in the first Age, and before that for Sin, the general Flood overran the whole World, Man's life was then longer, than it is now presently. For evident is it, that Adam lived nine hundred and thirty years: seethe, nine hundred and twelve: Cain, nine hundred and ten. And so afterwards descending from the one unto the other, who so lived least, lived seven hundred years. And in these our days, few reach to eighty, or ninety: which who so at any time passeth, rare is his hap, very strange, and marvelous, in such sort, that we live not the tenth part of their time. The Learned therefore, as well Divines, as natural Philosophers, which have hereof carefully discoursed, finding the same Nature, which hath given us cause of being, to be the very same, with that of these forepast Ages: and that these our Forefathers here lived so long naturally, and not by Miracle: feeling themselves not a little herewith troubled, began curiously herein to search the causes, or reasons. The which thing, as well unto M. Varro, as also unto infinite others, in the works of Nature appeared so difficile, that they supposed the years of the former Ages passed, not to have been such, as are these of our time. Which opinion is open folly, an error too too great, and altogether inexcusable, as we shall make evident in the Chapter following, having here first remembered the advice of certain grave, wise, & learned Authors. When therefore I read the judgement of others, and in fine thence descend unto mine own opinion, the principal reason, me thinketh, why we in this time, live not as long as did others in the first, and Old Age, is, that our Forefathers had not then any the causes, which in us new engender divers maladies, and diseases, whence necessarily ensue Stoopinge Age, & Death. Here must we also consider, that our first Parents, Adam, and Eve were created, and framed by the very hand of God, without any other aid or mean: whence it is to be presumed, that he perfected them with complexion most excellent, with a true Sympathia, and proportion of humours, the cause of their continued health in these their many years. By means whereof, their Children, issuing of Parents of such perfect constitution, as also their Offspring rising to them again, which naturally lived so long, and many days, must resemble their Elders in like perfection, and constitution of body, as men taking either their beginning, or being, of a matter most pure and simple, until such time as by the change of Ages (whose property is to altar, and to impair all things) the state of Man began to weaken, yéeldinge his days in number fewer than before. Again in that Age, one thing to them was very helping, and profitable: the which same to us is very noisome, and contrary: which was the great temperancy used in Drinking, as well in quantity, as in quality also, with the small change, and variety of Meats: for neither had they so many sorts, or sundry dishes, as we, ne knew they any, or new, or dainty inventions. To eat Flesh, what it was, before the general blood, was unto Man altogether unknown. Further, some hold for common, & most assured opinion, that both Fruits, and Herbs without all comparison, were in those days of far greater efficacy, and virtue, than any, found any where in this our latter Age: for that they then sprang out of a new, and fined soil, and not of such as now it is worn, wasted, wearied, and consumed. For the General Inundation took from it, his worth or fatness, leaving it in respect, infertile and barren, resting salt and unsavoury, by the rage of the Sea, which many weeks flowed over it. These reasons than are good, and each of them sufficient to conclude, that it neither was so strange, or marvelous, but rather a thing most agréeant unto nature, that men than lived longer, then in these days presently. Farther it may be said, (that which we for an assured truth hold) that Adam well knew the virtues of all Herbs, plants, and Stones, which also his Successors, of him in such sort learned, that to the like perfection after them, never any attained. This than was granted them of some part for the preservation of their health, for the continuance, and protraction of their days in this world: who to expel the causes of diseases, if any grew on them, only used to minister Simples, abhorring our venomous compounds of this Age: which in place to purge, and purify man's body, weaken, and dispatch for the most part the poor patient. Again in these above remembered first years, both the life, and health of man was propte, and sustained by the course of the Heavens, with the influence of the Stars, and planets, then far more beneficial, than they presently now are: for that then there neither had paste so many Aspects, Conjunctions, Eclipses, with other infinite Impression Celestial, whence now proceed so many changes, variations, & alterations on the Earth, and among the Elements also in those days principal occasion of health, and continuance, contrary now in this our Age of all sickness, and death. But above all that, that we have here alleged, or by reason have any way proved, I now maintain the many years of these our first Fathers, to have proceeded of the only, and inspeakable providence of God, whose Majesty would their continuance should be such, and so long, and that these above remembered causes, aided mutually one the other, to the only intent, that of two persons might then increase many, that the Earth might be inhabited, and mankind increased. Also farther considering, that for as much as Man after the flood, lived not so long as before: God licenced that they should enter into the Ark, and there save themselves, more Men and Woomen then himself in the beginning, and at the first had Created, to the only end, that the world might the sooner be inhabited. S. Augustine, of this matter, writing some thing, reporteth, that our Forefathers 
Lively 15. de Civitate Dei.  had not only in health, and many days, advantage of us, but also in huge and great statures of body, as is evident, remembered by many, their bones as well found in their Sepulchres, and Graves, as also at times under great Mountains and Hills: in such sort that some assuredly hold, that they were the bones of such as lived before the Inundation. The same S. Augustine affirmeth, that being at Utica a town in afric, beholding there the bones of a dead man's body, among others, found there some of his jaws, so great and weighty, that they well would have poised an hundred of these in our Age. Notwithstanding though yet our life be short, yet may we not for just cause any where complain: for that, if we abuse it in contempt of the Divine Majesty, a rare benefit receive we that they to us be so shortened: for we will now no longer acknowledge our God: and yet if we would as becometh us in all fear to serve him, a time sufficient hath he to that purpose lente us, for that the bounty of our Saviour is so great and ready, that he receiveth for Atonement sufficient, man's bowing heart and humble spirit.   

¶ That the opinion of those, that supposed the years of the former Ages passed, to have been more short than these of our time, is false. As also which was the first City of the world, and finally that our Forefathers had more Children, than these that are remembered to us in the Scriptures. Chap. 2.  
FOr that it appeared unto some, that the space of nine hundred years, in our first Fathers seemed a thing altogether impossible, less able to comprise or receive these above remembered reasons by us alleged, the only and sole causes of that so long a life. And where as they durst not to deny the foresaid number of years, so plainly and openly specified, and given us out of holy Write, they affirm, that the years of the first age, were far more shorter, than these of our time: so that the advantage of long life, which is unto them attributed so far above us, is not so great as it hath been supposed. Some others among them would also assure us, that one of our years, containeth ten of that age past. Also many others have said, that each course of the Moon yielded unto them one whole, full, and complete year, which it pleased them to term, Annus Lunaris. Others some also dreamt, that three of our Months gave to them a year: so that this accoumptinge, four of their years dareth us just one, and no more. For that in this sort, as well the Chaldeans, as also the Arcadians parted their years, as remembreth Lactantius. M. Varro a most learned Roman, in others many, besides this matter, was of the opinion, that these Anni 
Lively 2. divinarum Institutionum.  Lunares, were to be numbered from the Conjunction of the Moon, until the new Moon again, which may be the space of xxix. days, and certain odd hours. Pline in like manner reckoneth it fabulous, that any in the first Age should live so many days, affirming that the Inhabitants of Arcadia so numbered their years (as we above have remembered) by the space only of three Months without more. There is also among us Christians, a certain Book, of the Ages of the world, written by Eliconiensis, where he also seemeth to be of the said mind, and advice. Notwithstanding it appeareth most evidently, that the years mentioned in the Holy Scriptures, were none others, than these of our time, & that if there were any kind of difference, such it was, as was not almost sensible. Which thing is very well proved by josephus, as also by Lactantius Firmianus, but yet more perfectly, and more plainly by S. Augustine: by whose authority, and reasons, easily may be confounded who so leaneth to the contrary. touching the first, that each Moon in that Age gave them one full year, accoumptinge evermore from the one Conjunction unto the other, it resteth an eroour most open, and evident: for that we well know, that, that containeth not thirty days full, so that one hundred years following this our account, would mount unto above one thousand and two hundred of theirs of that time. Whence it would follow contrary to the opinion of all, that men in our Age now presently live longer, than they did immediately after the Creation of the world, for that never was there any man, that lived one thousand and two hundred years, which nothing surmounteth this Age of ours. It also is apparent, that some among us live an hundred years, some also (though rare it chance) an hundred and twelve, which would rise to more than a thousand and three hundred years, accounting them according to the course of the Moon. Like error to this, was not also theirs, which affirmed ten years of the first Age paste, to be just one, and no more of this our time? For had that their opinion been true, then should men have been able in the act of Generation, at the Age of seven, eight, and ten years, which squareth with no rule, or part of Philosophy. For proof whereof, we read in Genesis, that Seth the son 
Genesis. 5.  of Adam begat Enoch, being then old an hundred and five years. If then ten years of that Age, had answered by just proportion but unto one of these ours, it than should follow, that these of the first Age, at the Age of ten years and a half, of this time present should be strong and able in the act of Generation. Cain also having issue at thréescoare and ten years, should have also been Father, following our account at the end of his first seven years, yea and that which more is, at a far younger Age, if one of our years had counterpeased twelve of the first Age, as diverse have not left lightly to surmise. But we shall more plainly yet unfold this their fowl fault, and by this reason weaken their inexcusable error. If their year were but the tenth, or tweluth part of ours, then consequently must it follow, that their year had not twelve Months, or at lest that their month had but three days: which is false, for that the said text of the Scripture saith, that the general blood began the seventeen day of the second month: whence we evidenily learn, that the months of that time, where none other then are ours. Concerning the others whose opinion was, that a year in the first Age, was but the fourth part of one in this: their year being the space of three months only, is proved by the said piece of Scripture, to be in like manner false. For in the same place is it read, that the Ark of Noë flottinge on the waters, arrested itself, the seven and twenty day of the seventh month, which (the waters fallen) first staid itself in the Mountains of Armenia. Again, after is it written, that the waters 
Genesis. 8.  daily diminished until the tenth month, and that in the first day of the said month, the tops of high Hills and Mountains, each where discovered themselves. Whence now lie evident the errors of those, which measured for their year, the only space of three Months, for that mention is here made both of the seventh and tenth. Then may we well learn, that the ancient year had also twelve Months, as have in this last Age semblably ours, for that remembering the tenth, it mindeth less nothing then the end, or the last. And as ill also may that be said, that their month had but three days only: for of the seven and twenty day of the month, plain and express mention lieth open in the Text. But lest of all may it be supposed, that their days had of length but two or three hours, for that the same Text again reporteth, that it reigned, and the windows of Heaven were opened, by the full space of forty days and forty nights. So now then is it evident that the days were natural of four and twenty hours, the Months and years none other then are ours, or at lest very small and insensible was the difference. Which thing to that end, I only have spoken, for that all men accounted the course of the Heavens as we do, so that this order among the learned, the Hebrews I mean, as well as the Egyptians, hath been reverently each where, and always observed: among whom Moses the Historiographer was brought up, Author of those holy Books, where these long lives are recorded. Now if we would subscribe to the opinion of many, who affirm the Hebrews to have measured their Months by the course of the Moon, giving forth their year complete by the twelve Months Lunaries, each month having only niene and twenty days, & fourteen hours, or at the lest very little more or less, by means whereof, the year might end about twelve days shorter, then that which we measure by the passage of the Sun, which is three hundredth, thirty and five days, and six hours. This difference notwithstanding, ne yet leaveth doubtful, or of any part uncertain, the long and great Age of our forepast Fathers: for a small matter is it in niene hundred, or a thousand years, to exempt twenty, or thirty: for that the Months Lunaryes were not full thirty days. Hence then conclude we by this authority, certain, that the nine hundred and thirty years which Adam lived, the nine hundred also of the others, were such, as were the hundred three score and fivetiene of Abraham, and such also as are the three score and ten, and four score of of our time, for the most part, the extreme term, & end of our lives. There is also one other, and semblable consideration to be noted, to this purpose alleged by S. Augustine. Admit (saith he) that in the Scriptures 
Lively 15. de Civitate Dei.  no mention be made, that Adam, and his Posterity had any other Children before these that are in the said Scriptures remembered: yet is it for a verity assuredly to be maintained, that both before, and after, they had divers, and sundry, yea and that in their tenderer Age also, then is any where in holy Write, in any wise specified. Whereof to yield more sufficient proof, when it is said, that Cain had built to him a City, the first of all others that ever was in this world (of which josephus 
josephus, Lib. 1. de Antiquitatibus.  reporteth, saying: That it was beautified with divers Towers, environed, & compassed with assured good walls: to which he gave the name of his Son Enoch, which was to him then very newly borne), it hath small show of troth, that there should then be but two or three men in the world only, for that the Scriptures make mention of no more unto us: but to build a City the aid of many men, was of necessity to be required: the Text notwithstanding remembreth only the principal doers thereof, as appeareth, where it is said, that their Sons, and Daughters begat also others, whose names in holy Write, are no where remembered. The semblable we find in the holy Evangelists, as whereas S. Matthew treating of the Genealogy of Christ, according to the Flesh, beginneth from Abraham, thence descending unto David, saying: Abraham begat Isaac, remembering not one word at all of Ishmael, and incontinently following, Isaac begat jacob, not speaking of Esau, not, though they were in deed, as is evident: their Elders, lineally minding to descend unto David, who not being of the Line of Ishmael, neither here remembreth, or Ishmael, or Esau. Strait again, jacob begat judas and his Brethrens, judas not being of them the Elder. In such sort that treating of this Generation, he only remembreth those, from whom, in right line he descendeth unto David. Sufficient proof, to force the gaynesayers to think, that Moses also used the said practice in his History, and that our Forefathers had also other issue, than these that are to us remembered in the Scriptures.   

¶ Of the excellency of Secrets, and in what fort a secret aught to be covered, with certain Examples serving to that purpose. Chap. 3.  
ONe of the perfectest notes to know a Wise man, is, if he well can cover the Secret committed to him by an other, holding evermore his own affairs close and unknown. Who so of the time paste will read the Ancient Histories, shall find that a number of virtuous enterprises, mist far, and foully failed of their desired end, in time of Peace, as well, as also in that of War, by the only revealing of some devised Secrets, whence infinite mischiefs hastily ensued and followed. But among sundry examples, one we find excellent and surpassing the rest, as immediately, or directly, proceeding from God: who to himself so well reserveth his Secrets, that he ne revealeth to any the things that shall happen, or betid us tomorrow: as also neither they that lived in the Ages past, could at any time Divine any thing, of the things this day present. Whence it is easy for each man to consider, that unto God himself, to conceal well a Secret, is a thing agreant, acceptable, and pleasing. Who though he have for man's sake, to him discovered some thing, yet to let, or prevent, his provident intention, was never to any Creature yet of any part possible. By means whereof the wise, and sage in all Ages, have loved and learned, to conceal, and cover their Secrets. We read that Cato the Censor confessed oftentimes to his Friends, that he of three things right often, and grievously repented him: The first, that he to any body had unfolded his Counsels, or Secrets, but above all others especially unto a Wooman: The second, that he had passed some journeys by Sea, which he more safely might have passed with little pain by the Land: The third, that he idly, and without fruit, had spent in his time any one day. The two last, merit well of all men to be noted, and the first well aunsweareth to this our present purpose. Alexander on a time, receiving from his Mother certain letters of importance, which after he had perused secretly with Ephestion, closed up his lips, with his secret Seal or Signet, giving openly thereby to all men to understand, that he to whom a man in his Counsels affieth him, should evermore have his mouth well closed, and shut up. When the King Lysimachus had offered unto the Poëte Phillipides, what so should please him to ask or demand, he incontinently answered: the greatest good turn that your grace can do me, is not to communicate with me any part of your Counsels. Antonius Sabellicus retcieth to the said purpose, surely a notable and marvelous example. In the time of Pope Eugenius, saith he, the Senate of Venice had a captain named Cremignoll, by whose Treason, and disloyalty, the Army of the Venetians was to their great harm discomfited. By means whereof the Senators driven to further consultation, how & in what sort they should deal with this captain, some being of the opinion presently to send for him, to say him in hold, and to d●… justice on him: but others yet then were of opinion contrary. In fine therefore this was their conclusion, that presently, and for that time, they would dissemble the matter, as though they nothing had felt of his barbarous treachery, attending notwithstanding some fit occasion than that, minding evermore to execute him, that so justly had deserved it. This their determination was deferred for the space of eight Months, during which time (so well could each man conceal these affairs) ye though they were in number many, many also most assured friends of the said Cremignoll, some poor, and of mean condition, which to have advertised him of these news, might have received large & ample rewards. These things not letting, their passed determination, was at the end of these eight Months yet then close and Secret, at which time it was decreed that he should come to Venice, where the Senate, with many words, & with fair countenances received him, which notwithstanding, the next morning apprehended him, and did him forth with for his disloyalty to die. This than might serve for example, unto all Senators, judges, Counsellors, and others of our time: to the end that they better keep and conceal their affairs, than others some that have revealed things to their great hurt, shame, and detriment. To the confusion of which, I shall here remember a pleasant discourse, recited by Aulus Gellius, Noctibus Atticis, as also by Macrobius in his Saturnales, & hath this. The Roman Senators entering into their Senate at Rome, accustomed each one to bring with him his Son, and that as soon as he was ones able to go, and to the Children of the Nobility was granted this Privilege, until they were fully seventeen years old: to the intent, that beholding the reverent order of their Parents, they in time to come afterward, advanced to ripe Age, and fit for Government, might the better be instructed in common and Public affairs? So carefully beside were these Infants instructed, that out of the Senate they never discovered, or disclosed any thing. It happened on a day, the Senate than sitting on great, and weighty matters, and besides their accustomed hour of departure, longer continuing that their assemble, the determination notwithstanding reserved until the morrow, with straght inhibition, that in the mean time no word were thereof in any respect spoken. But among other children than that day there present, there was one young boy, the Son of Papyrius, of one of the most Honourablest families in Rome. This Child at night being returned home, his Mother first by entreaty, in flattering sort desired him, to learn her, what matters were debated that day in the Senate, considering their long abode, besides the wonted manner. To whom the boy answered that he might not well disclose it, considering it was prohibited, thereof to speak any thing. She this much understanding (as is the common wont, and usage of Woomen) waxed then much more earnest thereof to feel some thing, in such sort, that neither, by fair words, nor flattery able to get any thing, would with threats, and rods finally force him, to answer her less honest, & hasty importunity. Whose malice to avoid, this wise, and wily Boy, advising him well of this pretty guile, said: that this deferrent was amongst them that day carefully handled, whither as well for the state Public, as also for the augmentation, and more speedy increase of Mankind, it might be more conducible to the whole Empire of Rome, that one Man should have two Wives, or contrary that one Wooman, should be given to two Husbands, which both parts failed not, of most earnest, & assured factors: who the nerte day (saith he) will conclude on some final & resolute determination. The which thing, thus once understood by the Mother, to which she lightly added, both faith and credit: moved therewith, & something perplexed, advertiseth other Ladies, & Dames of these news: to the end they might let, and distourne that devise, of giving two woomen, as wives to one man, furtheringe the other part to the uttermost of their might, to enritche each Dame with two Husbands at the lest. On the morning following a great number of the Roman Matrons, were in flocks assembled at the Gates of the Senate, effectuously, and in many words requiting their Lords not to pass on any so unjust a Decree, as to give to one man in Marriage two wives, but rather to go forward without stay to the contrary. The Senators less wetinge to what purpose this tended, amazed, in entrance, one after the other into the Senate, demanded each of other, whence might proceed this so rare, and shameless incivility, altogether unable, thereof to yield any cause, or reason. But in the end, the young boy, the little Papyrius, did them out of pain, laying before them, what had chanced him the night passed with his Mother, and how that for fear of her thundering threats, and great words, was forced for his discharge, in this pretty sort to deceive, and beguile her. The matter thus then understood by the whole House, they highly commended the secret constancy in the child. Concluding notwithstanding, that thencefoorthe no Father should bring with him his child into that place, besides the young Papyrius, which only after entered, to the intent 
Papyrius.  that by these means, no secrets should out of that House, or Place be revealed. By the practice of this child again, may the Elders of our Age, what to do in their affairs, be very well advertised: considering that if a Private Secret be not to be disclosed, much less than a Common, and Public Secret, principally among the Aged, and men of assured judgement. M. Brutus, and Cassius, with the others all, their complices, which had conspired the death of julius Caesar, supposing it for the state Public, no less expedient, than it also was necessary, for the maintenance of their Liberty, having laid their plot, and devised the manner how to put these things in perfect execution, would notwithstanding thereof impart nothing with Cicero, one of their especial, and most assured friends, who also above others most effectually desired the abolition of that tyranny, not for any diffidence, or mistrust they had in him, but for that he only was reputed a simple, and bad Secretary. A thing assuredly worthy of admiration, considering how many they were, that conspired his Ruin, in how privy manner, and how long they concealed it, and that from their approved, and best beloved friend. Fuluius sommetime revealed a great Secret to his wife, which, not long before he had received of the Emperor Octavian: which after discovered by his said wife, notis thereof came immediately to the Prince, who, for his over much lightness, in manner most sharp, rebuked him tauntingely. By means whereof, he entered into desperation, determining to do present force on himself: but first charging his wife with the great wrong that she had done him: who said, that he no reason, nor just cause had at all to grieve with her, considering the many days that they had lived together: he yet had not felt her fickle complexion, or otherwise knowing it, that so londely would abuse his own knowledge therein, reposing his trust, and affiance in her. Wherefore though her Husband were the cause of this error, yet determined she to suffer the first pain due therefore, and with the same laid violente hands on herself, after whose death, poor Fuluius did the same. It is read in the Life of the Emperor Nero, that his death being conspired on a time 
Nero.  in Rome (a thing most expedient, as well for the romans, as also for all others his rare cruelties considered) he, to whom it belonged by covenant, to do the deed, met by hap a certain Prisoner, which by ordinance of the tyranny, was then on passage, to place of Execution, and considering with himself, that the wicked, & perverse nature of the Emperor was such, that none, whom he apprehended at any time, escaped death, and therefore the Prisoner, which sorrowfully lamented, might no way escape his bloody, and merciless hand, drew something nigh him (not remembering that his affairs demanded secret dealing) Pray to God (saith he) that it may please him to preserve thee until to morrow, for if thou do pass this day unto an end, I will assure thee, that Nero shall not do thee to die. Which thing understood by that miserable Prisoner, who incontinently suspected that which in deed was, seeking the only means to save his own life, declared the matter forthwith to the Emperor, advising him to take good heed to himself. By occasion whereof, Nero immediately apprehended him, that had comforted him in such sort, the above remembered Prisoner, and by change of torments, forced him to confess the Conjuration. By reason whereof, himself was cruelly executed, their Determination made frustrate, and void. Pline recoumpteth the plain contrary of Anaxarchus, who being apprehended for the 
Lib. 7. Cap. 23.  semblable matter, curragiously bit of his tongue, with countenance unappalled, to the intent that he never would disclose therewith any Secret, spitting it manfully into the face of the Tyrant. The Athenians curiously framed a certain Image of jest, in the honour of a common woman, who height Lyonna, in memory of her excellent constancy, for that she so well, and so secretly 
Lyonna.  had kept, both silence, and counsel in a certain conspiracy: which Image was framed without any tongue, the better to give forth the force of a Secret. In like manner the Vassaules, or Servants of Plancus, are in 
Plancus Val. li. 6. Cap. 8.  this place for just cause to be remembered, for that no torments sufficed to make them confess any thing of their Master to the enemies, which sought him, and would have slain him, where so ever they might have found him. The Page of Cato, that famous orators, 
Cato.  privy of a fault committed by his Master, was tormented in Rack, to confess thereof sommethinge, and yet for what so ever might be done to him in the world, never would he be brought to witness against him any thing. Q. Curtius remembreth, that the Persians 
Q. Curtius.  had a Law, more straightly to punish, then for any other fault, these that unadvisedly revealed any Secret. For confirmation whereof, he saith, that the King Darius, vanquished by Alexander, not knowing how to escape, hid himself: but no pain, or punishment on the one side, or hope of reward on the other, might move them, that knew where he was, any thing to speak of him. And again he remembreth, that the Persians maintain for an opinion, that no man should, in the man less close and secret, affy himself, in cases of charge, and importance. To be a good Secretary then, is in all things necessary, especially in War, that which all ancient Captains in the Age paste, well observed. Philippe the son of Antigonus, Successor to Alexander, demanded of his Father in presence of certain others, when, & at what hour the Camp should march. To whom the King in high disdain answered: Art thou so deaf, that thou fearest, thou shalt not hear the Trumpet, as well as others. Letting him thence plainly to understand, that by that his Demand, he had committed an error, which merited no answer in the presence of others. There was a Tribune in the Host of Cecilius Metellus, a Captain Roman, which asked his 
C. Metellus,  Determination, upon certain points in their wars. To whom he answered: If I wist that my Shirt knew, whereon I have resolved, I would forthwith and out of hand burn it. Horace, in his Laws of Feasting, commandeth that each man keep well to himself, what so ever shall there be said, or spoken. By means whereof, the Athenians had among them such an usage, that when so ever they met together at any Feast, the most ancient, should show to the others, the Gate, whereat they entered, saying: advise ye well, that no one word hence pass, that at this present shall among us be spoken. The first thing that Pythagoras learned his Scholars, was to hold their peace, and carefully to keep silence, so that he ever kept them a certain time without speaking, to the intents they might be learned well to keep a Secret, and never to speak, but when time requires. Which sufficeth to learn us, that to conceal a Secret, is of all others a most principal, and rare Virtue. For proof hereof, when Aristotle was sometimes demanded, which was the most difficile, and hardest thing in the world, he answered, that it was to hold our peace, and talk not. S. Ambrose also to this purpose in his Offices, layeth among the principal foundations of Virtue, the patience that man should use in silence. The romans among other the vanities of their Gods, had a Goddess 
Pline, Lib. 3. Cap. 5.  of Silence, which had to name, Angeronna, which they painted evermore in token of silence, with finger continually pressed on her mouth. Pline also writeth, that on the xxii. of December they Sacrificed still unto her. Which also witness M. Varro, Solinus, and Macrobius. A God of Silence was in manner semblable honoured of the Egyptians, which, they, as the others, with finger in mouth purtrayed. In like sort hath Catullus, and Ovid described this Idolle. And hence is well known, how they reverenced a good Secretary, in that they adored these Idols as Gods. Solomon in his proverbs saith, That a King should drink no Wine, for other reason none, save that, who drunk is, can in no wise keep, or Silence, or Counsel: and supposeth him further most unworthy to Reign, that cannot well cover his Secrets of importance. And again he saith, That who so discloseth a Secret committed to him, is a plain, and open Traitor: and who so well keepeth it, is a loyal, and faithful Friend.   

¶ How commendable a thing it is, to talk, or speak few. Chap. 4.  
Few times to talk, and then to be short, and Sententious, is a thing most rare, and commendable, never sufficiently praised of the Wise, and Learned. Solomon saith, That much talk is never without offence, and who so well brioleth, & moderateth his tongue is prudent. And again, He that mastereth his tongue, saveth his soul: but who so babbleth inconsiderately, lieth open, and in danger to infinite discommodities. Here might be alleged the Testimonies of sundry wise, and learned: but of some part may suffice that text of the Gospel, That we shall assuredly yield account of every idle word. The Lacedæmonians among all other Nations, pleasured most to be Sententious, and brief: in such sort, that when any used few words in talk, they said, that he discoursed Lacedemonianlike. Philippe, the Father of Alexander, on a time sent to them, that he would pass over some part of their Country with his Army, and that they speedily would certianes him, in what sort he should pass, either as their friend, or as their open enemy. To whom they answered in few, without any heap of words: Neither as the one, nor as the other. Artaxerxes in manner semblable, King of Asia, sent them word, that he would come to spoil, and sack their Country. To which their threats, they in none other sort answered, but, come hardly, & do what thou wilt. Me thinks they could not in long proses of words have framed him an answer more fit than that. The Ambassadors of the samians pronounced on a time, weary, and long Orations in their Consistory: in such sort, that they misliking of their tedious discourses, finally framed them in few, this answer. We have forgotten the first part of that you have uttered: and as concerning the rest, we do not understand it. Also to other Ambassadors of the Abderites, as well for that they were too curious in uttering their Embasye, as also that they demanded in great haste their dispatch, by Agis the King of the Lacedæmonians, was in this sort answered. ye shall say, returned unto the Abderites from us, that we have given you so long audience, as it pleased you here to speak. On a certain time, one talking with Aristotle, continued his discourse beyond measure, so long, that in the end, himself feeling 
Aristotle.  his own error, and fault, concluded abruptly, with his excuse, saying: Pleaseth it you to pardon me, that I have failed, in using so many words before so grave a Philosopher. To whom Aristotle framed this so courteous an answer: Friend, it needed not, that thou shouldest have craved in this ease, any pardon, for I never thought otherwise then to pardon thee undemaunded. Which answer, as well served, as it was fitting to that purpose. another example read we 
Livicus.  of those that rob, and slew the Poet Livicus, for as they oppressed him in wide, and open fields far from company, and out of all sight, he espied a company of Cranes flying over his head, to which with loud voice, he spoke these his last words: O Cranes, ye shall be witnesses of the wrong that is here done me. After whose death, this matter lay yet many days unknown, till on a certain time after, it chanced a solemn Conuente of people was made in the said place: among whom, were also present the two Murderers of Livicus, which hearing, as before, Cranes crying over them: the one advised his fellow thereof in laughter merrily (supposing in the mean time not to have been perceived of any) Hearken companion, behold here the true witnesses of the blond, and death of Livicus. It chanced, that one nigh them, hearing these words, and not well perceiving what they might signify, suspected forthwith that which in deed was, advectisinge the Magistrates of that which he had heard. To conclude, these two Roisters were incontinently apprehended, and according to equity, justice was done on them: which happened by words past them without advise, or regard. For this cause a man ought principally to be ware of that which he will say, before it escape him, with consideration also before whom, and in what place. Hecate's a Greek orators, was on a time 
Hecates.  reproved, for that sitting at a Bankette, he would sa●e nothing. Which understood by Archimidas, answered in this sort for him: Art thou ignorant, that one, that can so well speak as he, knoweth not also the time to keep silence? Infinite examples, out of divers Histories might be borrowed, of Times, Dangers, Infamations, and Death: in which, by too much talk, men eftsoons have been entrapped. Wherefore we should be circumspect, and wise, that before we do our mouth open to speak, we well consider of it, whether it may be to us prejudicial, or not. The great Cato, surnamed Censorius, was even from his Cradle very sober in words: whereof, at times reproved of many, as one that observed to austere silence, said: I grieve not at all to be argued of Silence, for that no man shall have occasion to reprove me of my living: for then, and not before will I break into words, when I have learned to speak these things that may not be concealed. Isocrates in his Book written to Demonichus, saith: That there are two times convenient to speak in: the one, when to speak is in deed very necessary: the other, when one speaketh of these things, he well knoweth. plutarch 
plutarch.  compareth those men that talk, not knowing whereof, unto void, and empty Vessels, which give forth a greater noise, than these that are filled. Plainly instructeth us the Philosopher Zeno, that for other cause none hath Nature lente us two ears, & one tongue, but 
Zeno.  only to speak few, in bearing, and receiving much. Horace adviseth us far to fly their companies, which 
Horace.  pleasure much in many demands, and questions, for that they commonly be captious janglers. Suetonius recoumpteth in confirmation of that, that was also reported 
Suetonius.  by others, that the principal cause that moved Octavian so much to fantasy, and favour his Minion Maecenas, was, that he was very secret, and not prodigal of words. Cicero affirmeth that Cato the orators, 
Cicero.  never would commit to Paper, any his Orations, saying: That if it ever happened him to repent him of that he had said, yet that, that he had written, should not aggravate his sorrows, for that he never might deny the thing, that his Pen should witness against him. But to the end, that arguing here, the less advised, and running tongues of others, I seem not to incur the said error myself. I end with the Ppilosopher without any more: concluding, that it oftentimes repenteth me to have spoken, but to have held my peace, that I remember, never.   

¶ Of the strange opinion of the Egyptians, touching the term, or end of Man's Life: limiting the same by the proportion of his heart. Chap. 5.  
THat which I shall say here, will seem unto many very strange and new, but unto most men fond, and ridiculous: for that it is a thing very difficile to be proved. Wherefore neither will I bind myself to the probation thereof, although the authority of those that seem to approve it, should either yield it a troth, or unto a truth sommethinge semblable, and liking. Pline, and Marcus Varro, writing of the time 
Pline, Lib. 11. Cap. 36. M. Varro.  of Man's Life, affirm, that the learned Egyptians had found out by experience, that Man according to the order of nature could not live above an hundred years, and that if any reachte to a further, or elder age, it was by some particular influence, & force of the Stars: a thing in the works of Nature very strange, and marvelous. Hence grounded they their foundation, upon the heart of man: in which by often, and common Anotomyes', they found, and perceived certain marvelous Secrets. For said they, when Man was of the age of one year, then poised his heart only two of their drams: when be was two years old, then poised it four, and so forth how many years so ever he lived, by proportion still grew his heart to be of like number of drams. In such sort, that being once fifty years old, Man's heart should wieghe then an hundred drams: and from thence, by like proportion still he looseth of his weight, each year two drams, even as before he increased. So that at the end of an hundred years, the Heart by continual decrease, is become nothing: so that consequently of necessity, Man then must die, if before he be not prevented by some accidental occasion, which both can, and doth commonly in such manner abridge our days, that very few of us live the one half to experiment this matter. Though to some this matter seem strange, yet be we assured, that the Egyptians held it for certain: as plainly have left us the above remembered authors. Of our time also Ludovicus Celius Rodianus, alleging in like manner to that purpose, Dioscorides, who remembreth thereof sommethinge, among other many matters: to whom also cometh Petrus Crinitus, in his Book of Honest 
Lively 10. Antiquarum Lectionun. Cor. Ag. Lively 2. de Secretis Philosophiae.  Discipline. Galiotus de Nargni, in his Book of Man, as also in like sort Cornelius Agrippa. I was desirous to remember here all these Authors, for that the matter might otherwise hardly be digested. Now remaineth it to be deemed of, as to the Reader it shall be liking. And now that we have taken on us to speak of Man's Heart, and of the excellencies of that one little part, to the intent we treat not of one point alone, it shallbe expedient that we learn, as recoumpteth to us Aristotle, that Man's Heart lieth lodged in the left side 
Aristotle.  of his body: but in other Creatures is found evermore in the middle of their breast, which he recordeth in his first Book of the nature of Beasts. Further among the Philosophers Natural, it is maintained for an opinion Common, that the first part that cometh in Man to any form, or proportion, is the Heart, the root of all others his parts, the fountain, and only springe of natural heat: as also the last member that looseth his moving, and dieth in him. It is assuredly a most delicate, and dainty member, and such as may not be touched, but Man forthwith dieth. Pline recordeth a strange 
Pline. Lively 11. Cap. 37.  matter, which he for true affirmeth, saying: That there was one found, which had his Heart rough and hearye: and further, that who so hath the same, is evermore valiant, and curragius. Which thing was found true (being opened) in Aristomenes, who with his own 
Aristomenes.  hand in one Battle, had slain three hundred Lacedæmonians: who after having escaped, by his rare force, sundry dangers, and afterward dying in his Bed quietly, was opened, and his Heart found, as is abovesaid, hearye. Suetonius Tranquillus, in the Life of Caligula, as also the said Pline, together affirm, that who so dieth, done to death with Poison, his Heart will at no time consume, or waste with fire: which was proved in Germanicus, Father of Caligula: which also happeneth 
Germanicus.  to them that die of the Falling Evil. Further it is evident, that the force of laughing, or Laughter itself, resteth in the little cheastes, or seats of the Heart. For proof whereof, the ancient Historians writing of certain Swoordeplayers in Rome, avouch, that these, by mean of whose wounds, the very threads, or veins of their hearts fell out, made change of this life, with extreme Laughter. Also as this quality of Laughter proceedeth from the heart, so Melancholy thence semblably taketh his beginning: as in like sort, all virtuous, and naughty imaginations. All words first there engender, and begin. Many also maintain, that it is the chief seat, and principal resting place of the Soul. Which seemeth to be well confirmed by our Saviour himself, saying: That wicked imaginations, and naughty thoughts proceed directly from the heart, and that, that entereth at the mouth saileth not the man, for that these be but things indifferent. Further Venerable Beda 
Beda.  in his Commentaries on S. Mark, remembreth the chief seat of the Soul, not to be in the Brain, as maintaineth Plato, but rather in the Heart, as learneth us our Saviour.   

¶ Of the first beginning, and springe of War: as who were they, that first invaded strange Countries, with the inventors of certain Weapons, and Arms: who also first found the use of Artillery. Chap. 6.  
IT is evident, that War, & discord among men, took their first hold, or stay, on the sin of our Forefathers: as appeareth, in that one of the first borne sons of Adam, who left not to lay violent, & bloody hands on his Brother: so that loosing even here our Original justice, malice and discord afterward never left their reign amongst us. In such sort, that War, and Enmity began even among the first borne. But the science of War, or the Art military itself, with the perfect manner to order many in Battle against many, (for that the first fountain thereof is of sin, the middle also continually, and for the most part the end is nothing but cruelty, blood, and miserable impiety) is now in such worthy, and Honourable reputation, that the Art itself, and the well skilled therein, are far now advanced above the fautors of all other prudent, and industrious exercises, as most esteemed above all other virtuous practices in the World. Diodorus Siculus, with others, affirm that Mars was the first that ordered, and devised, the subtle polices of War, for which causes the Poëtes termed him (but fabulously) the God of Battle. Cicero attributeth the Honour of this 
Lib. 3. de Natura Deorum.  invention to the Goddess Pallas, by means whereof she was named (as he saith) Bellona, unto which opinion accorded diverse Poëtes, gaynesayinge the opinion of that first, and ancient springe of War, which josephus in his first book of his Antiquities, even in the first Age, & before the blood, attributeth unto Tubal, the most expert therein, in his time, who by his industrious, and painful practices, perfected himself in the guiles, and advantages of War. Others some suppose that it first began after the blood, so that to learn the truth it seemeth very difficile, who was the very first beginner, and Father of this matter. Which how so ever it was, it well appeareth, that in the beginning, Wars and dissensions only grew among Princes, more for Ambition, & desire of Honour, than any where to impoverish or spoil one the other. justine, and Trogus Pompeius, report that Nynus King of the Assyriens, was the first that led an Host out of his Country, for Avarice, & to Conquer the Territories of an other. Fabian the Praetor, affirmeth well the same, in the beginning, of that little part, that resteth unto us, of his History: to which also condescendeth S. Augustine. This Nynus so bore himself in this practice of War, that he subdued in short time many Cities, and Countries, which he left in quiet possession to his Successors: which continued from time to time, unto his posterity, according to the computation of S. Augustine, Eusebius, and Diodorus Siculus, thirteen hundred years, descending evermore from the Father unto the Son, with out default at any time of Heirs in right line, by the number of thirty and three Kings, and as some others report, thirty and six: until in the end it came into the government, of that Monster Sardonapalus, in whose time this so long continued an Empire, came then into the hands and handling of the Medes. This Nynus then, as record these Authors, was the first Conqueror, known in all the world, although we read of certain Wars before him: but it appeareth as we have said, that it was not, to possess & Conquer the Countries of others, but for pride only, and glory of the world: as is written of Vessor King of Egypte, who paste out of his Country against Tanais Prince of the Scythians, which met him, and gave him Battle, and remained victorious, who not withstanding never deposed him from his Crown, or Country, as had practised the above remembered Nynus. Wherefore, he may be thought the first, that ever gave forth any Laws of Arms, granting to the Conqueror all the possessions and treasures of the Conquered. Touching their Weapons, wherewith they invaded, defended, putting in execution their wrouthfull, angry malice, and ire, it is to be supposed, that in the beginning they used none inequality of Arms, but as the Poet Lucretius recoumpteth, they first began with the nails and teeth, and after that to acquaint them with the staff, & stones, which this day yet are only used of certain barbarous Nations, not yet by the malice of man, having drawn out of the earth iron, to do force, and oppression on their Neighbours. Pline writeth that in the first Wars of 
Lib. 7. Cap. 16.  the Moors, against the Egyptians, they entered the field only with Pikes, and javelins, and after that by little and little, it came within few days to such pass, and end, that men were provided of such strange kinds of Arms and Armoures, that it was rare to behold, the one still to kill and murder the other. Of the inventors of these things, we find diverse opinions. The poets in their Fables, attribute the invention of these Weapons unto Mars. Pline reporteth that the etolians were the first that ever bore Lance in field, and addeth also, that the Lacedæmonians first found the Pertisan, the Sword, & for defence also the headpiece. But Herodotus saith, that the Egyptians first framed the Tergotte and Sallette: As also Midas of Misena, the 
Lib. 4.  Coat of Maale, and the Breast plate, and finally one of Etolia, the first Dart that was used. It is said that Pantasilia Queen of the Ammasones, first fought in field with Gleave, or Halbarte: And Scythus Son of jupiter, first found, how to use the Dart or Arrow: but others some think the contrary, attributing it to Persia. And Diodorus, not alone, asscribeth it to Apollo. The inhabitants of the Isles, Baleares, (called now in our time Maiorque and Minorque) as hath Vigetius, in his Book of the Art of War, were they that first found to cast Stones with the Slinge. So that men according to the time, their affairs, and variety of invention, have searchte, and found out sundry sorts of Weapons. And this hath it chanced, in my fantasy eftsoons, that in one, and the same time, in places far distant, the same kind of weapons have been framed by diverse, not one, at all wetinge of others devise or practise. Wherefore the less to annoy the Reader, I leave to gather more variable opinions, which well might serve here not impertinent to our purpose: as to recoumpte in like sort, who were the inventors of so many strange instruments and devices of War, to shake, and overthrow great Walls, and Fortresses. Eusebius affirmeth, that Moses was inventor of these 
Lib. 9 de preparatione evangelica.  huge and strange Engines. plutarch addeth, that Archilas Tarentinus, and Eudoxus were the first that reduced this Art to a perfection, and that they devised sundry instruments, to weaken walls and great houses. The Beliers, as hath also Pline, found the use of the Sword at the siege of Troy: but as vitrvuius reporteth, it rather was at the siege of Athens. The Scorpion wherewith they used to throw huge, and great Stones, as again hath Pline, was first devised by the inhabitants of Crete and Syria. The Phoenicians first advantaged themselves with the sharp, and piercing Rebute: but these all were trifles of little weight and importance, far surpassed in cruelty, by the invention of Shot, in diverse sorts, and Artillery. The first invention of which, some attribute unto an Almaigne, whose name we find nowhere, as unworthy of memory. As report Blondus, and R. Volateranus, the first that used shot to their behoof and profit, were the Venetians, against the Inhabitants of Genua, in the year of our Lord a thousand, three hundred, and four score. Howbeit, in my judgement, this invention was yet more Ancient, for that we Read in the Chronicle of Alphonsus, the eleventh King, by just account, of Castille, who at the Conquest of the City Algazare found, while he besieged the Town, in the year of our redemption, a thousand three hundred forty and three, that the Moors from within, threw out among the enemies certain thunders through long Mortars, or troughs of iron: and this was almost forty years before that, that Blondus recordeth. Again before that, it is reported by the said Alphonsus, which semblably conquered Toletum in Spain, that one Petrus Bishop of Logio, writeth that in a certain Battle done on the Sea, betwixt the King of Tunnye, and Morus King of Sibilia, whose faction Alphonsus favoured, that the Tunnigeniens threw on their enemies, certain Bombards or Tons of fire: which by all likelihood might be deemed Artillery, although it were not in such perfection, as now, and that was four hundred years before and more.   

¶ For what cause Man goeth upright: as also why fasting, then when he hath Eaten, he evermore is found more weighty, and poysant: and why in conclusion he poiseth more dead than living, with others, such not impleasant Accidents. Chap. 7.  
OF the Composition of man sundry are the considerations, of which Lactantius Firmianus a part, as also some others, have written, large, & weary volumes: in which one thing, among others many, requireth some exact & particular examination. Which is, that it hath pleased God to frame all Creatures, Man only excepted, with the head hanging, and stoupinge forward, their eyes still fixed, or for the most part, on the Earth: and not only brute Beasts, but all plants and Bodies vegetable. As is seen in trees, which have their heads, or roots fast lockte, or hid in the earth, the bows, or branches mounting into the air on high. But Man he hath created with eyes bent towards Heaven, his body straight and right, his face advanced on high, Goddess works still to contemplate, & consider. And although for this matter, it might suffice to allege the only providence of God, yet seemeth it to savour of some Mystery, or Secret, and therefore worthy of some further consideration. Our Disposition then most assuredly learneth us, yea by most plain, and evident sign, that we are not created, and framed for the Earth, to have in admiration things base, and transitory: but to be busied in things on high & heavenly. Of which with Man, no other Creature may communicate: unworthy, and incapable of such, and so great benefits: Man only for them, even from the first ordained. God hath created all creatures with head hanging, and bent still to the ground, to show, that he to Man hath given over them, all kind of Rule, and Authority to order them. Which thing is well noted of Lactantius Firmianus, who saith: That God having determined to created Man for Heaven, all other Creatures unreasonable, only for the Earth: he made Man a creature capable of advice, right, and straight, naturally ordained, and instituted to Celestial Contemplation: to the intent he only might reverence him, that he might honour the place of his first springe, and beginning, that he might acknowledge the Country that he is borne to: shaping other Creatures bowing and stooping, as having no part, or participation of Heaven. Aristotle, who had of the true faith no feeling, 
Arist. Lib. 2. de Natura Animalium.  saith: That only Man, among other Creatures marcheth upright: for that himself, and his Country are not Terreane, but Celestial. And further, That the office of Divine minds, is to understand, and perceive, in which function, neither should Man have known how skilfully to have ordered himself, had he been of a lumpish, heavy, or unfittinge shape: for that the weighty mass, and huge lump of the body, yieldeth the memory, and recordation with other parts of the Soul, insensible. S. Thomas, who left no matter untouched, or unexamined, in his Exposition of Youtke, and Age, hath to this purpose, such words as follow. For two causes was Man formed right, beholding Heaven: The one, for that he should be the perfectest of other Creatures, and such as should taste, or saver of all Celestial qualities. The other, for that in the proportion, and temperature of his body, he is more hot than any other Creature, and that the nature of heat is evermore to mount, and ascend upwards. Other Creatures, as far inferior, as also less perfect, less participate in these Celestial qualities, and less natural heat have they in any sort to advance them. For which cause, neither are they of the same frame, or proportion with Man. It seemeth, that in this place S. Thomas followed the opinion of the Platonistes, who affirmed that natural heat, with sundry the Vital Spirits in Man (in which he more aboundeth then any other living Creature) are the only causes that he marcheth uprightly, advanced in manner so perfect, and so seemly, for that by the force, and vigour of the foresaid powers and blood, he addresseth himself upwards. That which his endeavour more perfectly to accomplish, he further again is aided by the true proportion, and mixture of the Elements: of which he borroweth his first springe, and beginning with such equality, and convenient weight, that he fitly, and commodiously walketh, addressing himself to look on the marvelous frame of Heaven. Now then sith Man, of part, by the perfection of his Soul, as also of part, by the excellent feauture of his Body, is beroughte with the love, and contemplation of Heaven, he should only work, think, and devise things Heavenly, & Spiritual, disdeininge the Earth, with all things thereon transitory. But we be in such sort enamoured with the vile consideration of worldly pleasures, that for the most part having our eyes, and countenance bent to Heaven, the heart lieth soylde below upon the Earth. Again concerning Man, of whom we have here spoken, Pline remembreth an other thing, which though it be not of such importance, as are the others, yet may it of some part content, and please the Reader, especially to whom experience hath not revealed it, found notwithstanding daily to be true, of all such as please carefully to experiment it. He saith, that Man dead, poiseth more than when he lived: that which he also affirmeth in all other kind of Creatures. Again he saith, that Man having eaten in the morning, poiseth less, than when he was before fasting. Which thing is by Erasmus in a certain Probleame of his confirmed. Who also in the same remembreth other some things not unworthy of reading: yéeldinge the same reasons, with Pline, for the confirmation thereof, grounded on the consideration of the Vital Spirits, and Air, as is above rehearsed. Whereas the contrary seemeth to have some show of truth, for that who so shall take at any time his refection, layeth up within himself, the poised and weight thereof. Notwithstanding, it is evident, that the refection always increaseth the vital Spirits, which solace, and comfort man, increasing, and multiplying natural heat within him. Hence cometh it, that when one man from the ground assayeth to lift an other, the lifted is then more weighty, when he doth breath or convey his wind out, not redrawinge it again for the small time of that practice: the which when he retaineth in his body & keepeth in, is found by mean thereof, more light than he was before: Again who so fast runneth, neither may he for that time either breath, or blow much, for restraining his breath, he findeth himself more agile and quick, for that the Air being an Element very light, desireth to rise up, and to mount aloft, where his natural place is, of rest or abode: as experience may learn us, in a skin or bladder, which empty, & not puffed up, thrown into the water, sinketh continually, & resteth on the bottom: but full of wind, or blown out, swimmeth still on high. Pline in the same place again recordeth, that man's body in the water drowned, and after a time rising from the bottom on high, if it be a man, he evermore hath his face turned from the Earth upwards, but if it be a woman, she continually floateth in manner and sort contrary, which thing Nature hath only in such wise provided, to cover the parts of woomen, which always should be secret. Again, also an other reason may be given, for that woman before, by mean of her paps or breasts, is found more weighty, but man behind, because of his shoulders, more gross or greater, then are those of woomen.   

¶ Of the excellency of the Head, above all other members of the Body, and that it is not good to have a little Head, or straight Breast, as also whence it is, that we account it courtesy, to take of the Cap, or Hat, in saluting an other. Chap. 8.  
IF it be an especial Prerogative, among all other Creatures, granted unto man, that he should have his body, of such perfect, and such desired shape, his face advanced of Heaven evermore, & heavenly things to advice him. Then assuredly the Head, which in man far surpasseth, both all, and every part, which also is the highest among the others all, aught by reason's law the advantage to have, and pre-eminence in each respect and case. As in deed each part employeth his skilful pain, loyally to guard, & keep the Head from harm, in such sort, that when so it is in danger, or any peril else, forthwith the Foot, the Hand, the Arm with the others all, toil to defend the Head from all grief and annoy, for in the Head consisteth the well being of them all: and the Head if it be pained, each part complaineth forthwith. S. Ambrose especially commending that part of the body, saith: That the frame or composition of man, representeth of some part, the face or countenance of the World: and as Heaven thereof is the chief portion most eminent and beautiful, the Fire, the Air, with the other Elements, to it inferior: so the Head in respect surmounteth each other part in Man, as Queen, Mistress, or Empress all alone: which as a hold or Castle, in the middle of a City, built on some Rock aloft, wherein, both Counsel and advise continually do lodge them, where power and authority have chosen to them their being. And Solomon, the eyes of the sage, are in the inner parts of his Head. Lactantius Firmianus saith, that God hath given to man his Head in place above, to the intent he should have rule & Empire over Beasts. Galene to it attributeth principality 
Gal. Lib. 1. de Morbis acutis.  over all other parts in man: and Plato in Timeo, in consideration of the prerogative thereof, termeth it, the whole body. It being then of so great importance, the Fountain also and chief springe, of each the powers in man, it is of necessity that it should be of fit proportion, and form convenable. Whence it cometh that Paulus Eginetus, in his first Book, De Medicina, saith: that a very little Head is a sign certain of a weak judgement, and that who so hath a very small Head, wanteth withal just quantity of brain. The same reason allegeth johannes Alexandrinus, saying: the little Head is as noisome and incommodious, as is the less compassed, or over strait Breast, for as (saith he) the breast, is the harbour of the Heart, & Lounges, which without many discommodities, may not tolerate or endure to be too straightly imprisoned, especially for that the heart being too closely shut up, cannot commodiously without annoy at any time move it. By means whereof, natural heat throughout all the whole body faileth, digestion also waxeth faint and féebleth: in semblable sort must it by like consequent follow, that the head, in which nature hath so artificially couched, the Organs of so many puissances, or powers of importance, should be of proportion and quantity convenient. Galene in like sort unto these accordeth, saying: that the little Head is sign of little wit, and of a brain less firm or stable: but if it be of quantity, convenable and decent, it than argueth a good wit, as also a sure & fast memory. The Philosophers affirm, that Man having his Head once stricken of, incontinently becometh unable to move or stir, although the force of respiration should not thereby be extinguished, but for that the Veins are sundered, the only means, & sole instruments of Motion in all Creatures living. How be it, Auerrois reporteth, that he sometime beheld a poor infortunate patient, who being beheaded, walked hither, and thither afterward, in sight of all the people. It is also written of Dionysius Areopagita, that he, his head being stricken of, went notwithstanding from the place of execution, one full League or more. But this no doubt, was more miraculous, then natural. Among all other Creatures living, Man only and Horse, as affirmeth Pline, wax white, or hear towards their later days or end. And Man, for that he 
Pline, Lib. 2.  hath his head more round, higher advanced, and voidest of putrefaction, is therefore known more sure, and able, as on the contrary, who so savoureth most of this unperfit moisture, is found most commonly, of weak, and simple judgement. Some valiant personages have had their head, and parts thereof so well affected, and hard, that they continually, and in all places endured to be discovered. As among others, julius Caesar, Hannibal of Carthage, and Massinissa King of Numidia, who never would, not not in his extreme age, either to avoid the force of Rain, win, snow, or Heat, wear Cap, Hat, or any other kind of coverture, or light, or less fitting. The semblable read we of the emperors Adrian, & Severus, as also of sundry others. But for as much as we have of the Head sommething now here entreated, it shall not be impertinent, in few also to speak, for what cause, or whence it is, that we account it courtesy, when one man doth of his Cap before an other, in token (as we see) of duty, or of reverence. Which thing, though it be of less force, or importance, yet neither may we with ●●lence in this place well pass it. plutarch in his problems supposeth, 
plutarch.  that it hence cometh, for that they, who in the ancient time did Sacrifice unto the Gods, held, during the said time of Sacrifice, their Caps upon their heads: and that Princes, and great Personages, to do fit honour, or reverence to the Sacrificatour, in most humble, & lowly manner discovered themselves before him, to the intent it should appear, that in consideration of his function, they reckoned themselves continually his inferiors, as inferiors also to the Gods, by doing this duty to their appointed Minister. Further he saith, That it was the manner, that when any man met anywhere his enemy, or any one other whom he in heart did malice, he forthwith, and incontinently would cover then his head, so that it seemeth on the other side convenable, that before his Prince, or other friends, he should discover the same again. M. Varro, as is read in Pline, saith, That this in the beginning was not done for any reverence, that in the presence of 
Pline, Lib. 28,  any Magistrate, or any other, men discovered them selves, but only by the lack, and not wearing thereof to harden themselves: for which cause only, and to show themselves such, and not for any duty, as some suppose did they it. Galiot of Nargni is of this opinion, that 
Galiot, Libro suo de Homine.  who so, in doing reverence to an other, discovereth his Head, giveth him also with the same to understand, that in uncovering the head, the chief, and principal part in Man, he also becometh his loyal Vasaule, at the only will, or commandment of the other, with the same acknowledging to the other, his inferiority. L. Celius, in manner alleging the same reason, saith: 
L. Cel. Lib. 2,  As the Head in man's body is the most chief, and principal member: in defence of which, all the others employ their busy pain. So is it a great sign of courtesy, or reverence, when the same is discovered, or bowed unto any man. To conclude then, which so ever of these opinions be truest, it is notwithstanding both noisome, and discommodious to do this reverence continually to most men, or to all: and better were it, with courteous words, than otherwise, to discharge that duty.   

¶ That Man's death is to be accounted Fortunate, or less Fortunate, according to the estate that himself shall die in: with certain examples serving to that purpose. Chap. 9  
TO die one's, is a thing to all men common, but to know how, when, or in what sort, that yet hitherto hath never been revealed to any flesh: The whole only consisteth at our departure hence, in the state that we be found in, or perfect, or less perfect. In such sort, that no death may be judged infortunate, but such as findeth man in state less perfect. For Death, as it cometh to many men, a jest unthought on: so commonly lieth he hid in the corners of our houses, where we least suppose to find a stranger, such as is he, so hard, and so inexorable. Wherefore Man should be continually vigilant, and circumspect, well armed in Christ, against his unknown coming. To this purpose, of the strange death of many, we find every where infinite examples. Of which we only will here remember some, considering it to be a thing not altogether so rare, and marvelous, having thereof each where continual experience. A. Gellius reporteth, which also Valerius Maximus out of him 
A. Gellius. V Maximus.  avoucheth, That there is in Italy a certain Town called Crotonna, in which there was an inhabitante, who hight Milo, in all kind of Plays, or practices of manhood, or dexterity, the most valiantste, and most happiest that in his time lived. This man (such was his hap) in traveling on a time, as he passed under the side of an high, and great Mountain, which drew himself aside out of the common path, into the shadow, perhaps, with mind somewhat to have arrested him: where, among other trees, he found an Oak half cliven, or sundered by force of Wedge, and Bitle: in which some Wedge also was left then deeply fastened, who incontinently desirous to perfect the said work, laid hands on the tree right against the said Wedge, and with such force assayed to sunder it, that it to him a little yielded: by means whereof, the said Wedge slipped out. But immediately, were it (for so might it be) that his force failed him, or that he less supposed any danger in the matter, he yielded a little, as though he would have arrested him: by means whereof, the Oak incontinently rejoined again, both his hands fast locked within the tree: in such sort, that not being able thence to escape, nor any man there passing to help him in that danger, with pain and hunger, died a prisoner miserable: a fit, or fat pray to the Wild, and Savage beast. If the death of this Milo may seem to any man strange, no less strange also was the Death of the Poet Eschilus': for on a time going forth out of a certain Town in Sicily, of purpose only to take the air, and sun him, the weather then having been sommethinge sharp, and cold. This poor unfortunate man, whose head was each where, either bald, or hearlesse, after having made some little short walk, arrested him on a Hil, for his most advantage in the Sun, where pruning himself, with open head, shining, an Eagle by hap flew over him in the air, which having in her paws a great, and heavy Tortoise, espying the glittering bald head of the poor Poet Eschilus', supposed it to have ben●e some hard Stone, or Rock: wherefore, letting fall her Tortoise, with mind thereon to have broken it, for her present need, or dinner, threw it so right, that she nothing failed of her desired mark, but strake the silly Poet, and sundered therewith his head, whence he fell down suddenly dead: a thing right strange, and marvelous, consider he was then mounted even to the top of the Hill, assuring himself that from above nothing at all might grieve him. Baptista Fulgosius in a certain pretty Book of his, written of examples, remembreth among many other things, the infortunate Death of Charles. King of Navarre, who being old, & very sickly, feeling incessant, & insupportable pains, créepinge and running through all the veins of his body: to which, that his disease, his learned Physicians could find, or frame none, but this sole, and only remedy, which was to fold him in a Sheet bedewed with Aqua Vitae, which when it was sowed up, or stichte on every side, in default of a Knife to cut the thread of, one took in hand the Candle, the flame whereof, as soon as it had touched the Sheet, set all on fire suddenly, in such sort, that before they could shape him any kind of remedy, the sick King was scorchte, and burnt almost to ashes. Which was for his Veins, and all other maladies, his sole, and last remedy in this world. The Death again of Philemon might appear to most men marvelous, which beholding on a time an Ass eating Figs of from a Table, broke into such, and so extreme a laughter, that he in that sort there ended his life. Consider we then, if any where Man may assure him of his being, if Laughing, and in jollity, Death gain of him the mastery. Somme also affirm the same of Philistion, a Poet Comical, as also of sundry others, who with extreme joy, made sudden change of life. among whom, we read of Denis, the Tyrant of Sicilia, of Diagoras also, and of that famous, & worthy romish Matron, which beholding her Son returned, whom she supposed to have been slain in Battle, with joy in excess fell strait into an Extasye, whereof again she never after ward recovered. The adventure also of the shepherd Cratis, was in manner semblable, rare, and marueilons: who being asleep on a Mountain in the middle of his charge, was slain of a Maale Goat, jealous of his mate, with which Cratis most abominably had subverted the Laws of Nature. Whose strange hap (deserved notwithstanding). Ludovicus Celius, and Volateranus, alleging also to that purpose sundry Greek Authors, in many confirm for assured truth, and verity. Infinite such others I leave here to remember: as Pope Bonifacius, who through hunger only, miserably starved in fowl, and stinking Prison. The archbishop of Magonce, slain, and devoured of a troop of Rats, that each where pursued him. The Emperor Decius, of whom Emilius Victor reporteth, that having vanquished his enemies, was found dead drowned in a little small lake. In manner semblable in our time, died Lewes King of Hungary: and Sforce, Father of that most famous captain Duke Frances Sforce, who bowing himself something to have aided his Page, was as the other, most miserably, & infortunately drowned. Andrew King of Provace, was by his own Wife, some other Dames healpinge her, as not to be bought with price or Prayer, in cruelest manner that they might, most despitefully strangled. The Emperor Tiberius was also empoisoned of his wife Agrippina. Whence we conclude that Kings, Princes, and great Personages, are as well subject to these strange deaths, and infortunes, as are any their poor Vassaules or subjects: although perhaps they make (propte up with swelling and pompous pride) small reckoning, or account of these forepast dangers.   

¶ What speech was used in the beginning of the World, and how first began the diversity of Languages. Chap. 10.  
IN the first Age, or beginning of the World, even until the Flood, and many years afterward, men generally throughout had feeling but of one Language, all diversity then hid, and unknown manner of speaking. No man then spoke with tongue, or strange, or less familiar, no voice was from other in any thing then different, no new devise in speaking was then known, or thought on. The diversity than first, or confusion of tongues, the Mother of each mischief, & cause of all annoy, the sole Nurse of litigious, and impacable debates, was for man's sin and pride (as a just scourge) on him laid. Moses' in the History of Genesis recordeth, that Nemrod Nephew to Noë, by the line of Cain, with others more like proud, and of like ambitious nature, were then borne, when first among 
Genesis. II  men, presumption and malice reigned without all reason. At that time this Nemrod, with his unadvised company, determined together, to frame or build a Tower, which from the Earth might reach to the face of Heaven itself. Which thing they only did, having in memory yet the late forepast Flood, to escape the hand of God, if he at any other time should wash the Earth again. josephus in the first Book of his Antiquities, 
josephus.  saith: that he from all parts had such syéedy help, for the erection of his buildings, that in short time it grew both marvelous proud and pompous. And again he saith, that they laid the foundations thereof so deep and so broad, that though it were of so incredible height, as the Scriptures make plain mention, yet by all conjectures possible, the breadth thereof was more. But God who justly chastised this proud presumptuous enterprise, though not with pain deserved, gave in that present instant, so many diverse tongues, so strange, and so unknowen, that these who all before spoke one, and the same Language, spoke then thréescoare and twelve, so far and different from the first, that few among them had feeling, or meanings of the others mind. By means whereof, such enmity, and present discord grew, that not only this work than rested there unperfect, but every man with those, that understood his speech, retired to possess some place apart, or Country to themselves. For which cause it ever afterward was called the Tower of Babel, which is to say, of confusion. Isidorus affirmeth that 
Isidorus li. 15. of Etimologes.  it was high five thousand one hundred, three score and four paces, all of Brick, laid with clay, or ●lime in steed of Mortar, of which in that Country great plenty was each where found. In the said self place, whereas this Tower was built, as hath josephus, Isidorus, S. 
josephus. Isidorus. S. August. Orosus.  Augustine, and Orosus, was built also that most ancient, and most famous City, of which so worthy & so great matters are yet reported, called Babylon, situate or seated on the River of Euphrates, of which the Countries, or Territories adjacent, took their first or principal denomination, as Chaldea, & Mesopotamia. The Scriptures 
Genesis. 7.  also record, that the beginning of the reign of Nemrod was also in Babylon, wherefore it is reason that we be of the said mind with the above remembered Authors, that Nemrod also built this famous City of Babylon, which afterward was walled, become Rich, and Honourable, by the careful pain and industry of Semiramis, & Nynus. But to return to our purpose of Tongues, or Languages, it might here be a question disputable, what Tongue it was, that was that first, so common and general, which only and alone was known, before the division, and confusion of the others. S. Augustine discoursing in many, upon this matter concludeth, that it was the Hebrew, the very same that the jews speak yet at this day, which, as far as it may be gathered, by any mean possible out of the Scriptures, and as S. Augustine also deemeth, was conserved in Heber, of whom descended Abraham, and the Hebrews: for that neither he, nor any of his kindred, would help at all any thing in erecting this Tower. By means whereof, himself, and his family, which would not condescend to this sinful, and proud attempt, felt not thereof the due deserved pain. Wherefore we may presume that in Heber, and his family, the ancient, and first Tongue remained perfect, and entire, without any corruption or confusion of the same, in that Lineage only pure, and nowhere else in the World: whence it came to pass, that of Heber, it had his denomination Hebrew. Sundry Hebrews his Successors affirm, that this Language was that same, that was first spoken by Adam, as also of all the others, of that Ancient and first Age, conserved in Heber, and those that followed him, Abraham & jacob. In this same also wrote Moses his Laws. This then is the opinion of S. Augustine, & Isidorus, to whom we should give more assured credit, then to those that affirm, the Chaldean Tongue the first, which notwithstanding may be of part excused, for that these two Languages have a marvelous vicinity, their Characters almost uniform and like, as also well agreeing in other things many. Notwithstanding, in this matter, some curious have doubted, if two children, or a greater number, fostered in place secret void of all company, where they never might hear the voice of any other, what words they would frame, or Language in the end. Somme have thought that they first would speak Hebrew: others somme the Chaldean Tongue. But Herodotus saith, that on a time experience in this case was 
Herodotus.  made, by mean of a contention, or emulation then grown betwixt the Egyptians, and Frigians: each nation pretending by antiquity of their Language, pre-eminency above the other. For determination of which different in fine they concluded, that two Children should be nourished in manner above rehearsed, in such sort that they should never hear any word spoken at all, and that Language, that these children first began to profit in, should be reputed the first, and most Ancient, and they that spoke that, by consequent of most antiquity. He addeth again afterward, that a certain King of Egypt, caused to be fostered two children in a desert, to which no man ever spoke in any sort in the world, which when they were full four years old, he caused them without more, to be brought into his presence, where they eftsoons uttered this only word Ber, which doth in the Frigian tongue signify Bread: for which cause the Frigians were of all men reputed as most Ancient. This writeth Herodotus, whom many herein approve, & allege for authority. Notwithstanding were it (as he reporteth it) a truth, yet might it be that these Children by hap, some where should learn it, as by some Beast, Bird, or Sheep in the Field, which might frame the same, or some such like voice, they doing their pain to frame the same after them. But as for my part, I rest of this mind, that two Children in this sort fostered, would speak none other but the first Language, Hebrew: although I also durst in manner semblable to affirm, that to themselves they would shape some new, and strange Tongue, giving to all things their names unknown & unheard, as we see, that Children of themselves naturally: give names less known, to things of them desired, so that of part assuredly it appeareth, that nature would learn them a Language all new, before they should be perfect in any their Fathers. In this case experience may sufficiently school us, if any very curious, desire to know the effect hereof. In the mean time each man may here rest, of what opinion it best liketh him, nothing above, said withstanding the contrary.   

¶ Of the Division of the Ages of the World, with a brief discourse of diverse Notable matters chanced also in them, as also in fine, of the beginning of Realms and Kingdoms. Chap. 11.  
ALthough most men have some pleasure, and liking to talk, and discourse of the Ages of the World, to remember perchance things done in this, also not to pass what hath chanced in that: yet are there a great many that less know the true division of these times, ne what years each Age demandeth to his accomplishment. The Age therefore, or Life of the world, even from the first, until this day present, is divided by the most part of approved Authors into six only parts, or Ages: although divers reckon, and account on seven, according to the only computation of the Hebrews. But I, herein have determined to follow Eusebius, and the common opinion of all Historiographers, arestinge them on the above remembered number of sire. In division of which, there is found among many, such great confusion, and difference in reckoning, that hardly a man may herein assure him of a truth. They that deal herein, are divided into two parts: of which, the one followeth the computation of the thréescoare and twelve Interpreters, which translated the Old Testament from the Hebrew, into the Greek. The other, the Hebrews, and common text of the Bible: whose opinions I will, for contentation of all parts, hereafter remember. The first Age therefore, 
The first Age.  or part of the World, according to the common, and general account of all, was even from the Creation of the same, to the Inundation, or drowning of it again. Which was the Infancy, or tenderest Age (as some term it) of the World. Which Age was long, and of great continuauce. During which time, it is to be supposed, that great, and marvelous matters chanced unto men, although we thereof find no record, or History, saving that the Scriptures have, that after God had created Adam, and Eve, as also before him all other Creatures: over whom, he gave him general Dominion and Rule, as well over the beasts on the Land, as fishes in the Sea. Adam then begat two Sons, Cain, and Abel, which afterward also begat divers others: by whom the world began then to be well peopled. Moses writeth, that Cain built him, in the east part 
The first city of the world.  of the world, a City, which after his sons name, be called Honoch. In that time Lameth having buried his wife, hardened himself to choose again the second, (being the first Bigamus that ever was in this world) on one of the which he begat Tubal, who first found the mean to sing, by Art, the Viols eke, and also the Organs. Cain found the skill to work iron, and engrave thereon. In this Age, the World had also Giants: of which, sundry good writers thus much report, that they were of excessive stature, and force, marvelous rough to entreat, and enemies to Mankind. Finally, by the insupportable burden of Sin, the general blood washed the face of the whole Earth. By means whereof, all mankind, Noen only reserved, and such as were with him in the Ark, was drowned. And 
The contrariety of opinions concerning the first Age.  this first Age of the World, according to the account of the Hebrews, Filon, Beda, S. Hierome, and the common Text of the Bible, continued a thousand six hundred fifty and six years. But as the thréescoare and twelve Interpreters, Eusebius, and other Historiographers with them say, it had two thousand, two hundred, forty and two years. S. Augustine, two thousand, two hundred, seventy and two. And Alphonsus, King of Spain, two thousand, eightehundred, eighty and two. The second Age began in Noen, immediately 
The second Age.  after his coming out of the Ark, which continued until the birth of Abraham, and had according to the opinion of these Interpreters, Eusebius, Isidorus, and most part of all Chronicles, nine hundred forty and two years. But the Hebrews reckon many less, as only two hundred, ninety & two. With whom Filon, and josephus accord. S Augustine to that Age attributeth a thousand seventy and two years. Little certainty find we of any thing done, or chanced in this time: for no particular History at all remaineth. In general, concerning the beginning of Realms, and kingdoms, somewhat is found, as also touching the first Inhabitants of Countries, and Provinces. Noë issuing out of his Ark, planted to himself, with busy pain, a vinyeard: where, what chanced unto him, each man well knoweth. He, and his children begat many others, so that the world began well again to be peopled. Cam, the second son of Noë, begat to him Cus: of whom are descended the Aethiopians. He also had 
Cam.  Mesrain, of whom are descended in sort semblable, the Egyptians. And last of all, Canaan, from whom issued the Canaanites. His other Son japheth, engendered Gomer, and Magog, of which other Nations descended, too long here to remember. In this time was the Tower of Babel built: by mean of which, also then chanced the confusion of tongues. Whence, as josephus recordeth in the second Book of his Antiquities: Men sundered to inhabit Countries, and Isles by themselves, such, and such together as were skilled of a language. During which Age, Tubal, Son of japheth came to inhabit Spain, framing there to himself a Realm, or Kingdom. Other some say, that he indifferently was called either Subal, or Tubal, the Son of Falech, and Nephew to Heber. In this time the Reign of the Scythians began in the north, which evermore pretended Antiquity above other Countries: as well noteth Trogus Pompeius, and justin. By mean whereof, great enmity still grew betwixt them, and the Egyptians. The Art Magic, and Incantations began then by Cam, surnamed otherwise, Zoroaster. About the end of this Age, something before the birth of Abraham, according to the account of Eusebius, and Beda, the most famous and puissant reign of the Assyrians 
The beginning of the Assyrians.  began, having for their first Prince or King, Belus, which divers supposed to be the God jupiter: some the second Ninus, which (during whose time was borne Abraham) conquered and subdued sundry towns and provinces. Besides this an other kind of reign was there in Egypt, called Dinastia, where the first that was of supreme, and highest authority, had to name Vexor, or otherwise Vezor, as hath Eusebius: who about the end of this second Age, instituted the Reign or Kingdom of the Sicionians, in Peloponesus, now called Morea, where Agis is supposed to have been the first King. In this time began now Idolatry & Gentility. This much confusely have we gathered of this Age: in the end of which also the most worthy, & most renowned City of Ninive, was builded of marvelous and incredible bigness: which as we find in holy writ, was in compass no less than three days journeys. Incontinent after this, began the third Age, even in the birth of Abraham, 
The third Age.  until the Prophet David, which without all contradiction, or gainsaying of any, continued nine hundred, forty, and two years, unto which only Isidorus addeth two: which Age we may call the Adolescency of the world, for that, in that time all things were marvelously augmented, and increased. In the beginning of this Age Semiramis the wife of Ninus, not only attempted, but ended also, and perfected, sundry renowned, and valiant exploits, having taken on her man's apparel, and feigning herself to be the young Prince Ninus, after which sort she lived and reigned long time, conquering with the sword many Lands, and Countries, she re-edified, & walled the famous City of Babylon. About this time happened the Peregrination of Abraham by the open and express commandment of God. Then also obtained he his happy victory against the four Kings, redeeming Loath, whom they carried away prisoner. Now also began the first Reign of the Amazons. The pharao's, Kings of Egypte now also began to flourish. Sodom 
Pharaoh, in the Egyptian tongue, signifieth King.  and Gomorra were destroyed in these days. In the time of Isaac, began the Empire of the Argives in Thessaly, & while his sons lived, jacob and Esau, the Kings of Costa began also their reign, of whom the first had to name Acre. A little after this was joseph sold to the Egyptians, in such sort as hath the History, as also how his Father, his brethren, & their children went also into Egypt, where such Israelites as descended of them, lived, as accounteth Beda, four hundred & thirty years: with whom accordeth S. Augustine in his book, De civitate Dei. During this Age Hercules of Libya, came into Spain, where he reigned▪ & after him juer, Brigus, Taga, Beto, Gerian, & others, of whom Berosus, with other good authors remembereth us. In this time was also first founded the City of Seville, which is accounted for one among the others of most antiquity in the world, as well recordeth Berosus, with others. First this City had to name Ispalis of Ispal the son, or Nephew of Hercules, 
Ispalis.  who long reigned, or ruled there: who also, as some say, laid the first foundations thereof, or built it, although Isidorus affirm that it was named Ispalis, for that it was seated in a place watery, or in a marish, where they were compelled for better assurance of their foundation to beat into the ground great stakes, beams, or trees, which how so ever it was, this City of Ispalis, was after called Spain, as writeth Trogus Pompeius, justine, and others. And after this again julius Caesar called it Seville, enriching and amplyfiing it in such large sort and manner, that it after was the seat there, or resting place of the Romans, being also before that very noble and honourable. But to return to our purpose, after this again was Moses borne, under whose conduct the Hebrews, came out of Egypt, in which time also lived job, the just. And after this came that general 
The Inundation of Thessalye.  Inundation on Thessaly, when great Kingdoms grew then in divers Lands, & Country's. In Aethiopia than first reigned Ethiopus, in Sicilia, Siculus: in Boecia, Boecius. So that Countries than received their denomination of Princes, as of Sardus, Sardina also, the first King or Prince there. In these days flourished the famous Troy: then also was jason busied in conquering the Fleece of Gold, whence in like manner proceedeth the known History of Medea. Now were the Amazons of greater power, then in any other time, and now began the Kingdom of the Latins in Italy. About this time Paris also ravished Helena, the only cause of the long war, and destruction of Troy, of the coming of Aeneas into Italy, as also of other things innumerable, which in few may not be spaken. Then ended this third Age, and the fourth began, even in the beginning 
The fourth Age.  of the reign of David, second King of the Hebrews: which continued until the transmigration of the jews into Babylon, four hundred, four score and five years: but Beda reckoneth fewer, four hundred seventy, and four only. This Age might well be termed the lusty 
Mundi Iuuen●…  Age of the world: during which, infinite matters happened, whereof all Histories are full. Now that good King David obtained sundry victories, as well against the Philistians, as also against the Ammonites, revenging himself, for the injury done to his Ambassadors: he did also to die the captain of the Assyrians. After him, in that place succeeded the wise King Solomon, who built that rich, & famous Temple of Jerusalem, after whose death the Kingdom was divided, jeroboam succeeding in ten families, & Roboam his son in two. After this the Empire of the Assyrians, which then had continued twelve hundred years, by the death of Sardonapalus, was utterly subverted, he was one of the richest & greatest monarchs in the world, who not withstanding by Arbactus slain, the Empire came into the hands or possession of the Medes. About this time the Princes of Macedon began to frame their Empire, as the greeks in manner semblable now used to account their years by Olympiades', which were certain feasts and practices 
Olympiades'.  of agility, which they continually used every five years, with Prizes appointed for such as best deserved them. Dido now built the renowned City of Carthage, as Rome also by Romulus, & Remus then began, where the Roman Kings continually abode & arrested them. In this time the great City of Bizance waxed mighty and honourable, which afterwards lost her name, and was called Constantinople. After this, weary wars grew in most places, and inpacable dissensions, with alteration and change of great Segnories and Empires. Whereof the Histories of that Age, are each where full and abundant. In the end of this Age Nabuchodonosor, King of the Medes and of Babylon, besieged Jerusalem, which he sack, and subverted, as also the Temple, whence he brought the people of judea prisoners with him: & thence is that, that we now remember, the transmigration of Babylon. When, or at which time began the fift Age of the World, which continued until the 
The fift Age.  Birth, & Nativity of our Saviour and redeemer jesus Christ, both God and Man, five hundred, four score, and nine years, by common account of all men. In these days were many valiant and puissant Princes rich, and politic common Weals and Country's, in such sort, that it great marvel is to read, & consider the strange and miserable subvertions, immutations, and change of estates, the rare raising and gathering of huge Armies, and troops of men, such were they, so terrible, and so common withal, that better it is thereof nothing to speak, then to speak in few. Not long after this, began that famous Monarchy of the Persians, (which aswell by mean of other victories that Cyrus each-where obtained, as also that he vanquished and subdued Croesus' King of Lydia) waxed of all others most rich, and renowned: notwithstanding Cyrus, after he had reigned fully thirty years, was himself discomfited, and beheaded by Tameris Queen of Scythia. Three 
Tameris.  score and ten years of this Age accomplished, the Hebrews were delivered out of bondage and captivity, and the Temple was re-edified by Solomon at Jerusalem. The romans now altered their state of government, they deposed their Kings & choase to them Consuls, of which the first was L. Brutus, and after him L. Colatinus. In Greece now flourished good Letters, and Chivalry, so that thence issued, no less famous Philosophers, than Captains excellent. Thither came Xerxes to have Conquered it, with a multitude incredible, but was forced to retire again with equal shame and detriment. After this began Philippe his reign in Macedon, which subdued Greece, the Mother of Learning & Chivalry, which in that time fostered Demosthenes, Themistocles, Epaminondas, Agesilaus, Zeno, Plato, Aristotle, with many such others. Philippe dead, his Son Alexandre dwelt not still in Greece, but went thence into Asia, which in short time he conquered, subverting the Empire of Persia, and by means of the victory obtained against Darius, he remained ever afterward the only Emperor, and sole Monarch of all the whole world. But after his death, division was made to his Captains, of all and every his Segneuries, by mean whereof much enmity, and discord grew, and thence also wars generally throughout all Asia, as also through a great part of Europa withal. Now began the romans, and the people of Carthage to grow great & mighty, each of them labouring to be the only Lords and Princes of the world. Long wars then continued betwixt these two Cities, in such sort, that each nursed for their defence most honourable and valiant Captains. As Carthage, Asdrubal, Hannon, Hannibal: Rome, the Fabians, the Scipios, the Marcels, the Emiles, and such others. But in fine after long wars, and much blouddeshedde, Rome remained victorious: Carthage spoiled and sack, and afric become tributory. This victory obtained, the romans proud, & envious of the prosperity of Greece, sought by all means possible, war also against them, by occasion whereof Greece also become tributory as the other. Not content with these, Avarice yet forced them to stretch their foot farther, and so passing into Asia, vanquished Antiochus, and after him Mithridates, titlinge themselves Lords of all Asia the less, as also of Syria, Palestina, and Egypte: and on this side, of all France, Spain, England, with the greater part of Almaigne. In which Conquests their chief Captains were, Metellus, Sylla, Marius, Lucullus, Pompeius, and Caesar, with many others. Now came it to pass, envious ambition inflaming their hearts, that civil wars, and commotions burst out amongst them, each seeking preeminencye & authority over other: but in fine the Empire remained only to Caesar: unto whom, after many good haps in this life, his Nephew, or Son adoptive, succeeded Octavian, who having once broken the force, and courage of his enemies, enjoyed the Crown in quiet peace, and tranquillity, so that living in concord, and amity with all Princes, he caused to be shut up the gates, or doors of his God janus, which in wars were never at any time opened. The accomplishment of time now coming, this fift Age here ended: at which time was borne, the redeemer of mankind jesus Christ the just, in the year from the Creation of the world, according to the Hebrews, three thousand, niene hundred, fifty and two years, and according to the three score and ten Interpreters: Eusebius, and the most part of Historiographers, five thousand, one hundred, four score and ninetiene: but accounting after Orosus, five thousand and twenty years: after Isidorus one year less: but according to Alphonsus, six thousand, niene hundred, four score and four, which are many more than any others account of. In the Birth then 
The sixth Age.  of our Saviour began the sixth Age, which hath continued until this day, and shall do until the last, and dissolution of the World. During which time, a great 
S. August. in. 15 16. & 17. De Civitate Dei. Beda. Eusebius. Filon.  part of Christiantie, hath been governed only by the Emperors of Rome. Which from time to time successively, by the space of certain years, lived in great pomp, wealth, and prosperity. But shortly after the Goths, as also some others. And last, that false and accursed Prophet Mahomet, did in such sort shake, & weaken this Empire, that it become less, and less able, then in a few years before, so that in sundry parts of the said Empire, were instituted new Kingdoms and Segnories: by which ensued continual discords, and slidinges from the Faith. The enemies of Christ, and of his Cross, taking now good occasion to molest the poor Christians, robbing, and spoiling them of their lands and revenues. The computation of these Ages, which I have here remembered, are only taken of these Authors above remembered, to weet, of S. Augustine, Isidorus, Beda, Eusebius, Filon, Orosus, men all of singular authority and learning: Vincentius also: and of our time Petrus de Aliaque: and above all the others, johannes Driodonus, a faithful commenter on the sacred Scriptures. The Ports have reckoned of this world, four Ages, and no more: the first of Gold, which they called Golden: the second of Silver, which they termed the Silver Age: the third of Brass, or Steel: the fourth of Iron, which as before they called the Stéely, and Iron Ages, giving forth by the same, that as the malice of Man began each where to grow, so did the excellency of these metals in manner semblable diminish: unto which it pleased them to compare these above said parts of time. And in this manner hath Ovid in his Metamorphoses divided them.   

¶ Of the strange Life of Diogenes, surnamed Cinicus, as also of his Sentences, Propositions, and Answers. Chap. 12.  
THere were five the had to name, Diogenes: of which each one for his Virtue, and excellent Learning, merited well in this place to be commended to the Posterity. We notwithstanding will speak but of the one, Diogenes Cinicus, whose Life, and Doctrine surpaspassed far the others: his Manners, and Conditions, as they might of part appear to any, strange, so were they nenerthelesse founded on bounty, and Virtue. He evermore lived in voluntary Poverty, exposing his body to all toil and travel. In the Summer he would lie on the Sands, in the face of the Sun, to able himself the better to endure all force of heat. And in the Winter, he embraced great lumps, or heaps of Snow, to acquaint himself with s●…che extremity of Wether. He fed on gross meats, and such as were of vile price, to the intent he might never feel want of Sustenance. He never had any place, that he could term his place of abode, or his home: everywhere, where it chanced him to be, he did eat, drink, and sleep without respect: he never spoke any thing, but when it was necessary, or behoveful: neither in the day ware he any other apparel, than his wonted Night Gown, or ragged rob of no price. He had a little Bag or Pokette, wherein he kept his meat, poor and simple, such as it was: his staff also to stay on, served him in steed of horse, when he was sick, or weary. A wooden dish had he to drink in as he travailed through the Country, which he immediately broke, espying on a time a boy drinking in his hand, saying: What needeth me to use a vessel framed by Art, sith nature hath lente me one, as fit as any other. In like sort used he his Trencher, that he usually carried with him, beholding an other man that had framed him one not unfitly, of Bread. This Philosopher spent the greater part of his time in Athens, whither he retired, banished from his Country. Long time for his dwelling house, he had none other, but a Tun, or Tub: of nothing made he any account, but of Virtue only, utterly detesting to committee any sin. touching Honour & riches, he so little regarded them, as he also did all those that posseste them. Of custom he used to say, that he never sufficiently could marvel at the unadvised folly of men: which contentiously would quarrel, murdering each the other, often time for the wall, or inner part of the way. But which of them most studiously embraced Virtue, thereof could he never see any matter betwixt them. He compared the Rich man, ignorant, to a sheep of Gold: and when he asked any thing that was unto him necessary, he said: that he begged it not, but desired restitution. giving him to understand, that the goods of the Rich were gathered of the poor. another usage also had he, which for the appearance, or show that it maintained, of folly, had yet notwithstanding a secret, or close Mystery. For oftentimes most humbly he would desire an Alms of Images of Stone, Timber, or semblable matter, as though they had been men perfect, having Life: which he did, he said, to arm himself with patience, when any where in his need, he should be of any refused. And when he at any time sought an Alms, he used these words: If thou of custom use to give to the poor, then give thou me sommethinge, for of all others, I stand in greatest need: and on the other side, if it so be, that thou never haste given to any, begin then to bestow now some present on me. On a time he entered into the house of a certain man, which before had been very rich, & prodigal, but then was very poor, needy, & indigent: in such sort, that he nothing had to Sup on, but only an unsavoury, & sour Salad. By means whereof he said: had thy diet heretofore not been much better, thou shouldest not now have Supped so simply. giving him thence in few to understand, that the excess, that he sometime unmeasurably had used, had cast him into that griping, & pinching penury. One demanded of him an other time, what beast it was, that bit most grievously: To whom he answered, among beasts, savage, & furious, he that slanderously, and ill reporteth: but among tame beasts, evermore the Flatterer. An other demanded of him, why Gold looked yellow, or as it pleaseth some others, more properly pale: Because all men (saith he) assault, & lie in wait for it. Again an other demanded, If he needed not a Servant: To whom he said, no. The other replied, & asked who then should bury him after his death: he, saith Diogenes, that will dwell in my house. Being demanded again, at what time a man should marry him: The young man (saith he) must marry himself very timely: as for the old, or aged, he now needeth it no more. By which he would infer, & conclude, that it was in truth less expedient to marry: although it be supposed, that he more spoke it in mockery, then that he would have maintained it for an infallible Verity. Now as Diogenes was, in Life free, & in manners: so also was he in any word that paste him. For on a time as he paste thorough a street, viewing there a haughty, & sumptuous building, belonging to a Gentleman, of an infamons, & suspected Life. Over the gate, or entrance of which was written, that no man unhonest, might enter thereat. Turning himself about to such as thereby passed, incontinently demanded, which way entereth the Master of this fair Lodging into it? traveling as was his hap on a time through the Country, he by chance drew nigh to a very little village, altogether poor, & simply peopled: the Gates of which were large, wide, & very great, whereat, as loud, as he could, in laughing manner, he said: ye Inhabitants, shut up these your wide Gates betime, least happily your Town run out thereat. espying an other time a certain company shooting in the Cross Bow: among whom there was one less practised, or unskilful: by means whereof, he still failed very much of his mark, whose course when it came among the others to shoot, he immediately would step in before the Butt, justly covering or shadowing the white or mark, whereat the assistants were strangely amazed. But Diogenes said: I suppose I may more safely stand here, then else where, so ill, & so far of shooteth he from the mark. Of a young boy very fair and well favoured, but of manners lewd and dishonest, he asked, why carriest thou so vaughty, & so ill favoured a sword, in a scabbard so good, & so well fewtered. A certain company commended one, that had presented to Diogenes, some small gift or present: but Diogenes said, why rather commend ye not me, who well have merited whatsoever is given: letting them thence, by his answer to understand, that it far better is to deserve a good turn, then to perform it to him, that well hath merited it. He once desired contrary to his wont, (for never would he ask Money in gift of any man) of a prodigal fellow, a great sum of money, where at the other something moved, said: why askest thou of me only a matter ss unreasonable? It is saith he, for that of others at some other time, I stand in hope to receive something, but of thee after this ones, never again: taringe with the same, his unmeasurable expenses. Being also demanded, whence it came to pass, that men more willingly bestowed their Alms, on the Lame, the Blind, the Dismembered, the Goutte, Maungye, and on the Vlcerus, sooner than on Philosophers, and men to them like Learned: He said (an answer in mine opinion very pretty, and fitting) for this cause only moved, do they it, for that they rather fear they shallbe such, than Philosophers: and therefore more willingly they comfort and assist those, like to whom they may sooner be, then to the troop Learned. The sentences, & sage answers of this Philosopher, were infinite, which in silence I here pass, as well known to all the world. He was very sober & discrete, well learned in all the Sciences, he was the Scholar, or Disciple of Antisthenes, in the time of Plato, and Aristotle: he had in contempt all Arts, & Sciences, of which grew no profit or gain, as also those that studied them, more for curiosity, then for the love of virtue. He argued Astronomers, that only busied themselves in the contemplation of the Heavens, less regarding what they had to do on the Earth below. To musicans would he say, that they well knew how to accord their instruments, but not their rebellious and disordered affections. Hearing a certain Astronomer, skilfully discoursing of the Stars, he demanded when he came last out of Heaven. Unto a Sophistical Logician, toiling to prove, that there was in things no motion, no answer would he frame, but in derision forthwith, walks up and down before him: Seemeth this (saith he) to thee a motion, yea, or not? In this sort began to grow now the renowned fame of this worthy Philosopher throughout the whole world, so that Alexander the Great, coming by chance to Athens, would needs see, talk, and devise with him of certain points concerning Virtue. After some conference, at which time, his Majesty bespoke him in this sort: Diogenes, I well see that thou art poor, and standest in need of many things, therefore demand what so thou wouldst have, and I will give it thee: to whom he said: which of us two thinkest thou, liveth in greatest necessity, I that desire nothing but my dish here to Drink in, and a piece of Bread when I hunger: or thou, that being King of macedony, exposest thyself to all kind of dangers, only to enlarge thine Empire & Dominion, & that also in such sort & manner, that the whole world scarce sufficeth to assuage thine Avarice? On a time he was also taken of certain light horsemen, Athenians, by means whereof, though imprisoned, he never yet become either faint hearted, or dismayed: whence afterward removed, in place common to be sold, to any such without respect as should offer most for him. Where immediately a certain Merchant demandeth of the Trumpeter, or public Officer, whither he had authority to cell him, as also whither he were a bond man, or nay. Whereat Diogenes said to the Officer, answer him that thou haste here to cell a servant or bondman, but such an one, as well knoweth how to command and govern his Master. Aulus Gellius, and Macrobius report, that he in such sort bespoke Geniades, who was the above remembered Merchant that bought him, who also after gave him Master to his children. The same day therefore that he first had bought him, coming with him towards his Inn or lodging, Diogenes said to him, as if himself had been the Merchant: take heed now Geniades, it standeth thee on to obey me, in all that I shall anywhere, counsel, or command thee. To whom Geniades answered, it were far besides all order or reason, that the Servant should prescribe laws, to his Lord or Governor: but Diogenes said, seemeth it not unto thee good reason, that the ill affected patient, providing to him for his Money, some good and learned Physician, should in all things what so ever, obey and follow him? In manner semblable, the more warily and safely to conduct him, if the good Mariner for wage chose to him a Pilot, must he not do in all things his commandments? If then it be true in this case, as also in the other, concerning the infirmity and weakness of man's body: how much more than aught he, that standeth in need of counsel, and comfort for the soul, to obey the learned & advised Philosopher? All these things observed well Geniades: and in every of his affairs used the advice of Diogenes his Servant, committing to his charge, for instruction, his children, whom he in virtues lore, in short time much profited. In this sort, and after this manner this Philosopher lived ninety years in this world. Somme suppose that he died being bitten of a Dog. Others somme, that seeing himself very old and feeble: without any force now, or farther desire to live, with the very same courage and constancy that he had lived, did himself to die, and made change of life the same day, that Nature to great Alexander had for his last also assigned. A little before his end, his auditors seeing him so old, and so near his death, demanded him where he meant, or desired to be buried: to whom he said, his desire was to be laid in the wide and open field, whereat they all meruaylinge, replied, he ill advised them, for that in such poor, and simple manner bestowed, the Birds & beasts would devour his Carrion: then saith he to avoid that inconvenience, 'cause ye that my staff be set there by me: at which incontinently they broke out into a laughter, arguing him forthwith of manifest folly, for that the dead neither seeth nor perceiveth any thing: to whom, if they lack (saith he) these remembered senses, what mattereth it then, if rather the Birds & Beasts in their hungry necessity, pray on me, then under the Earth I should be of the worms consumed. Diogenes had none then so great a desire, to employ (as doth many this day, less advised) their treasure or riches, on pompuous Funerals.   

¶ Of the Excellency and commendation of Travail, as also of the damages that grow of Idleness. Chap. 13.  
IT lieth us on, of necessity, both by the Laws, and Commandments of God, to swink, and toil in this world continually: For our first Father having broken the Commandment of God, was banished, and chased out of Paradis Terrestrial: the Earth lotted to him for his portion, or inheritance: with charge notwithstanding to labour here, in continual pain, and travail. Which charge, he neither received for any term or time, but for ever without cease, as long as he lived: which neither appertained to the first man only, but unto all his Posterity, and Succession to the end. And although this necessity of Travail be laid on man, to call him to penance, yet is it a fit Medicine to assuage the wrong passed: for that by our labour we regain that, which was lost by disobedience: and so much the more (although it be unto us a present scourg) for that God hath condemned nothing that was of itself less good, granting to Man Travail, to turn, and labour the Earth. Also job saith: That Man is borne only to sweat, and to pain. Consider again, how our Saviour, and Redeemer jesus Christ, Man's only sovereign Lord, and Master, to the example of us all, lived in continual pain, and labour, even until the time of his Death, and Passion. Besides in his Parables, he sharply rebuketh such as any where consume, and waste the time idly, imbrasinge all those that are virtuously busied: using in an other place these words to this purpose: come unto me, all ye that are heavily laden, and I will refresh you. If we will pain ourselves to read the Scriptures, we shall find, that the ancient Saints spent all their days, and Life, in continual exercise of Virtue, and Godliness. Further, travail is not only conducible to the Soul, but also preserveth the health of the Body. For it by daily practice, becometh agile, strong, and well disposed: in it are augmented, and increased the Vital Spirits: the naughty, and superfluous humours consumed. As touching the mind, it thence exileth all impinous, and unchaste thoughts, preventing all occasion of error, and offence. Certain is it, that nothing of weighty importance, reacheth without pain to the desired effect or end, as on the other side, that ease, that is purchased with pain, is ever more than all others, more pleasant, and liking. He that taketh great pain, reposeth himself in ease: for to the weary man all things are fitting, and agréeant: His Meat to him is sweet, and savoury: He sound sleepeth without dream or vision: and all pleasures whatsoever, are to him both grateful, and acceptable. Who so travaileth not, nor never becometh weary, his repose to him dareth unperfit contentment. But to return to the commodities of the Body, wonted exercise frameth a man discrete, vigilant, well advised, and sage: and what else is profitable, thence issueth it, and springeth contintinually unto man. Travail is it that ordinarily provideth a man of all things: the same it is, that frameth to him fair houses to dwell in: commodious lanes, & paths to walk in: for the more ease of the poor passenger, great ships to cross, and overrun the tumblinge Seas: and armour to defend us from the force of the enemy: briefly, innumerable commodities thence take their beginning. By Labour the sterile soil becometh fruitful, and plenteous: to such as are dry, and withered, it conveyeth streams of Water, opening the bowels of the earth, whence Springs issue abundantly: it advanceth the ground, where so it is behoveful, overthrowing Hills, and Mountains that any where annoy us: it altereth the course of great Rivers, to moist therewith dry Countries: it also helpeth, and aideth Nature, forcing her to give forth, that of herself she would not: it tameth, and maketh gentle the Savage, and Wild beast: it fineth man's wit, and sharpeneth his memory, as also the other parts are thence only quick, and ready. To conclude, who so acquainteth himself with painful Labours, reapeth thence pleasing fruits, such as himself desireth. God will not that his elect possess Heaven by sléepinge. If the pompous, & sumptuous buildings, which thou each where beholdest: if the rich Castles, and palaces of Princes: if famous Cities well peopled, seem to thee great matters, know it to be the Sweatte, and toil of thine Ancestors. If in manner semblable the Arts, and Sciences content thee, know that they first sprang of the Divine Labour of such as here lived in the forepast Ages. When so thou beholdest the green and pleasant Fields, dainty Gardens, and well ordered Vineyards, account that they be all the sole fruits of Labour. For the Ideler knoweth not how to frame any thing, but rather disordereth what so he findeth any where perfected. By buste industry men attain to immortal renown. That was it, that commended these Sages to the Posterity, Plato, Aristotle, Pythagoras, with all the Learned crew: which never ceaste to pain their bodies, and minds, studying, writing, reading, and disputing, not minding at all, when they might at their pleasure eat, or sleep, or curiously, as most do, cover their carrion: to the use of these things notwithstanding, when necessity forced them, it was a thousand times to them then more pleasing, and savoury, then to any of these idle, and delicious gluttons. Whence cometh it, that Hercules liveth, to the Posterity so famous, if not by the mean of his twelve Labours? Whence grew Alexander so renowned through the world? julius Caesar also, with infinite excellent Kings, and Captains, if not by their vigilant, and incessant Travail? And on the other side, Sardanapalus, with such others, effeminate, as was he, by their careless security, fell into ruin, and destruction, and in the end died infamous, and miserable wretches. By means whereof, it lieth evident, of all men to be perceived, that if Idleness by painful care, be not done to exile, than all Offices must flide, and come assuredly to nothing: Mecanicall Arts, the study of Learning, and good Letters: all polices, and Civil Government: justice herself: the Laws: and in fine, the Nurses of Wealth, and Peace, must all without Labour and pain, be subverted. By her each where Virtue flourisheth, and reigneth: and without her, withereth without grace, or verdure: for who so in the Common Weal would minister justice, must continually be busied to order things rightly. To be short, no Virtue may any where be put in execution, without the assistance of careful pain, and Diligence. Thence cometh it, that Hesiodus said, That Virtue was only by 
Hesiodus.  Sweatte acquired. Advisedly, if we will, and exactly consider all, what so ever God hath in the world created, we shall find, that those things surpass the others in perfection, wherein he hath bestowed most pain, and travail. Behold we the Heavenly bodies, void of immutation: the Sun moveth continually: the Moon aresteth never: the Heavens themselves: the Stars, and planets, have been, are, and shall be in perpetual motion. The Element of Fire resteth not void of some operation: the Air without cease turneth itself from one place to an other. From the parts beneath, the little springs and fountains mount up perpetually: the Rivers still float, and shall do for ever: the Sea also useth his times to come, and go: the Earth, although in deed she areste her immovable, (for so is it requisite, to the intent man may pass on her to and fro endamaged, reposing himself at times, as nature requireth) yet is she nevertheless either idle, or unbusied, but giveth forth to the use of us, Herbs, plants, Trees, and Metals, as she that of duty is bound to maintain, and nourish such a number of Men, & Beasts, as on her dwelleth. So that if we now of these things with judging eye consider, we shall find, that Nature so much affecteth nothing, as without cease continually to busy herself in toil, & travail, as to form, frame, make, and unmake, to produce, to overthrow, to altar, and to change, to perfect, and organise things in their kind: not reastinge, or surceasing by any manner of means in the world. For confirmation whereof, the Old, & Ancient forepast Philosophers, never thought that they had spoken enough in commendation, & praise of virtuous exercises. Virgil saith, that incessant Labour surmounteth all things. Horace in his Sermons, that God to man hath given nothing without pain, and Travail. Euripides, Travail is the Father of Honour, and Renown: and that God assisteth him (saith he) that liveth in Sweat. And again, That, that only is the path unto Virtue: & without it, there is no honour, praise, or good adventure. Menander the Poet writeth, and in my fancy advisedly, that he, who in health liveth at any time idly, with more jeopardy hasardeth, than the afflicted, of an Ague. Like grace also hath in these words, Democritus, Voluntary Labour, savoureth of no pain. Hermicon, being demanded whence he had learned his Science: Of Labour (said he) and of long experience. Pythagoras commandeth, that man live honestly, and that he never leave, in Virtue, to pain, and weary himself: for custom (saith he) in the end, maketh it pleasant, and liking. Solomon referreth the Ideler, to the example of the Ante. If I should here remember all the examples of those, that by pain have posses●e the Chair of Honour, longer should I dwell hereon, then necessity requireth. It sufficeth then, in few to say, that there was never man famous in Martial affairs, or chivalry, in Learning, or else in chaste, and Virtuous manners, in no kind of Science, or Art Mecanical, but by continuance of Sweatte, and Travail. And further, no one in the whole troop of Loiterers, was ever in any Age renowned with virtues Title: or if any such were borne of Honourable Race, or Lineage, certain is it, that he either came to ruin, and misery, or otherwise lost his Honour, and Life: or at the least, he no where could with warrant assure himself: Damage, & shame the only and infallible fruits of foolish idleness, and security: of which also springe vices innumerable, as is in Ecclesiasticus approved in these words: Idleness engendereth all kinds of mischief. Ovid remembreth, that Venerye is no where thought on, but only among nice, and delicate Idelers: for (saith he) who so he be, less busied in Virtue, imagineth unchaste things, and inventeth Treasons, putting in execution all vice, and treachery. Ezechiel accounteth Idleness, among the other Sins, for which Sodom was, in such sort as we read, destroyed. And for my part, I know no thing, that with the slothful man prospereth. The fire, if it be not fostered, and covered with Wood, it fainteth, and wasteth, and in the end is extinguished. The Air, in obscure, and dark place, void of desired motion, becometh forthwith noysomme, and infectious. The Water deprived of her course in running, putrefieth without stay, annoyeth, and impoyseneth. If the Earth be not opened & laboured, she giveth none other fruits but Brembels, Thorns, Thistles, or such like. Gold, that desired metal, if it be not wrought and polished, looseth utterly his beauty: iron also, with others the semblable, if not continually laboured and kept, rust & waste, as experience learneth us. Whole Provinces, and Countries, not inhabited or peopled, are evermore barren and very infectious, in such sort that it appeareth, travail to be thereof the sole, & only Medicine. Houses and fair lodgings not inhabited, fall into ruin. High ways, and common paths, not frequented or used, are in short time closed, and shut up against the passenger: whence it now is open, and manifest, that whatsoever lieth unused or unlaboured, shortly consumeth and wasteth to nothing. Example in man, whose wits if they be not in continuance of study exercised, wax cankered, and with pain perform the wonted duty: the heart and mind also languish and faint, as unable to do any thing: and in fine all their forces quail and fall as dismayed. As I then before have said, that continual exercise frameth man agile, and disposed to all things: so say I now, on the contrary, that idle security annoyeth the complexion, and wasteth the good humours, increasing the superfluous, in excess in man's body. Galene saith, that it is a thing unpossible, that a man should live not labouring his body. Auicenna to the same accordeth, as also Cornelius Celsus, with others very famous and excellent Physicians. The Horse himself, with others such, brute, and dull beasts, being pampered still in stable, lose their pace, and other qualities. The ship that still rideth at Anchor in the Haven, gathereth moths & rotteth, but doth not so in voyage. The Soldier than marreth, when he long time reposeth himself, void of fear and careless. Again it is reported, that the improvident security of Hannibal at Capua, was the only cause that the romans gave him there the overthrow. Who so in Battle best traverseth him ground, fighteth, as is known, in most assured safety, but to him that loy●ereth, and arresteth him in his place, many dangers are assigned, and inevitable discommodities: the sun also on him, more than on the others, hath greater advantage. The Archer never shooteth to the bird that fleeth, but to her that arresteth her, or percheth any where, bendeth he his Bow, and fitteth his bolts. Further we see, that all kind of instrumeutes, not touched or played on, immediately become discordant, harrishe, & unpleasant: but kept in hand, & continually played on, feedeth the hearer with sweet notes and pleasant Harmony. Some kinds of Wine are there, which unless they be continually wrought too and fro in their vessels, corrupt and putrefy, to be served to no man. The precious & rich stone not wrought and polished, lacketh his natural commendation and grace, but perfected by the skilful and light hand of the jueller, maketh show of itself, and commendeth his virtue: yea the iron itself, the more often that in any your uses you employ it, the brighter shall his Glass be, and the fairer still it looketh. among brute beasts, these are to Man most liking, and acceptable, which most can sustain, of weary pain, & Travail. Here might we avoche, and allege sundry the opinions, as well of poets, as also Philosophers, condemning with one mouth the unprofitable Ideler, whose only authorities might accomplish, and perfect that, which we presently labour to prove in many. The Saints themselves, and Holy Fathers of the time past, accurse them: the lovers of Virtue, and the Learned detest them: Ovid, Plato, Horace, Claudian, & Virgil, with all the whole heap of learned poets writ, and ●…gh continually against them: each History beside is full of the discommodities ensuing Idleness. Plato, and Aristotle condemning this voice, exalt above measure, the practice of Chinalrie: whence, what so ever in War is necessary, is skilfully each where put in dre, and practised. The Emperor Adrian, on a time advanced one Turbus, a 
Turbus.  careful, and trusty Minister in the affairs of his Master: whom on a time as the Emperor behold, too painfully busied, as himself thought then presently, said: I would not, Turbus, that then shouldest kill thyself, or with too much perseverance, hazard thine estate. To whom he answered: if it please your sacred Majesty, the man that is favoured, and advanced by an Emperor; must on his feet die where he goeth busied. Q. Curtius 
Q. Curtius.  saith: that the maladies or infirmities, which issue or springe of idleness, are perfectly plastered by woon●ed exercise. The Old romans accustomed to begin their day continually at midnight, to the intent that in the morning, at the first show, or appearing of the Sun, each man in his vocation might follow his affairs: and farther they also thought, that even then the one half of the day was paste without any profit, or good at all done. A certain Roman on a time persuaded with the Senate, that they should not in any wise destroy or sack Carthage, to the end, that being possessed thereof, they might not live in continual quiet, and idle security. To this purpose Scipio Nasica said: 
S. Nasica.  considering that some assured then, the present state of Rome, for that Carthage was then tributory, and Greece subdued, nay rather said he, we now live in danger and hazard, for that we at this time, dread or fear no enemy. By which his answer, he this much inferred that surceasinge now from Arms, and bathed in delices, this their security more hazarded their estate, than the wars, or any other their Neighbours, enemies to the Empire. And again, Fear (saith he) more assuredly warrenteth the estate of Rome, then careless to live, as though no man durst to touch us. Unto the which words or advice of Scipio, the French Proverb answereth of part, not unaptly. Better is it to lose, then to cease or be idle. Apuleus highly commended the 
Apulcus.  Masters of Defence, or swoordeplayers of his time, who in such sort detested all kind of Loiterers, that the Masters in that Science, never would permit their Scholars to eat, before they had fully accomplished and ended some commendable exploit, & laudable practice. Cicero to this purpose remembereth these words: Man is borne to be busied i●… virtuous exercises, whereof (saith be) our Soul or Mind is a sufficient argument, which no where, or at no time, arresteth her idly. among all other decrees, of the renowned Draco, Lawegever to the 
Draco.  Athenians, none was more worthy of commendation than this, that he punished with death, all those that any where, were found unbusied, or that walked up and down idly for their pastime and pleasure. How the Gentiles were affected towards all those, that persevered in any virtuous actions, is evident, for that to this purpose especially and above all others, they had in Adoration three Idols, or Goddesses: the first height Strenua, which is to say, Dexterity: the second Agenoria, 
Three Idols of the Gentiles.  which signifieth, Virility: the third Stimula, which soundeth as much as a Spur of honour or Virtue: in such sort reverenced they incessant travail, that they erected these three Idols in the name of them, to be reverenced for ever. But we will not arrest ourselves on the opinion of the Gentiles, but will descend to the authority of the Scriptures, which no less bindeth us to the above remembered, than it chargeth us to abstain from things that be profaned. Solomon in his proverbs, among many other places where he sharply argueth idleness, in one, to this end, uttereth these words: He that in Winter ceaseth from labour, shall receive for his portion, indigent beggary. S. Paul, a Doctor among the Gentiles, never joyed so much for any thing, as for that he at no time was found a Trevante, or Loiterer, extolling above all things, painful Labour. In this sort writeth he to the Thessalonians, admonishing them in all things to imitate him, for never was he found idle among them, ne at any time did he eat, not having first deserved it: he toiled day, and night, not to annoy, but by all means to profit them. And again, Who so laboureth not, neither must he eat, as is commanded. To the Corinthians in manner semblable, he writeth, remembering them, for their better instruction, of his restless pain, and incessant Travail, which the same he also doth in many other places. Employ we then hereafter, our time in virtuous exercises, avoiding, to the uttermost of our power, the contrary: whence never issueth any thing that is commendable. Neither give we this our commandment with such extreme vigour, as though we would have no time exempted to eat, drink, sleep, & honestly repose us: for these things are necessary, as also moderate recreation at times is likewise commendable. For this cause Cicero so much extolleth Scipio, in that he said, that he never was less idle, then when in deed he was idle. And further addeth Cicero, that this saying of his was most assuredly and doubtless notable, for that thereby he gave others to understand, that when he idly, had arrested him from his studies, he then notwithstanding had in mind the whole course of his affairs, and that then, and at such times, of them, he earnestly, and with advice consulted with himself. Seneca the Moral Poet affirmeth, that 
Seneca.  Idleness without some practice of study, or good Letters, is to man a very perfect Grave or Sepulchre: and that those that study Wisdom, are they, that feel and enjoy the true Idleness. plutarch writeth, that the Wise man spendeth his time in the only exercise of virtue and Learning. Let Man then advise him how he spend his time, which passeth without stay, and is altogether uncertain, for that he must yield a strait account thereof, yea and of each word that shall pass him rashly. Cato, though he were a Panym, yet could 
Cato.  he thus much say, that all great and haughty personages were as well bound to yield an account of their time, without profit spent, as to receive just guerdon for that they well had employed. For conclusion, in such honest exercises, should we pass our few days, that we might reap the fruit thereof in the Kingdom of God, which is provided for those that are called into the vinyeard, to Labour it, where they shall receive the debt to them belonging. To this purpose such fitting words useth S. john: Blessed are those that die in the Lord, for that their Spirits repose them now in quiet from all Labour: but their Works, and their travails, such as they were, shall follow them. Which authority well proveth, that pain only and travail, is the ambergris of this world, which is bought, sold, and delivered into Heaven, as S. Paul himself not unfitly remembreth, whereas he saith, that each man shall receive his Salary or payment, according to that he hath travailed in this world.   

¶ How detestable a matter Cruelty is, with some examples serving to that purpose. Chap. 14.  
Among all other vices repugnant to man's Nature, which also yield men most abominable, & monstruous, Cruelty is assuredly the chief and principal: for as much as Man, a Creature most Honourable, framed to the Image and similitude of God, borne to use courtesy & compassion, by Cruelty is transformed into a brute beast, terrible, furious, of nature accursed, and enemy to God, who is the sole & sovereign Clemency. Aristotle saith, that Cruelty, fierceness & inhumanity, are vices incident to some savage & wild beast. Seneca in his second Book of Clemency, termeth it the execrable felony of the Soul, whence he concludeth it opposite and contrary to the virtue of compassion and humility. Cruelty is capital enemy of justice, and of reason: and much worse is this vice than either pride or malice: for that wroth or malice, seemeth to proceed of some certain displeasure, as when we behold any one, that either annoyeth or wrongeth an other: but among such as in their Cruelty, outrage, we find many that even laughing, and without any suspicion of crime, only of pure malice and disdain, miserably do to die, & murder the innocent. So is it then a capital enemy to justice, which permitteth not any, faultless, to smart of undeserved pain: as it on the other side also chargeth with moderate, and measurable correction the faulty or culpable, without respect of person. Seneca in his Book of manners, saith: That commonly we term those, merciless tormentors, that in correction of vices hold no kind of measure: what title then to those men shall we justly attribute, that by strange devised means, soil them in Innocent and harmless blood? Examples of such Monsters we read infinite, among whom, we find Herode King of the jews, which reigned in the birth of our Saviour Christ. Who after the death of so many innocentes, thinking among them also to have slain him, who then was newly for man's redemption borne, would yet make more ample, and more full show of his tyranny, not only in the time of his wretched life, but also in the instant and moment of his death: so that himself perceiving his death to approach, caused to be assembled all the chief of Jerusalem: whom, as soon as they at his commandment appeared, he caused without stay to be safely imprisoned: giving charge to his Sister, that in the same point of time that he should make change of life, she also should do to die all the foresaid Elders, which to do, she failed, God working to the contrary. Which things he did (as himself somewhat before his death confessed) for that he knew the inhabitants of Jerusalem would rejoice of his change, and to the intent it otherwise might succeed to the people, than they at that time assuredly supposed, he of accursed and detestable pretence, to the intent they all in that day should mourn and lament, determined to cause to be done that horrible murder. The tyranny also of Abimelech, Son of Gedeon the Great, was no less strange and marvelous, for the intent he only might reign alone, he traitorously slew three score of his Brethrens, whose merciless hand none escaped but only jonathas, which by the only permission of God, fled, to the intent the 
jonathas.  Traitor might never live without suspicion, or fear of revenge. And yet here again is it doubtful to say, whether the treachery that he used towards the Sichimites, were more tolerable than this or not: on whom, for that they had chased him out of their City, into which afterwards reentering by force in the night, revenged himself by the universal slaughter of them all, for he committed to the sword all them that he there found, Man, Wooman, young and old, and certain such as for there safety ran into the Churches, he forthwith environed with great heaps of wood, which as soon as it had taken fire, the heat and smoke thereof was such, & so intolerable, that the prisoners that thought to have lived in assured Sanctuary, were scorched each one, and wasted there miserably to powder, this after he had then destroyed the whole Town, with plough he turned in despite the soil, covering it with Salt in steed of other grain. A. Regulus, by the people of Carthage, was in manner semblable entreated, who being 
A. Regulus.  there prisoner, upon his promiss of gainecome, was sent unto the romans, to conclude a peace, or at the lest to practise the permutation of Captives, but being returned, less answering their expectation (not by constraint, but for performance of his promiss) was shut up, into a great pipe or tun, thick set with sharp nails piercing on every side, so that he could on no side, either lean or arrest himself, in which sort they did him cruelly to die. All Tirannes' are ordinarily of nature cruel, but who so of them is bloody, is more execrable than the others. Phalaris King of Sicilia, a most wretched tyrant, who although he executed sundry without cause or reason, yet, in truth and justly to consider of him, he was in heart and affection then in deed more cruel. This manquayler had a Bull of Brass, which one Perillus had skilfully wrought him, in which 
A Bull of Brass.  when he had enclosed, whom he minded to torment, having under the said Bull a great and hot fire, the poor patient gave forth thence his sorrowful Notes, as though it had been the bellowing of an Ox: which he did to this intent only: that by the lamentable shrieks under a Bulls voice uttered, he might in no wise be moved to pity or compassion. One thing did he while he lived honestly, for the first that ever he tormented in this his Brassy Bull, was Perillus himself, the author thereof. Strange was the unnatural and unreverent Cruelty, practised by Tullia, daughter to Tarquin King of the romans, which to enjoy the Crown, caused her Father before his time to be murdered, which himself would have given her, had she never so little tarried: and that which is more again in her to be noted, her Father's body laid forth dead on the ground, she advanced herself in her coach, incontinently, paste forth over it, at all not appalled, & although the Horses that drew her, trembled at that sight, and would have chosen some other way to have past it, the Cocheman also that drove them, feeling some prick of conscience, would in like manner have chosen some other path, to the intent the King being dead, might not be so shamefully dismembered & bruised: but so much still pleased she in her cruel affection, that even that which the insensible beasts of pity would have refused, in despite she broke them of that their choice & will, forcing them to pass over the martyred body of her Father. The Scythians, a people in war very furious and valiant, are in sundry Histories taxed of Cruelty. But among other sorts, this one giveth full cause of marvel: They would kill great beasts, as Oxen, or Horses, in whose bellies they enclosed such as they meant to execute, whom they caused in such sort, & so fast to be bound, that they never could move, or by any means come thence: where continually they gave them (as nature asketh) some thing to eat, to the intents that they living thus, might rot, and corrupt with the stinking carrion of the beast, their Grave or Sepulchre: and to aggravate the matter, that they might be also consumed living, by the worms that of custom grow still in such loathsome, as were these, and putrefied carrions. We read again of Maximianus, Emperor of Rome, who also practised so horrible a Cruelty, as hardly might enter into the heart of man: He bound men living, to such as were dead, which he caused to be left straightly in this sort coupled, until the dead had infected, and empoisoned the living. The very semblable to this, recordeth Virgil of Maxentius. Again we find of the strange tyrannies practised by Alexander Fereas, who buried men quick, linked face to face, and grappled fast, as before, together. Others some he would apparel in the skin of a Wolf, or other Savage and Wild beast: whom, after he had in best manner so attired, caused to be carried out into the middle of some field, where he baited them with Mastyves, until they were miserably dismembered and eaten. I know not whether any man may hear to speak of the accursed bouchery practised by Astyages, King of the Medes, against Arpalus, one of his greatest States, and approved friend in 
Some others have Harpagus  necessity. This Astyages, by occasion of a Dream, which here to recoumpte should be long and tedious, gave to Arpalus in secret, commission, speedily to dispatch and murder a young Son of his: who moved with compassion, beholding the poor infant (which afterward had to name, Cyrus the Great) as also that he feared the Mother of the young Prince would in no wise accomplish that commandment of Astyages, but on the other side dissembling it, did his careful pain safely to foster him. Long after, the Tyrant advertised that his child yet then lived, without semblant of displeasure, called unto him, Arpalus, whom in consideration of his clemency used towards the little Cyrus, privily did to be slain a young Son of his: calling the day following the Father to him to dinner, whom among other meats he fed with the body of his own child: of which Feast, the unhappy Father had no kind of misliking, as one that knew nothing whereof he had eaten. Astyages not yet content with this insupportable Tyranny, proceedeth yet further with an unheard cruelty: for in steed of the last servis, or Dishes of pleasance, he caused in large Chargers solemnly to be served in, the head, feet, and hands of the young Martyred child, unto the good Father, to the only intent he should not be unwéetinge that he then had banqueted, and eaten of his own Son. Marius and Silla, two capital enemies, on both sides so raged in execrable Tyranny, that they contended, as appeareth, who might surmount and surpass the other in villainy. Silla bouchered in one day four Legions of Soldiers. The Prenestines also, a people of italy, craving with tears his favour and grace, for that they had received the captain Marius, could notwithstanding by no means escape his cruel hand. For generally without excertion he murdered them all, and gave their bodies for a pray to the Crows, and Ravens to feed on. The semblable did also Marius his Companion in bouchery. The Emperor Tiberius, Successor to Octavian, surpassed, I trow, all others in his time: who after his faint clemency in the entrance of his Reign, passed no day, in which he spilled not the blood of some Innocentes. Besides, he devised such a merciless policy, as tofore had never been in any place heard of: he inhibited, that under pain of death, none should be so hardy, to deplore, lament, or make any show of mournful semblant at the death of those, that it should please him any way, for any cause to execute. A Cruelty strange, and such as hath not been known: for I deem there can be no greater pain, then to inhibit the poor heart, that it unload and discharge not itself of his dolours, by alarms & tears. Also when he did to die any young maidens, he first committed them to his Tormentors to be deflowered of them, to the intent that with their death, they together should loose their honour, and Chastity. He so much was pleased in spilling of blood, that understanding one had stain himself, whom he before had Sentenced to death, of purpose to escape his merciless, and cruel hand, sighed with haughty voice in lamentable manner, saying: O how unhappily hath this Crows escaped me (by which name it pleased him to note the Condemned). For you must understand, that he in such sort tormented the poor patient, before he would suffer him by any means to die: that they supposed present death to be to them both a gain, and a grace. Strange were it to writ, what inventions he used, & new torments in Execution. Sommetime he forced the Condemned excessively to drink, and immediately would 'cause the Cundittes of their Urine so straightly to be bound, that they by no means possible might ease themselves that way: and so would he suffer them, in excessive pain to languish, till death should take order, for change of their life. And further, for his sale and only pleasure, he caused other some to be thrown into the Sea, from an exceeding high Cliff, or Rockys bank in the isle of Capraire, adjoining unto Naples: and for because that after that sort to die in the Sea, was, as he thought, a death too gentle, he caused certain Mariners, and others, with Pikes and sharp weapons in Boats to stand directly underneath the said Rock, which received, and bloudely martyred the miserable patientes, before they might enjoy the benefit of the Water. Now after the shameful death of this incarnate Devil, such in deed as himself had well deserved, Caius Caligula succeeded in the Empire: who either was equal, or rather surpassed his Predecessors in all kind of monstruous, & accursed tyrannies. He on a time, with great affection wished, that all the Inhabitants of Rome had together but one head, to the intent that at one blow he might strike it of. He strangely complained of the infelicity of his time, for that there chanced not, during his Reign, any Famine, Plague, General Inundations, Subversions, and Divastations of Countries, with many such other dreadful, and miserable calamities. Of a certain man he demanded, banished by Tiberius, how he lived, or what he did during his Exile: who in perfect flattery answered, that he incessantly had prayed to God, to call hence Tiberius, to the end that he might succeed him without stay in the Empire. Which thing considered of by this monstruous Traitor, and doubting least so many thousands which he had exiled, should in like manner pray to God for his death, sent forthwith into all parts to call them home again: whom immediately after their speedy return, he commanded to be executed without respect of any. He straightly charged all his Tormentors that they by little and little should torment the afflicted Innocentes, so that by small pains they might begin to die, protracting their death as long as was possible: for he would (he said) that they felt how their life failed in them. He also said, that others eftsoons, of his complexion said, The people wish me ill, for that they fear me. After this, Caligula succeeded Nero in execrable malice, not at all his inferior. For proof whereof, he practised such a merciless tyranny, as well in it comprised all other petty Treacheries. For without any regard to things holy or profane, to the Magistrate, what so ever he were, or private Subject, he caused the City of Rome to be set on fire, inhibiting all men under pain of death, by any means what so ever, to quench or assuage it: never would he that any man should save any part of his goods. So continued this fire, wasting and consuming the City, seven days fully & seven nights, to the end himself out of a high Tower, not far of, beholding it, rejoicing at this dolorous, and mournful spectacle. He with villainous hand murdered his own proper Mother. He also did to die the Husbands of Octaviana, and Sabina, both 
Octaniana, and Sabina.  which he married, but soon after beraughte them in manner semblable of their lives. Assuredly this was he, that beyond all others raged most in cruelty: for he was the first that persecuted the Christians, and in his time was the first, & greatest Persecution of the Church. He made open she we of his surpassing cruelty, of his unmeasurable, and furious brutality: for hearing on a time a Greek verse, in effect thus much signifying:  

Would God the Heaven and Earth,  
the Sea, and what so is:  
After my death might cease and end,  
as eke all hope of bliss.   
But I far otherwise would, that it chanced by my life time (said he). I could well be contented to take mine examples from barbarous Princes, not touching any more the Emperors of Rome, but the Successors again of the above remembered, in life and manners so outrageous and execrable, force me to devil still among them, ripping and unfoldinge their tragical insolency of Domitianus, Vitellius, Commodus, Maximianus, and others their semblables, I speak at all nothing. But of Diocletian (whose manners so unsavoury, and bestial fury, Eusebius in his Ecclesiastical Histories reciteth) Sommething must I speak, before I pass him utterly, to the intent that all blasphemers, and feeble Christians of our time, may see what they suffered in the Primitive Church, for that they never left to acknowledge their Lord and Saviour Christ. This wretch trained many at the tails of Horses through the streets, whom, after he had in most despiteful manner broken and bruised, ordained that they immediately should be brought back again to prison, where he lodged them not able to move, on pricking shears, and sharp pieces of earthen pots broken, to the end that lying on so restless a couch, their pain might be double to the other above remembered. sometimes by Engines, and policies he caused to be bowed down, the arms and branches of great and high trees, to which he would bind the legs of the Condemned, and then suddenly letting again the branches to slip, tent them most lamentably in pieces, and quarters. In the City of Alexandria he caused to be cut of, the ears, the noses, the lips, the hands, and the toes of infinite innocent, and harmless Subjects, only leaving to them their e●es, the longer to live and devil in that pain. He made to be sharpened many splinters of wood, which, as far as was possible, he caused to be thrust in betwixt the nails and the flesh. Into boiling Tin or Lead, other some he did alive to be thrown: & women fast bound to Scaffolds or forms, he commanded to be scorched with hot irons on the back. So that by these means, spilling still innocent blood, without any feeling what he thereby did, sent unto Heaven great numbers of Souls, holy, pleasing, and acceptable to God: which often times useth the merciless Tyrant for an instrument, whereby he glorifieth the just, and chosen. These strange Cruelties, and news devised torments, are written in approved and faithful Authors: of which, the greatest part we have taken out of the Scriptures: the rest are read in josephus, in his Antiquities, and War judaical, in Suetonius Tranquillus, Plutarch, T. Livius, justinus, Valerius Maximus, Eusebius, P. Orosus, julius Capitolinus, with others of no less credit, and authority.   

¶ How for the most part, cruel Kings, and Bloody tyrants are the Ministers of God: and how notwithstanding they continually end in state most wretched, and extreme misery. Chap. 15.  
WHho so hath, or liveth subject under any of these accursed Monsters, must for his consolation or comfort consider, that for the most part though they be terrible and cruel, yet be they notwithstanding the Ministers of God. The Scriptures in many places, as we find still, termeth them by no worse title, than the servants of God, for that by them, it hath pleased him to chastise the wicked, perfecting and confirming to himself, such as love and fear him. The Hebrews were long time governed by judges and Priests, among whom, when Samuel waxed feeble and old, the malice of the people, and contempt of God each where growing, Kings then from God, at their request were given them, which chastisement (for greater than that might never any have chanced them) they received as having before both deserved and desired it: Samuel therefore was given them for King, who in the beginning was meek and merciful, but shortly after become tyrannous and cruel, spoiling them of whatsoever they had, without respect in their possession, as also of their desired freedom and liberty. Who although he were void of no kind of vice, yet in Holy write is he called the anointed of God, by mean whereof the people were amazed and trembled. But leave we here him, as also all others, which both knew the Law, and lived under it: and turn we our pen, to writ of Idolaters, which also are called the Ministers of God in the Scriptures, for this saith our Saviour by the mouth of Esaie: I will, that my Captains enter at the gates of Babylon, I have commanded my Holy ones, and have called together my men valiant, and disposed in my wroth, to the intent they glorify themselves together in my Glory. The Prophet spoke these words, of the two Kings, Cyrus and Darius. Behold then how he calleth the Medes, & the Persians sanctified, which notwithstanding neither were, either just or sanctified, but only executors of Gods just will, for the punishment of Babylon. And in an other place by the Prophet Ezechiel: I will bring forth my Servant Nabuchodonosor, and because he hath well served me nigh unto tire, Egypt will I also give him in possession. Yet was he not the Servant of God, for as much as he neither served him, knew him, or any way believed in him: only he executed his justice on the rebellious, and in this respect was called his Servant. The accursed Totila King of the Goths, was named the Scourge of God, and reputed for the same. The great Tamburlayne, that reigned not so many years hence, a captain no less bloody than valiant, which also subdued so many Countries, and Provinces: being demanded, why he so more than tyrannously used his Captives, whereunto he answered: forewrapped in collar. Supposest thou me to be any other, than the ire of God? whence we have in fine to conclude, that all such cruel and incarnate Devils, are instruments wherewith God chastiseth sin, as also, with the same approveth, and trieth the just: and yet they notwithstanding are not hence held for just, ne shall they escape the heavy judgement of God. For necessary is it, that example of ill happen, but woe be unto him, by whom it happeneth. Further in this life, God assuredly at sometime doth punish them, besides that in an other world, Hell & damnation is certainly allotted them. Neither at any time hath it almost been seen, as we have remembered in the forepast Chapter, but that such Merciless, and Transubstantiate Monsters, have died of some violent, and ignominious death. Phalaris was miserably consumed in the same Bull, in which he had tormented many an innocent, roaring the same Notes, which he to hear of others, had to fore, so great liking. plutarch recordeth, that Silla was filthily devoured of lice, & that he never could find any plaster for that pain: And Pline farther saith, that he died in such sort tormented, that with extreme and miserable anguish, he gnewe, tear, and with his teeth horribly dismembered his own loathsome body and deformed carrion. Marius also his Capital enemy a perfect pattern of bestial feritie, fell in the end into such extreme misery, that flying and seeking a place to hide him in, was glad to say his Head in the hands of Poncius Teselinus, to the intent that he should strike it of. The Emperor Tiberius was stifled betwixt two pillows, or bolsters, and so ended in the hands of his own Servants: How be it Suetonius saith that he was empoisoned. Caligula that infernal fury, after he had received thirty great wounds, by Chereus, as well, and Cornelius Sabinus, as also by the others of that conjuration, made change of life, to the contentation of many. Cruel Nero before he died, was deprived of his Honour and Empire, judged and pronounced an enemy Capital to Rome, and hiding himself in an infectious sink of man's ordure, would there have slain himself, but his forces failed him, in the execution of that so meritorious a deed, whence he used in that exploit the healpinge hand of an other, & so in wresting and mowing with his evil favoured mouth, gave forth his Spirit to the whole Senate of Devils. Diocletian in manner semblable deprived of the Empire, died of poison, by his own hands ministered. Domician, being by Stephanus, Saturnus, Maximus & others, in seven sundry places deeply wounded, departed hence to Nero, to reign with him for ever. Tullia, of whom we have something above remembered, banished from Rome, died no less a beggar, than a wretch most miserable. Astyages, grandfather to Cyrus, whom, he commanded Arpalus privily to murder, (to whom for that he had not executed his commandment, he gave to be eaten in banquet his own Son) was deposed by God's just judgement, by the very same Cyrus. Herode also, with others infinite, whom all to remember here, would be long and tedious, died a death to the other's not dissemblable. Let those therefore, that rule and govern the world, in any wise leave to be bloody & cruel, leaning on the staff of compassion and clemency, to the intent they may live assured of the hearts of their vassaules: for the best assurance of his state that the Prince may have, is to be beloved of his people and Subjects.   

¶ Of a strange case, which at two diverse times chanced, after one and the same sort, unto two Roman Knights of Honourable Families. Chap. 16.  
THe chief and principal that conspired the death of julius Caesar, (as plutarch at large with others recordeth) were Brutus and Cassius, which both with all their adherentes were after exiled, declared for open enemies to the romans, by Octavian, Lepidus, & Marcus Antonius, who commanded as they pleased throughout the whole City. Of the faction of Brutus and Cassius, was Marcus Varro, one among all the others of most fame & honour, who being in the field with the other coniurates, were discomfited by Octavian and Marcus Antonius, who the better to save, if he might his life, and to be reputed for none other than a common Soldier, changed forthwith & incontinently his apparel, thrusting himself into the heap or company of Captives, and so without more ado was sold for vile price among the others, unto a certain Roman who height Barbulas: who within very few days, perceiving well his honest demeanour & dealing, supposed him to be (as truth was) a Roman, although in very deed he knew him not for such a one. On a time therefore, he with drew him apart, earnestly entreatings him, to learn him what he was, promising that if he would disclose unto him what he height, & of what House or Family, he would assuredly purchase him grace, with M. Antonius, and Octavian: but M. Varro would for nothing utter himself, so that in fine Barbulas, far otherwise then he first deemed, concluded with himself that he was no Roman. Within few days, now Octavian, and M. Antonius returned them to Rome, as also Barbulas with his late bought Servant, who perchance notwithstanding was better Gentleman than his Master. It chanced him there shortly after his arrival (waiting at the Senate door, Barbulas his Lord about his affairs within) to be known of a certain Roman, who incontinently advertised Barbulas thereof, which without any semblant that he knew any thing, or without any word paste thereof unto him, wrought so with Octavian, which then ruled in Rome, that he easily obtained him grace and pardon, by mean whereof forthwith, he frankly enfranchised him, and brought him to Octavian, who courteously received him, & from that time forth held him in the number of his friends. After this now Octavian, and M. Antonius fell out, in such sort that Barbulas leaned to Antonius, whom Octavian in field overran and discomfited. Barbulas then dreading the wroth of Octavian, used for his safety, the above remembered policy practised by Varro, that is to weet, he did on him the coat of a poor Soldier. M. Varro, then for that he long before had not seen him, as also for that he had changed his apparel, among other Captives unknowen, bought him for a bondman. But after short time, remembering him again, he so practised with Octavian, that he obtained him pardon, doing him to be free, possessed of wonted liberty. So that each of them, repaying the duty of courtesy to other, leave us example sufficient of the less staid assurance of great states in this life: with admonition to all, of what degree they so be, that they never leave to fear the fall, not not then, when they highest shall sit in Fortune's Chair, as also on the other side, never to despair when the same Fortune shall say them under her angry, and disdainful foot.   

¶ Of the distinction of the Age of Man, according to the opinion of most Astrologians. Chap. 17.  
BY the common division of Astrologians, as well Arabies, Caldees, greeks, and Latins: as also by the particular opinion of Proclus, Ptolemy, and Al. Rasellus, the life of Man is divided in seven Ages, over every one of which ruleth and governeth one of the seven Planets. The first therefore is called Infancy, which continueth the space of four years only, during which time the Moon hath principal mastery on Man, for that the qualities of this Age fitly answer to the influence of that Planete, for our bodies then are moist, delicate, tender, feeble, and flexible, rightly agreeing with the qualities of the Moon. For in this time, for small cause man easily is altered, with none, or very little toil, he waxeth straight weary, his body groweth and increaseth, almost sensibly to be perceived. And this generally now chanceth to all of this Age principally, and chief by the influence of the Moon, yet notwithstanding, not equally, but more to somme, then unto some others, for as much as some other dissidente qualities, by the influence of the Heavens, and aspect of the Planets in man's Nativity, or time of Birth, cause some secret, and privy alteration in all men, as they favourably or with less favour behold each the other.  
The second Age continueth fully ten years, and endeth in the fourteenth of our life: which Age the Latins call Pueritia, the end of Infancy, and beginning of Adolescency. In this part chief ruleth an other Planete, Mercury, whose place of arrest is in the second Sphere. He easily altereth and changeth his countenance: for in aspect with the good, he also is good, as with the naughty he turneth and becometh naught. During this Age, nature composeth herself to the qualities of this Planete: for now young children make their first show of their inclination and wit, be it either in reading, writing, singing, or the like: they are also then very tractable and docill, in their devices notwithstanding, light, unstaid, inconstant, and unstable.  
The third Age containeth eight years, and of ancient writers, is called Adolescency, and beginneth at the end of the fourteenth year of our Age, and continueth until the last day of the two and twenty: during which time, ruleth principally the third Planete Venus. For than Man beginneth first to be prove unto Venery, apt, and able in the act of generation, busied in Love, and pleasing in the company of Woomen, given to Play, Pleasure, Music and Banquets, with such other wanton and unprofitable trifles. And thus liveth he, for the most part of Nature bent to this folly: yet notwithstanding Man hath continually without left or impeachment, his free choice, no necessity binding him to this or that inconvenience, of sufficient puissance to follow, or to withstand these inclinations, for that no force of Planets, or influence of Stars, bindeth Man against his will to any necessity, although it incline the appetite sensitive, as also other parts or members of the body, in such sort that man in cases, hath either liking or disliking, free notwithstanding from inevitable necessity.  
The Fourth Age continueth, till Man have fully forty and two years, which Age men commonly term, and call Youth, it abideth with him twenty years to the end. Of this Age the Sun is chief Lord and Governor, and possesseth as his Kingdom, the middle or fourth Sphere, called of ancient Astrologians, the fountain of all Light, the eye of the Earth, King of the Planets, and heart of the World. This Age is the most perfectest, and most excellent of the others, it is the beauty and flower of man's life. During this Age, the forces and powers, both of the understanding, and body, acquire, and retain their virtue, and vigour. Man therefore in this time, well advised and hardy, becometh skilful to know and choose, that is good for him, he seeketh and searcheth Honour and riches, he laboureth to be accounted great and renowned, he busieth himself in laudable and virtuous Actions: Brief, generally in all things, he evidently declareth that the Sun over him, hath rule and dominion.  
The fift Age in Latin, is called Aetas virilis, and hath fiftiene years for his continuance, subject unto Mars, who of himself is evil and dangerous, fierce & hot, inclining men to Avarice, he causeth diseases, and increaseth collar in more than just quantity. In this Age man liveth temperate in diette, constant and firm in all his deeds, words, and covenants.  
Then join twelve to fifty six, and there arriseth sixty and eight, which fully shall term, and end this our sixth Age, in Latin called not unproperly Senectus, of which Age is jupiter the very Lord and Master, a Planete very Noble, and significatour of Equity, Religion, Piety, Temperance, and Chastity: provoking men to leave all toil and travail, seeking a quiet life from sweat and pain. In this Age man followeth and pursueth Holy works, loving temperancy, virtue, & Charity, now seeketh he Honour by his honest demerits, accompanied continually with praise and commendation, now is he just, perfect and honest, fearing shame, obloquy, and dishonour.  
The Seventh and last, by order of these Ages continueth fully twenty years, ending at the end of eighty and eight, which very few in our Age, either reach or attain to. This Age, by the mean of Saturn, which ordereth it wholly (the most slow, and most high of all the other planets, which also environeth, and compasseth in all the others) is stooping, and decrepit. We in this Age are cold and dry, of complexion none other or better, then Melancholy, angry, weamishe, hard to please, and envious. By this mean we live alone and solitary: now also grow on us, pain, grief, sorrow, thought, sickness, unreaste, disdain, and anguish. This Age weakeneth our force, and harmeth our memory, it loadeth and chargeth us with perpetual annoy, with long sorrows, and languishing diseases: with deep thoughts, chief desiring to attempt close and hidden Secrets: and in fine we desire principally to be Masters and Governors. And if any among us pass now this last Age (which assuredly happeneth very seldom in these days) the same then returneth to the state, in manner of Infancy, and ones again shall have the Moon for his Lady and Mistress, which ordered, as is above said, the whole matter in the four first years: by reason whereof, these Ancient and white headed Fathers show themselves none other, then little Babes or Suclinges, wholly resembling their conditions and qualities. I have said in the beginning, that this division of Ages, was left us of the Old, and Learned Astrologians: each man notwithstanding may divide them as it pleaseth him. Return we therefore now to these partitions also, which we find given us of renowned Philosophers, Physicians, and poets, which were among themselves of divers and different opinions. And for that in this discourse, we find many things liking us, something will we touch, to please therewith the Reader. The great and Learned Philosopher Pythagoras, how long so ever the Life of man seem, left thereof to us but four parts only, which he compared to the four parts of the year. Infancy (he said) resembled the Spring, in which all things began to bud and flower, to grow, to wax great, and to come to perfection. The youthful Age of man, be compared to the Summer, for the heat, force, and valiant courage that man hath in that Age. The Age Virill, or Man's state, he compared to Autumn, for in that time having experience of the world, he becometh ripe, and sound of advice & counsel, with assured knowledge in all kind of differentes. Old Age resembleth perfectly Winter, a time sad and envious, and such as reapeth no kind of fruit or commodity, only enjoying that, that we receive at other times. M. Varro, a Roman, for his Virtue and Learning, famous in his time: he parted the Life of Man into five sundry & equal parts, attributing to each one, the whole & full space of fiftiene years: in such sort, that he called the first fiftiene, puerility: the second, Adolescency: to weet, the time of growing, for that man than springeth up to his full, and stayed stature. The third Age reacheth to the five and forty year, which not unaptly may be termed Youth: in Latin, juventus, coming; or descending of the Verb Iwo, signifying a fit time to help or aid in: for in this Age man beareth Arms in the field: he serveth, and defendeth with force his Country, and then only is he most able in all exploits of manhood. From thence until the sixty year continueth the Age of perfect Man. For that in Latin these men are called, Seniores: that is to say, beginning to war old, in respect of the former Ages, for that in this time men first begin to decline, looking towards Old Age, which hasteneth him onwards, accomplishing the residue of Man's Life, these first three score years ended. This now then is Varro his division of Man's Life, as well collecteth, and reciteth Censorinus. The Philosopher Hiporas into seven: giving seven years to the First, and as many again to the second, which both together mount to fourtiene. The third from thence reacheth to the eight and twenty year. The two next Ages following have each again seven, which with the others by computation give forty and two. The sixth hath fourtiene, and endeth with fifty and six: and that remaineth, what so ever it be, he referreth it to the Seventh Age. Solon also, as the abovesaid Censorinus recordeth, divideth these Seven into Ten, justly sundering the third, the Sixth, and the Seventh in the middle: in such sort, that every of these ten parts contain only seven years, and no more. These are the Distinctions of Ages then that we find among Philosophers: saving that Isidorus, as also some of the abovesaid, divide them only into Six. Of which unto the first he giveth seven years, & calleth that Age so, young and tender Infancy. The second, to this in time, equal puerility: from thence until the end of the eight and twenty year, he accounteth on the third Age, and calleth it Adolescencye, a time wherein we grow best, and reach to perfection. The fourth is from thence until the end of the forty year, which Age in Latin he calleth juventus. The fift, to which he giveth the full space of twenty years, which with the other's mount unto sixty. He noteth for the declininge Age, or if you rather will, the first entry into Old Age. The remanent of Man's life, he attributeth to stooping Age, which how much so ever it be, endeth only the last part. Horace, a most excellent, and most renowned Poet, divideth this whole matter but into four parts, as also did, as we read, Pythagoras: In Pueritiam, Iwentutem, Aetatem Virilem, & Senectutem: which he artificially describeth in Art Poetica, with all the conditions proper and incident to these Ages. And yet according to the rules of natural Philosophy, man's life is only to be parted in three parts: The first is that time, that he hath to grow in: The second while he arresteth and dwelleth at one stay: The last when he declineth, and beginneth to stoop forwards. For as saith Aristotle, what so is engendered, in the beginning augmenteth 
Lib. 3. De Anima.  and increaseth, and afterward stayeth for a time, arresting in his perfection, but in the end declineth and savoureth of diminution. So that hence to conclude, a tripartite division is not of the others all, least proper or fitting. Of this opinion also were the most part of the Arabian Physicians, although Auicenna, a man of rare learning, and of an excellent judgement, hath lotted out man's time by four distinct Ages. The first he calleth Adolescency, the full space of thirty years, for that, during that time man yet still is growing. To the second be giveth name, of a well stayed Age, or of an Age, wherein beauty in all men perfecteth: this part continueth until the five and forty year, in which we live seized of absolute perfection. next followeth the third, a secret diminution, and privy path unto old Age, which holdeth on fully the space of fiftiene years. Now order giveth us in his place the last, a weary, a feeble, and an unable Age, such as men term a Decrepit, or Caduke Age. Here must we notwithstanding note and consider, that although it pleased him to give us this his quadripartite division, yet no where forbiddeth he us to subdevide again the first part, which containeth, as we said, the space of thirty years, lottinge the said part into three distinct parts, or several Ages: by this means according him with those that before part (as is remembered) the whole course of ●…ans life, into six sundry portions. But here considering these variable opinions, I know not where, most safely to arrest myself, neither may any man give assured determination, as well for diversity of complexions, and dispositions of men, as also that we inhabit divers Lands and Countries, the consideration of our distte mattereth also somewhat, as whether we feed on meats savoury, of light and easy digestion, or of gross and less pleasant, hardly concocted: by means whereof and of the semblable, man either sooner or later altering, becometh at times different, old and decrepit. For this cause saith Galen, hardly may man limit any times 
Lib. 6. De Regimine sanitaus'.  unto Ages: which well considered, cause that these so dissonant and so sundry opinions, seem not all thing so strange, and so exiled from reason. Servius Tullius King of the Romans, who (as of him recordeth A. Gellius) was only still busied in bettering the state Public, as then especially, when he first distinguished five sundry or several estates among the Romans: of the life of man remembering but three parts only, naming the first puerility, the space of seventeen years: the second by his account reachte unto the six and forty year, in which Age he enrolled his Soldiers, as most able and fit then to all exploits of Chivalry: but who so longer lived, those called he wise, mature, & men of advised Counsel. This division, for that it is universal, is of no part contrary or repugnant to the others, including the less and particular members, making some show and certain semblant of the wonted divisions, which of custom ordinarily sunder and sejoine the green Age from the riper, and that again from old Age. This green Age I say, from the day of our birth, until the last of our youth, by some computation containeth forty five years, not much more or less, as by account appeareth. Virgil also useth the very same Epitheton, Viridisque juventus, which is to say, green youth: ripe and mature Age thence continueth until the sixty year, in which time who so liveth, Servius calleth them men of assured stay and advice: the residue of our life, is old and feeble Age. These three parts may again be well subdivided, to accord, and conform the forepast varieties, which seem to be so dissidente, and contrary in appearance.   

¶ Of certain years in man's life, which the Learned in times passed judged above the others to be marvelous dangerous, as also for what cause they esteemed it to be so. Chap. 18.  
THe ancient Philosophers and Astrologians, by diligent observation, have curiously noted certain years in man's life to be assuredly perilous, which in Latin they call Annos clymactericos, alluding unto the Greek word Clima, signifying as some will, the staff of a Ladder, or a degree in any thing. Whence they note that these years are in such sort, and manner limited, as are steers or steps, that answer by just proportion in any thing, very dangerous in the whole course and tract of man's life. For as they maintained for an approved verity, the seventh, the ninth, and the fouretienth day in all kind of sickness, and infirmities, to be then the rest continually more dangerous: in case semblable also easily perceived they, that this account also by force of the numbers, had in like sort place in these odd years, throughout the whole course also and time of our life. Pythagoras, Themistius, Boecius, and Auerrois, with others many, learn us, that the influences of naughty Planets, as if I would say of Saturn, which at several times ruleth, and in several Ages, causing great changes and alterations every seventh year, in such sort, that themselves felt the force thereof: as well remember Marsilius Ficinus, Censorinus, and A Gellius, supposing it to be a thing assuredly unpossible, to pass those years without great hazard or alteration of our life, estate, health, or complexion. So that by this occasion, the seventh year, the fourtiene, the one and twenty, the eight and twenty, the five and thirty, the two and forty, the niene and forty, and so forth by order every seventh year was above the others much to be feared. And farther for that they held the number of three to be of great importance or efficacy, they said that three times seven, which mount to twenty one, was a number above all the rest marvelously to be suspected. As much again is said of the niene and forty year, for that the number riseth of seven times seven: But the most dangerous year of all others, is the three and sixty: for as twenty one riseth of three times seven, so sixty three mount again of twenty one three times, or of niene times seven, or seven times niene: which numbers be famous, and as well known, so feared of the wise and learned. So that when they first entered the first day of the said year, they become (beyond the wonted manner) very diligent, circumspect and curious, to preserve their health and life, by all practised polices taught us, either by experience, nature, or Physic, attending from day to day some dangerous mutation, or sudden change of state, which in deed oftentimes happeneth, as well remembereth julius Firmicus in his books of Astrology. To this purpose A. Gellius maketh mention of a certain letter, sent by the Emperor Octavian, unto his Nephew Cassius, letting him to wete, what joy he then lived in, for that he had escaped the three and sixty year, and now was entered into the sixty four. In such sort that he then intended to celebrated his second Nativity. For these causes thenour Learned Predecessors marvelously feared this above rehearsed year, considering that it was the fatal term assigned by nature unto many: during which time, Aristotle with others renowned, and famous personages, died. And as I also above 
Aristotle.  remembered the number of niene to be perilous, so said they, that who so past the sixty and third year, should not at all escape the eighty and one year, for that, that year riseth of nine times niene. At this Age died the divine Plato, the great and Lcarned Geographer Erastothenes, 
Plato. Erastothenes. Zenocrates. Diogenes.  Zenocrates, a Platoniste, and Prince of the ancient Schools, Diogenes Cinicus, with others many, the only honour and beauty of their time. But these things more for experience sake, and for that it seemeth unto many a novelty, have I written, then that any man should hereon devil so much, that he should think it of necessity, and a thing inevitable, although it otherwise be not a matter impertinent, ne yet exiled from the lore of reason. For as we see that diseases, & complexions, leave, and end at times in men: and as in most kind of Creatures teeth grow, change & fall, the voice altereth into a sound more base or shrill, the grass also or Corn springeth at their terms appointed, besides infinite other assured effects & operations of nature, which observe their course & times without alteration or change: so why should we not in manner semblable believe, that these abovesaid terms of time, & clymactericall years should have their proper force in the alteration of man's fortune or state of his body. Why also think we not, that man's body is ordered as well by celestial influence, as by any predominant quality or humour, & that by some secret and hidden operation, though man be yet subject to the pleasure and will of God: who as he hath framed all things supernaturally and miraculously, yet will he notwithstanding that his works be natural, these only excepted, which by him were wrought contrary to the laws of Nature by secret mean, inscrutable proceedings and judgement.   
¶ Here endeth the first part of the Collection of Histories.   

❧ The second part of the Collection of Histories.  

¶ What danger it is to murmur against Princes, as also what commendation they gain by Clemency. Chap. 1.  
A Wonted saying it is, and found among the most ancient proverbs, Princes have hands broad, and long cares, hence none other thing at all inferring, but that Kings and great states, can a far of revenge themselves on these that offend them, as that they also understand what so of them is spoken in place covert or secret. For so many are there that seek to live in his grace and favour, that on the multitude hath rule and dominion, that nothing may be kept from him either unknown or hidden. Whence to all men is given by the Learned in counsel, that of the Prince we speak in secret nothing, for that in such case the Walls both hear and disclose again our Treasons: and plutarch, that the Birds carry these words in the Air. And farther if it be dangerous, to utter unto Princes a truth frankly and boldly, what shall we judge of them that mutter against them privily? The examples, that a man might to this purpose allege, are infinite: among which, both in the Greek and Latin Histories we read, that Antigonus one of the Captains and successors of Alexander the great, his Camp not marching, but arresting in open field, being on a night a bed in his Tent, heard certain of his Soldiers without, pass in traitorous talk against him, supposing not to have been understood of any, but he without any farther semblant of wroth, in change of voice, as if he had been some other, bespoke them this softly, without great brute or noise: when ye speak any such words of the King, see that ye go farther from his Tent, lest he hear you. another time the said Antigonus, marching with his Army in the dead of the night, paste through a place very fowl and miry, his Soldiers almost forweried and tired, by means whereof, they uttered some distoyall words against him, thinking that he had been far of and behind him, but he being present and understanding their treachery, not known from an other by means of the darkness, after having done his pain to help divers of them out of the mire, that had so liberally talked against him, said with voice as before well counterfeited, speak of the King hardly what so ever you please, for that he hath brought you into so watery a soil, but of me you have good cause to think and say well, for that by my help you are now past the danger. The patiency of Phyrrus King of the Epirotes, meriteth no less to be remembered of the posterity: who when he lay in Italy in Arms against the Romans, both he and his whole troop in the City of Taranta, he heard after supper certain of his young soldiers sitting at their table, to outrage against him, whom when he had caused to be brought before him: demanded, whether they had paste against him in such words, or not, to whom, one of them with countenance less altered, said: King what so ever thou haste charged us with, that all have we spoken: and farther be thou assured, that if the wine had not failed us, we had yet again spoken many worse than are these: letting him thereby, for their excuse to understand, that the wine in this sort had forced them to exile from duty and reason. At which his words, Phyrrus waxed not only angry, but rather on the contrary side, broke out into a great laughter, sending them back to their lodging without any annoy or hurt what so ever. The Emperor Tiberius, though otherwise a tyrant most cruel and execrable, hath left us also to this purpose somethings worthy memory: for perceiving on a time that one had composed an infamous Libel against him, and farther that the people with words disloyal, complained each where of his excessive cruelty, wherefore persuaded by some to do sharp animadversion and straight justice on them, said: that all Tongues aught to be free in a City: then straight again moved by some of his Council, to make diligent search and busy inquiry, to find out the Author of the foresaid Libel, which he also refused as afore, saying: that he was not yet so void of affairs, that he would trouble himself with so simple a matter. Great also was the Clemency of Denis tyrant of Sicilia, used towards an old woman of poor and mean condition: for being advertised, that she daily prayed for the continuance of his Health and Honour, sent for her to know the cause why she so much affected his assured state and maintenance, considering all other his Subjects desired his death generally, whereunto she answered: know right mighty Prince, that when I was a young Maid, there reigned in this Country a most fell and wicked tyrant, wherefore I prayed continually to the Gods for his sudden death & destruction, by mean whereof in short time my request was fully accomplished. But after him succeeded then an other, far yet more cruel, and more bloody than the first, for whose death, I never left on the Gods incessantly to call, till it had chanced to him, as to the other above said. After both these now comest thou, the worst of the three, a Monster in faith most malicious and loathsome: and yet because an other might follow most detestable of all, I never leave to pray for thy health and, preservation, wishing thee many years in health, to thy contentment. This bold, and hardy answer naught grieved at all this Tyrant, nor therefore disdeigned he her, that of custom disdeigned all others: but pardoned her to go without annoy or offence. When Plato, the Father, and Prince of all Philosophers had made his long abode with this foresaid Denis, in the end required his favour to pass home again into his Country: which obtained, the tyrant himself in conducting him of part out of Sicilia, demanded what he would report of him at Athens among the Philosophers. To whom Plato, without stay freely and boldly answered: these that live in Athens, are not so idle nor have they (know thou) to lose so much good time or leisure, that they once will inquire, either of thee, or of thy behaviour. Whence although in deed he well perceived, that for his naughty life he that had only spoken, yet patiently he took it, not malicinge the party. I remember again other two old women, which with like freedom bespoke their Kings or Princes, the one a Macedonian to the King Demetrius, Son of the above remembered Antigonus, the other a Roman to the Emperor Adrian, to whom both they framed both one, & the same answer: for each of them craving justice at the kings hands, received for answer, that they presently could not attend on them: then said they, if you may not understand of our complaint, give over then your Crowns to them that will do justice: which words the two Princes took both in better part, acquaintinge themselves with their cases, and did them forth with right. Phillippe King of Macedon, taking his leave of the Ambassadors of Athens, and offering them such courtesy as is usual in like cases, demanded in the end, whether they would that he should do any thing yet for them: to whom, one of them that had to name Democrates, knowing that he in heart hated the Athenians, less able to hide that which in heart he thought, said: we would that thou shouldest go and hang thyself, and besides that, nothing. At which answer, as well all his companions, as the others then there present, fearing the kings indignation, were not a little troubled: but the King, as was his wonted Clemency (or it may be dissembling) not altering to wroth in any other manner, turned him to the other Ambassadors, and said: you shall say to the Athenians from me, that he that can support these such opprobrious words, hath much more modesty than the sagest of Athens, which are so little wise, that they know not when nor where to hold their peace. Domaratus coming to see King Philip, on a time when he was freashly fallen out as well with his wife, as with the young Prince Alexander, of whom among other things the King at the first demanded, if all the Cities in Greece were in peace and well acquieted. But Domaratus that well knew, nothing was to him more liking; then to hear of perpetual discord among his Subjects: answered him right boldly, but reverently withal, as well become a subject. Assuredly King, for that you live disquieted still at home, you ask me what dissensions may be in these your Cities abroad: but if you were in peace with these your people here, it should stand more with your Honour, than thus to inquire of the adversities of others. Whereat the King found not himself at all aggrieved, & considering that for just cause he honestly had reproved him, immediately grew to a perfect atonement with the Queen, as well as with his Son and others. In what bold freedom and liberty of words, Diogenes bespoke that famous Prince Alexander, as also with what modesty, and how he accepted it, is evident in the first part, where something is said of the life of Diogenes. Farther if we affect examples of Christians, Pope Sixtus the fourth of the order of the orde of saint Frances, may serve in this place, as fitting to our purpose. To whom on a time elected, and chosen Pope, came one of his brethren, an old religious Friar, which, after salutations passed to and fro, on both sides, withdrew himself with the Bishop, into his secret rreasurie, where as he showed his poor brother great heaps of costly stones and jewels, and said: fratermi, now can I not say, as some time said S. Peter, gold or silver have I none. It is true quam the other, neither can you say to the impotent and diseased, as said he, rise up, and go, letting him there by privily to understand, that the Popes in these ages, were now more vowed to riches then unto virtue, or holiness: who perceiving, that he nothing strayed from reason, yielded there to, without contradiction, quietly. The semblable happened to an Archbishop of Colonne, who as he passed the country, with a huge troup of horse men, curiously all armed, according to the custom, and manner of Almaignie, found by hap a poor workman, toiling hardly for his living, which at the first sight of this prelate, broke out, into a great laughter, the cause of which demanded, the poor man for the with said: I laugh at the folly of that good priest saint Peter, prince, and master of all other prelate's, which lived, and died here in extreme poverty, to leave his successors, in such pomp, and jollity. But this Archbishop again the better to acquit him: fellow I ride thus as thou seest, for that I am a Duke, as well as also a bishop: where at he laughed again more heartily than before, and being demanded the second time, of that his vehement passion, answered right boldly, with a sure, and stayed countenance. I demand of thee, right honourable, that if the Duke of which thou speakest, were hence fallen into hell, where supposest thou this good Archbishop should find his quiet harbour. Where by he well inferred two contrary professions, agreed not well in one person, and that offending in the one, he could not acquit himself, by any gilful pretext or shadow of tother. At which this gentleman, then presently graveled, not having what to say, departed with shame to much, and passed forth on his way. To speak also of Gentiles, Artaxerxes king of Persia, understanding that a certain captain of his, which he at his cost, from his cradle, and infancy, had nourished, had muttered against him in manner, no less traitorous, than in truth disloyal, whom he would other way none punish, but sent to him by an other, that he might at his pleasure talk of his prince and master, for that he again of him might speak, and do the semblable. Philippe father of Alexander, advertised that Nicanor had abused him in words, was advised by certain his friends, by process (as the manner is) to call him to his trial: to whom he answered, that Nicanor was not the worst man in Macedon, and therefore first would know, whether he had need of any thing, for that he felt hymfelf bound in conscience to aid him: so finding him very poor, in steed of deserved correction, in presence of many gave him, a great, and rich present incontinently. This done the same that before had accused him, said, that Nicanor now spoke great good of his majesty, to whom the king said: now see I well Sinicus (for so height this foresaid accuser) that to be well or evil spoken of, it lieth only in mine own hands. This said prince, by his friends an other time was advised, to exile a certain subject of his, less circumspect in his talk, and intemperate of tongue, which to do he utterly refuced, and said, for as much as he hath spoken of me his pleasure here, I will not that he do the semblable, in other strange lands, and countries, letting others understand, that which he had done of magnanimity, and clemency, proceeded of sad advice, and assured counsel. In these and such like matters, this prince excelled all others of his time. He said he was much bound to the governors and princes of Athens, for that it pleased them injuriously to talk still as well of him, as also of the order and manner of his government: for by his daily industry and change in things, from better to beter, he proved them to be but slanderous liars. He never chastised any that outraged against him, only he would cut of th'occasion, that moved them. Which his usages, if they were of all men well observed, two notable commodities should thence be gathered: the first, th'amendment of our own lives, and manners, the second, the perpetual exile and banishment of all detractors, and slanderers. A rare virtue is it assuredly, for a man not to account of that evil, that he well knoweth to have been spoken behind him: but a great note of temperancy is it, not to wax or bilius, or angry, for the injury that is done us in our presence, and openly.   

Of what country Pilate was, and how he died, as also of a river so called, and of the property of the same, and finally, of a certain cave, or den in Dalmacia. Chap. 2.  
Pilot of all the judges that ever were, or shall be, the most detestable and accursed, was a French man borne, and of the City of Lions, how be it divers of the said country deny it, saying: that this name Poncius, descended 
Poncius Freneus.  out of a certain family in Italy, from Poncius Freneus, I mean, captain of the Samnites, which also did to slight, and vanqnished the romans. Which how so ever it was, this Pilot (either for the only respect of his parsonage, either in consideration of the family, whence he issued) aspired to most honourable estate among the romans, and being familiarly acquainted with Tiberius' successor unto Octavian, as of him record both josephus, and Eusebius, was sent by him, in the twelfth year of his Empire, as lieutenant general, to the city of Jerusalem, which titled there himself, proctor of the Empire. So governed Pilate then this holy city, as also all the Province of judea, called Palestina. He continued, in this office ten full years, in the seventh of which, which was the xviij of the emperors reign, as account Beda, and Euseblus, he gave sentence of death, against 
Beda in his book of time. Eusebius in his first book of time.  the saviour, and redeemer of mankind, our Lord and maker jesus Christ, both God and man, when came to pass these things, which the holy Evangelists remember us of, in his death and passion: whose resurrection was such, and so manifest in Jerusalem, although they laboured, what in them was to obscure it, that it was well perceived of Pilate (were he though a wretch, of all others most impious) that this resurrection, and other miracles wrought by Christ, were not by man done, but by God only. For which cause, as recordeth Paulus Orosius, Eusebius, and Tertulian in his Apologies, he advertised the Emperor at length of the matter: for it was the manner that the Consuls, and Proconsul's, should continually writ, to the Senate, at least, or to the Emperor, of all matters, whatsoever, with in the compass of their Province, or territory. These novelties then much troubled Tiberius, which without stay, communicated them to his Lords of the Senate, advising him with them, whether it were expedient, to honour, and adore, this Prophet for a GOD. Which he for this cause only did, for that without the authority of the Senate, he could admit no new God in Rome, beside, or beyond their superstitious Idols. But as the divinity needeth not, nor yet can confirm itself, by the sole, and only approbation of man, so God here in permitted, that the Senate should then do nothing. Yea, on the contrary rather (as sundry good writers have) they held them ill contented, for that Pilate had not to them hereof written also, as he then did to the Emperor. This notwithstanding Tiberius ordained by Proclamation, that no man should be so hardy, to touch or lay hand, on any professed christian. Now after this Pilate arrested him in Rome, confirmed by the devil, as his assured servant, did never any thing justly, in any his charge or office. Of which, accused before Caius Caligula, successor to Tiberius, as also to have profaned the temples, and churches, erecting unlawful Images and Idols, and farther that he had rob the common coffers, and threasories, with other great crimes, and intolerable treacheries, was banished in fine, and sent home again to Lions. Others say to Vienna, and that he was there borne, where his entertainment was such, and so much pleasing, that he incontinently murdered himself: which thing assuredly chanced him, by divine, & heavenly permission, to the intent he shamefully might die, by the hands of himself, the most vilest and unjust wretch in the whole world. These that hereof have written, are the above remembered authors, Beda in his book De temporibus, and in his Ecclesiastical history, on th'acts of the Apostles Eusebius reporteth that he thus slew himself, the eighth year after the death of the innocent lamb, jesus, judged to death, and delivered to the bloody jews, by him. Of whose death, and passion, this accursed devil, never sought by any means his remission, or pardon, but paste hence in despair, to Satan his patron: for the bounty of God is such, and so great, that though in deed he had sentenced his only son to death, yet if he had repented him of that his sinful crime, the very same whom he had condemned to the cross, had not withstanding yet granted him his portion in joy with Christ. Farther a lake there is, or river, which also men call Pilate, within the territories of Suevia, adjoining to Lucerna, in a certain plain, environed on all sides with high, and great mountains, from the highest of which (as some affirm for truth) he threw himself down, and was drowned in that water. The common opinion is, that every year once he maketh there show of himself, in the habit of a judge: but who so ever he be, man, or woman, that by hap then shall see him, dieth assuredly, or the year be fully expired. For proof whereof, I refer you to joachimus Vadianus, a man singularly learned, whose commentaries written on Pomponius Mela are extant: who also of this lake reporteth yet, an other thing, no less known for true, then very strange and marvelous. He saith that this water, is of this nature or property, that who so casteth into it, either a stone, clot of earth a piece of wood, or any other the semblable, this water forthwith so rageth, and rolleth with such violente, and tempestuous impetuosity, that it passeth his bands, drouneth and annoyeth the whole country about it: whence the inhabitants are often times indomaged, in their corn, fruits, trees, and cattle. And again that which most strange is, if these things be not thrown in willingly, and of pretenced purpose, but by hap, or fortune, as lest though one do slide in, it then neither altereth, nor rageth in any kind of manner. Further also saith this foresaid joachiamus, a Swiser borne, that there are laws, and constitutions, forbidding all men, under pain of death, to cast, or convey any thing, into the said lake: and that divers have been executed, for infringing this ordinance. Which whither it be natural, or miraculous, I durst not affirm, although waters have strange, & marvelous proprieties. For some of which it should not, be hard to yield good reason, but for others difficile, or rather I judge, impossible. The semblable unto this, reciteth Pliny, saying that there is in Dalmacia, a very deep dark dungeon, or den, into which if any throw, any stone, or weighty matter, there issueth thence immediately such a violente, or blustering air, or rather if I so might say, a whirling wind, that it turneth into a dangerous tempest, grieving, and annoiing all the inhabitants of that country. It may be, which I dare not to affirm, that the body of Pilate was thrown into that hole, and that the devil there, by divine permission, to his everlasting shame and ignomine, executeth these strange, and incredible effects.   

In what degrees, and at what age a man and woman should marry. Chap. 3.  
THe ancient Philosopher's moral, were of sundry opinions, touching th'age in which man, should marry himself to a woman, to the intent that the years of the one, might answer in proportion unto the others, Aristotle, grounding here on, so may it be, that women both naturally conceive, and bear children, even until the si●tieth year ended of their age, and that man is also able in his kind, until the seventieth explete, said that they orderly should marry at such time, as both parties might leave together, unprofitable, and unable in th'act of generation, in such sort that by the rule, or prescription of the Philosopher, man should have about twenty years more than his wife. Hesiodus an Xenophon, grant him yet some thing less, supposing it sufficient, that a man of thirty years, take a wife at fowertene. Lycurgus law giver to the Lacedemoniens, conformeth hymfelf to the opinion, and censure of Aristotle: for generally he forbade marriage unto all men, before they had past the seven and thirty year, but unto women the seventeenth only. This Lycurgns his law was approved of many, for that in her more perfect, and more ripe age, she more easily acquainteth herself, with the manners and behaviour of him, that is given her for husband. For as writeth Aristotle in his Economiques, the disparity of manners, and difference in conditions, let perfect love betwixt the parties coupled: & yet neither approve I this ordinance of Aristotle, which willeth that man should have twenty years more than woman (without offence, or prejudice be it meant, unto so worthy a parsonage) my reason is this, that man being fully sixty years old, although he yet then can do some thing, in the act of generation, most commonly if he live longer, in the residue of his life, he is charged with infinite, and daily increase of maladies, so that before his wife aspire to the age of forty, he to her shall be a great charge, and weary pain, in place of a friend, a patron, and a husband. Wherefore when there is less difference in their ages, they are in like manner mortified as it were at one time, their minds and intentes are also more conformable, then when there is so great inequality of years Neither do I here say that man, should not at all be elder, but rather that the space of eight, or ten years might suffice, so that the man at the age of twenty five, might choose to him a wife, at sixteen, or seventeen years, having some respect to the course, or order of man's life. Also let man take to wife, a woman young, a maid, of perfect, and good complexion, not old, no widow, framed to the manners, and humour of an other: for assuredly in their tender youth, they are flexible, and bending, to what so man would have them▪ obedient, and subject still to his will, and pleasure. To which purpose we may remember here, th'example of Timotheus, on the Flut, of all others, most excellent and cunning, which for honest stipend, imperted of his skill, to such as would learn of him. This Timotheus, before he would begin with any (whatsoever) his scholar, he usually demanded if that he could play any thing, for of those, that had some manner of beginning, he evermore received double wage or salerie: his reason was, for that his pain was also double, first to make them forget, and forego, their first corrupt, and disordered use in play, and then a fresh to instruct them, according to his skilful loare. Which observation of his, well serveth us for widows, which are all ready trained to the perverse appetite some time, and fond fantasy of others, and therefore hard to be drawn back, from the wonted, and strange devices, of their first friend, or husband. For which cause I prefer, the marriage of a maid, before that of a widow besides the singular affection, and assured remembrance, which commonly lieth rooted in the hearts of women, towards these, with whom they first of all were acquainted. Concerning the parentaige, or riches of the wife, a certain young man, a Greek borne, came on a time to Pitacus, one of the seven sages of Grece, requesting his advise, in his affairs of marriage. One offered me saith he, my choice of two young maids, the one throughout mine equal, in substance, and in birth, the other far surpasseth me in worship, and in goods, what shall I do here in, which shall I choose to wife? To whom Pitacus answered, seest thou yonder children, that practise themselves at wastreles, go offer thyself to play amongst them, and they shall give thee good counsel, which he did, and as he approached, and offered himself for one, they perceiving that both in force, and in stature of body, he passed them, refused his company, saying: that every man should betake him to his fellow, and equal. Whence he well, knew for wife, whom he should take in marriage. plutarch in his treatise, of th'instruction, or bringing up of children, willeth that man marry not his son, to a wife either more rich, or of better family than he, saying, that who so alieth himself, to his superiors, and betters, in place of friends and allies, he findeth none but masters. And farther if a rich woman, shall choose a husband poor, pride immediately possesseth her, and mistress must she be, and souring a lought continually with proud checks will she serve him. And farther, Menander saith, that who so being poor, and taketh to wife a woman rich, maketh a plain gift of himself to the woman, which he espouseth, and not she unto him. Lycurgus among the Lacedæmonians ordained a Law, that no man with his daughter, should give any kind of dowry, to th'intent they travailed, t'indowe themselves with virtue, for that cause and none other, to be desired in marriage. Although this law might seem now rigorous to some, yet assuredly was it both honourable, and necessary, for being once well observed in one, it likely also was, thai it should be in an other: as for example, if the father in marriage of his wife, was of no part inrichte, neither in goods, nor in money, he then the less to his daughter, was bound to impart with any thing. Whence it lieth evident, that who so at any time, entereth into the sacred laws of wedlock, should have if he well do, no consideration at all of riches. But what? much time should I loose, if I attempted to persuade here, for that all men are soiled in this loathsome abuse, wiveuing for none other cause, but for pelf only. Yet say I, notwithstanding, that when a rich man marrieth, he should not consider of the wealth, or substance of the wife, but of her assured virtue, and modesty, borrowing fit example of Alexander the great (who though he were so famous, that all the world spoke of him) took yet to wife Bersina, the daughter of Arbasus, not rich, or glittering, but virtuous only, and descended of noble parentage: and yet in these days, who so most hath, most busily hunteth, and hungereth this dross. Hence cometh this often misliking in marriage, for having withdrawn the money, that covereth, for the most part, all kind of vices, they incontinently lie open, more than manifest unto all men, which first we would not see blinded, with detestable avarice, or at lest seeing them would dissemble it, as guileful doublers. Neither here mislike I, that man in race like, or in like family, seek to him the best, or most fitting to his appetite: as on the other side, I think it both ignominious, and dishonourable, to match in base state, for the only love, and desire of money. It needeth not that I herein long devil, for the earth itself in this case, scholeth us sufficiently: bestow who so please, seed fine and delicate, in a rough soil, less pleasant, and unlaboured, and he shall reap there of fruit, little dainty, and unsavoury, yea, though it spring of a seed, as is afore said, very delicate: and on the other side, who so bestoweth his seed less savoury, in a soil fat, and fertile, that which he thence repeth shall be sweet, and delicate. Besides, if we do our careful pain, for the better provision, of a good breed, or race of horses, how much the more should we then be circumspect, concerning our children, our successors, and posterity? In my fantasy, that man maketh small account of himself, and evil satisfieth that obligation, where unto he is borne, if he leave not his child, of as honourable a lineage, as himself received, by dissent from his father, which is impossible, if he take wife, of worse estate, or meaner condition, than himself. Farther, if he account of honour, or have it in reputation, he thence heapeth to his children more ample possessions, and greater dignity, than himself at the first, received from his father. How great is man's debt then, and what should his care be, to leave his children of no embased race, but rather to better it, if it be possible, to the intent his posterity, find no cause to complain them of. Paulus Emilius recordeth, that Manestias an Athenian, son of Iphicrates, a most renowned, and famous captain, whose mother was of base, and vile condition, which notwithstanding Iphicrates had espoused, was demanded, whom he best loved his father, or his mother, who answered, his mother, where at they marveling, demanded again why: for that my father, said he, with small regard begat me, of part a Thracian, and son of á poor mother: but she on the other side, hath borne me, of part an Athenian, the son, and heir of an excellent captain. Concerning the beauty of women, leaving to speak of those, that counsel us to refuse, both the fair, & the foul, prefarring only those, whom mediocrity commendeth: my advise is, that man choose evermore the best, that he possible may find, the fairest I mean, and of clearest complexion, so that she be virtuous, as we before have said: otherwise, wish I, that he choose the hardest favoured, chaste with all, and honest, rather than the faireste, of lewd, and light demainure. My reason is, that we should always prefer the faireste, if for none other, yet for generation, and cause of the posterity only, to the intent our children, be such as we would wish, of most perfect, I mean, and amiable complexion. Virgil remembreth, that the goddess juno, desirous to gratify her beloved Eodus, promised to give him one of her faireste Nymphs, to the end she should bear him, children in beauty, resembling herself. We read again, that Archiadamus' king of the Athenians, was condemned in a pecunial pain, for that he had married a wife of small stature, his counsel hardly charging him, that he ment to leave the race royal, of little, thin, wretched, and impotent bodies, as if they were but half men. To conclude, therefore, what so is, in any place above remembered, mine advise is, that it be taken, as counsel, and no commandment, which you may execute at your pleasures, without danger, or difficulty, as also without all exception of persons. For Matrimony contracted, with the harder favoured, is as holy as that other, with the most faireste, as good with the poorest, as also with the rich, with the widow also, as with the maid, or virgin, for that every of them is lawful, virtuous, and honest, grounding on love, which in greatest differentes, and cases of inequality, worketh ever more a perfect conformity, and union.   

Of the cordial and hearty love, that should be in maerriage, with divers examples serving to that purpose. Chap. 4.  
THE mutual love, and affection, betwixt man and his wife, both is, and aught to be, for just cause commended, for that marriage of itself, is a thing so excellent, as well for respect of him, which first did institute it, God, with the place also, of that institution, Paradis, as also that thence proceedeth, th'only propagation, and continuance of mankind, with remedy sufficient against all sensual appetites, and concupiscency of the flesh. All other amities incident in man's life, with whom, or in what sort, so ever they happen, are loves improper, and affections less perfect▪ in respect of this so holy▪ and divine. This is that same, that joineth both body and soul together, this is that, that is confirmed, and sealed unto us, by a sacred miracle, neither is there any thing betwixt the married, in particularity proper, for that betwixt the honest couple, the body, and will is one, that which never happeneth in any other kind of amity, which for small cause oftentimes is dissolved and broken: and that also which worst is, the most assuredste of these affections, continueth but for a time, for gain, or advantage: for proof whereof, we rarely have heard of any, that without change, have still held on, and never broken until death. For so dainty, and obnoxious, to all changes is man's mind, that commonly we see new friends, to remove, and dispossess, for little cause, the old: but that love holdeth still, which is betwixt man, and his wife, neither may it be sundered by any adverse fortune, by infirmity, poverty, mishap, or change of beauty, only death hath power, to cut this knot in sunder. Some times it also liveth, and continueth after death, as we have seen in certain widows, of which we could remember infinite examples, amongst whom above all others, we may consider of the mutual love, or affection, betwixt our first parents Eve, and Adam, unto whom the fruit of life, under pain of death was prohibited. Adam notwithstanding, to gratify his wife, refused not to hazard himself by breach of that commandment. When Paulina the wife of the sage and learned Seneca of Cordova, understood that cruel Nero had done to death her husband, who by opening all his veins in a bath, gave up his spirit, would not only die, to accompany him by death, but also did choose to end her smart, by the said manner of torment, for more better accomplishment whereof, the did herself to be pricked, as did before her, Seneca. Whereof Nero, with speed advertised, and knowing that it proceeded of assured love only, caused her with great diligence, to be saved from the danger of death: for being even then on the point of passage, he caused her veins skilfully to be bound, carefully attending on her, that she to herself, did none other kind of violence: by means whereof, this chaste and virtuous matron, past the rest of her life in great pain, and misery, pay, & coulerlesse, in sign of loyal love, that she bear to her husband. In the life of the Emperors, we also read, that Lucius Vitellius, brother to the Emperor Vitellius, being on a night, in a perilous battle, his wife, which height Triata, by the great, and unspeakable force of love only, came thrusting in among the soldiers, to aid, and assist Vitellius, minding in that strait, to live, or die with him, where she than so did her painful endeavour, that she utterly forgot all feminine debility, with small account of her life, or safety, without her husband. Q. Curtius reciteth, that the king of Aira, vanquished by Alexander, spoiled, and deprived of a great part of his realm, patiently bore it, with a valiant, and manly courage, without any show of pain, or anguish, but when news was brought him, that his wife was dead, in token that he more loved her, than he did his kingdom, broke out into tears, and wept very bitterly. ovid, Juvenal, and Marcial with others, affirm that the wife of king Ad●…etus, chose willingly to die, to save her sick and diseased husband, for having received answer from th'oracle, that the king should live, if any of his dearest friends, would vouchsafe to die for him. Notwithstanding, for the little credit, that men commonly give to poets, I had hereof said no thing, had not saint Hierome himself recoumpted it. Pliny the younger, in a letter of his writeth, that a certain Fisher, being sick of an incurable disease, or malady, by means whereof, he daily endured such torments, and pains, as was almost impossible, for man to sustain, where at his wife moved with marvelous compassion, as she, that entirely, and heartily loved him, seeing no hope of health, or recovery, nor any where could find any kind of remedy, having sought it every where, to the uttermost of her power, persuaded with her husband, by death to make an end of these gripping pains saying: sith that to death at some other time, of necessity you ●…ste yield, prevent her coming, to end there by, this insupportable anguish. To which her advise, this poor wretch accorded: wherefore, passing forth both to the top of an high rock, this woman there bound herself very fast to her husband, whence casting themselves down, where dismembered together. Baptista Fulgosius the like history remembreth, of a poor labourer, or husband man of Naples, which walking with his wife, upon the sands, or sea coast, but she, for some her affairs, for slowing her pace, was immediately apprehended, by a small skiff of Moors, which thing her husband, when he once had perceived, began to screche, and torment himself lamentably, and in fine took the water, swimming after the boat, with most doleful tears, crying still on the Mariners, to take him also, sith they had his wife away with them, for prisoner, so was he in th'end, to them also received, not without less marvel of the Moors, than tears of his wife. Shortly after this, within few days landed, they both were presented unto the king of Thunnis, who understanding of all things, as they truly had happened, was moved to compassion, and granted them pardon. To witness of the good mind, that Artemisia bore to Mausolus, we only must not consider, of that famous Sepulchre, which she to him built, and called Mausoleum, which also this day, for the sumptuous, and curious work thereof, is accounted, not the least of the seven wounders of the world, but also of others, her honest deserts towards him. The singular affection also, of Tiberius Gracchus, towards his wife, is then the others, no less strange, or marvelous, whose history, though it be common, red in Valerius Maximus, yet in few to touch it, shall not be superfluous: he therefore, on a time finding, two Serpents in his bed chamber, strangely amazed at so lithesome a sight, demanded of the augurers, or soothsayers, what it might portend, to whom was answered, that of necessity he must kill one, but if the male, than himself should first die most assuredly before his wife, but if the female, then contrary wise, his wife before him: he than that better loved his wife, than himself, made perfect demonstration, of his loyal affection, for he rather did choose to die first himself, then to see his wife to die before him, and so in killing the male serpent, made change of life forthwith, as is above remembered, leaving his wife after him a widow, for some other. But here a man may for just cause doubt, whether she were more happy, that had such a husband, or more unhappy in deed, that so infortunately lost him. Hard were it to say, which of these two following, should be argument of greatest love: to weet, whether that woman, which willingly, would have done herself most painfully to die, only for the grief, conceived of her housebandes' death: on the other side or she, that continually so mourned, that by languishing pain, and tears, with sorrow to death consumed. Concerning the first, for that part, already some thing above is said: as touching the second, a notable example find we, of a famous gentlewoman, of julia to wete, the daughter of julius Caesar, wife also to that valiant, and renowned captain Pompey, to whom one presenting a certain rob of her husband's, all stained, & soiled, with the blood of one freashely wounded, supposing incontinently her husband, traitorously to have been murdered, before she could have time, there of more to understand, she suddenly so altered, with sorrow, and displeasure, that she become strait senseless, deprived of her feeling, delivered also (wherewith she then went quick) of an abortive, and so forthwith made change, of this uncertain life. By whose death, that general peace. which by her means only, was then continued, almost throughout the whole world, was changed into war, and bloody hostility, principally, and first, bet wixte Caesar, and Pompey. The chaste loyalty of Lucretia, was such towards her husband, so well known, and so notorious, that superfluous were it to speak of it, for unkindly abused by force of an unchaste lecherer, s●ue herself in the presence of divers worthy personages. The marvelous love also, of the wife of Fernandus Goncales, an Earl or Count, is no less in my judgement commendable, then was also her policy, by which she deceived the king, and well delivered the country: for she in stature, not much unlike to her husband, did on her his apparel, arresting still in prison, and he attired as woman, paste for the by her advice, fled thence, and escaped the angry wrath of the prince. Here might I longer devil, with infinite examples, which I leave to remember, not minding to be tedious, which although the laws of God forbid, that we do no murder, are notwithstanding, worthy of perpetual memory, especially being executed, of Panimes, and Gentiles, which had no kind of feeling in Godslawes, and ordinances.   

Of the strange customs observed by our elders in marriage. Chap. 5.  
Marriage is contracted by the sole and only consent of man, and woman: but to the end this consent may the better be authorized, it is farther requisite, that it be manifested by certain exterior signs, and words, for that GOD only knoweth, and searcheth man's heart. Whence it cometh, that men, in this case, have instituted sundry ceremonious, and solemn ordinances. Concerning these, this day in ure among the Christians, they are evident, and known sufficiently unto all men: Wherefore I will pain myself presently to speak, of certain ancient customs, practised as well in sundry barbarous countries, as also among the old romans themselves, especially in their Esponsalles and Marriages, of which (so may it be) the diversity may lend some contentment to the reader. The ancient romans as writeth Cicero married themselves in two sorts, lotting unto them two divers kinds of wives, according to the diversity of their matrimonial ceremonies. The one was more common, and called herself matron, the other more proper, and was named mother of the family. As touching the latter sort, it may easily be thought that they so married themselves, as do in manner all Christians in our days. For the husband would demand of his wife, whether she would be mother, and ruler of his family, and she answering yea, would in case semblable also ask him whether he ment to be father of her family again, to whom if he gave affirmative answer, than should they take each other by the hand immediately, in token of assured faith, and amity, and this contract was reputed for most perfect and excellent. By which means the wife so gained such place in the husbands house, as otherwise she should have had, had she been his own sister, for that she now came as by adoption, to be of the said line, and as true daughter to her father in law, came to the inheritance at that instant with her husband. This gathereth Boecius at large, writing on the second of the Topiques of Cicero. The other ceremony was much more common, and therefore they were not reputed for mothers of the family, though they otherwise were honoured by the name of matrons. Farther the romans had again this custom, that when they first brought the young wife to her husbands house, she arrested her with out at the door or gates, as one that might not enter before she were drawn in, there at by force, giving the world thereby to understand, that they by constraint, and not willingly came thither, where they should lose their maidenhoode, or virginity, and afterward when they would give the maid, to her husband she sat her down (such was the usage) in her mother's lap, whence the husband again drew her, the second time by force, the maid embracing her mother, as hard as she might possibly: which they chiefly did in memory of that, that some times the romans had in manner semblable taken, the Sabine maids out of the arms of their mothers, by means where of Rome came in short time to be well peopled. Yet again after these, before he might bed her, the maid presented at one time both fire and water unto him, which they did to signify as hath plutarch and Lactantius, by these two elements the secret of generation, for that they be the principal causes generative, in all kind of things natural. Others affirm for this cause, that the maid thereby should promise' sincerity in heart, and loyalty in behaviour, for the water naturally purgeth all ordure and immundicitie, and fire fineth and trieth all manner of metals, sundering and parting the purer from the gross. Farther they supposed all marriages infortunate contracted in the month of May, and that for certain fond vanities, and superstitious imaginations, without ground or reason, and therefore remembered of no man. Of these things we read more largely in ovid and plutarch. 
ovid. in fastis. Plaut. in problematis.  another custom was this, that when the wife first entered into her husbands house, the husband should utter with a haught voice these two words, Caia Cecilia, and she in manner semblable must answer him, Caio Cecilio, which they used, for that in the time of Tarqvinius Priscus King of the romans, there was a damsel in Rome chaste, discreet, sober, gentle and wise, adorned beside with all other virtues, rare in the feminine kind, which had to name Caia Cecilia, but before she came to Rome called her self Tanaquila: for 
Caia Cecilia. Tanaquila.  which cause the young man pronounced these words, to mind his wife to imitate the other. There was also carried usually before the maid, the first day that she came to devil in her husbands house, a Distaff charged with Flax, and a Spindle hanging at it, to the intent she might be mindful to leave by her labour. Hereof writeth Pliny, to whom I refer him that more 
Pliny lib. 8. Cap. 40.  herein desireth. Besides all these an other thing was yet practised by the romans, which was, when any espoused, or took to wife a Widow, the marriage was solemnized evermore in a holy day, but if a maid, than contrariwise continually on a work day. And this Macrobius and plutarch record at large, and again saith plutarch all such solemnisations finished on festival days, were of purpose only done in such times, to the intent that all the people then occupied in plays, and pleasures, might not understand of these second marriages of Widows: but maids contrariwise were married ordinarily on labouring days, to such effect that the whole world might witness of such matches. Macrobius also saith, that therefore unto maids on these days such solemnities were prohibited for that, as is above said, they used a certain ceremony to take the bride by force out from the mother's lap, which to do on the saboth, or holy day, was a thing unlawful. I leave here to speak of other ceremonial solemnities, ordinarily practised among the old ancient romans, some thing to speak now in this place of the babylonians, which in this sort following, gave in marriage their daughters. In one appointed day continually in the year, they ordered in public place all the young maidens marigeable in each City, where the fairest and most beautiful, were not married with any money, that their fathers, or other friends, should at that time bestow on them, but unto such, as would most largely and most frankly disburse for them, which order they healed in them that were next fair, without respect of degree, or lineage orderly descending from degree unto degree, until they also came to the less fair or hard favoured, which they also bestowed on those, that were contented to take least sums of money with them, which evermore was taken of that, which was given for the fairest, so that in fine the latter sort, was as well married as the first, without any kind of charge or cost to their parents, these only enriched, or domaged that pleased to take them. Marcus Antonius Sabellicus writeth, that the Venetians in old time used also this order: here must you notwithstanding, in this place consider, that all those that were of indifferent beauty, neither to be esteemed fair, or ill feutered, were neither bought, nor sold, but at even hand delivered. Long sigh in France, to the intent their daughters should never justly complain them, that they against their will or liking were married, they accustomed, when the father meant to marry his daughter, to make a solemn or dainty banquet, unto which the father would invite a great many of young men of semblable parentage, and degree unto himself, of which all placed there at table together, the father granteth free liberty of choice to his daughter, who to make show of him, that in that company best pleased her, presented unto him in presence of thothers, a basin of water to wash after his dinner. In a certain town of Africa called Leptina, the 
Leptina.  manner was, that the first day that the bride should come to her husebandes' house, before she came, she should send unto her mother in law, desiring her to lend her, as having need thereof, an earthen pot, which should refuse, with sharp words, to do her that little courtesy, to the intent only that from the first day, she might begin to acquaint herself with the importunities of her mother, and by this hard, and unkind refusal, learn to support what so after might follow. Among the Mesl●gites, they ordained that each man should have 
Messagites.  his wife, and yet every woman beside, was common to them all, and all their wives again in manner semblable were not denied to any man. Eusebius writeth, that the ancient Brytons, lived in like sort scarce different in any thing. The Arabians, those only I mean 
Britou. Arabians.  of Arabia foelix, had a law, or rather an usage, that the woman that married herself, should forthwith be as free, to all her husebandes' kinsmen, as to her huseband, whom she only had espoused: and as Strabo recoumpteth, when any of them went to use, or have her company, he should hang up at the door or gate a certain ring, to the intent that if any other in the mean time should come, he by the said Ring should know, that the place was possessed, and therefore was unlawful at that time to enter: and farther again they had this respect also, that who so hardened himself to seek thacquaintance of any woman, were he not of the said race or allied unto the others, he should forthwith be done to die for it, without longer let or stay. But it chanced on a time, a woman very fair, and of perfect complexion, was above the rest very buselie sought on, only by the allies, I mean of her husband, by mean whereof, and of such busy importunity, she fasteneth a Ring at her gate herself to the intent that who so among them at any time came thither, should suppose that there was some other with in with her, which her honest guile stood her in good stead certain days, the ring still hanging at the gate without, till on a time all the kinsmen of the husband meeting together, one among the rest determined to visit her, who finding the sign up, as though there had been some mau there, and rememebring that he had left them all before together, imagined that she had gotten some new and strange adulterer, wherefore he goeth, and immediately thereof advertised the others, which all together with the husband approaching, found her contrary to their expectation void of company and alone, which in their presence confessed the cause why she had done it. Which her intention considered of, and found grounded on virtue, eschewing the less chaste acquaintance of so great a number of rivals, and further desirous to live a more continent life, though contrary to the brutal usage, and manner of the country, having by their assent here in some reason, was rather well thought of, then of any part discommended.   

¶ Of the excellency of painting. Chapt. 6.  
THere hath been, both among the romans, and Greeks, most excellent men, in the skill of Painting. And although also in our age, there have been devers, singularly well practised, and learned in this art: yet suppose I then far to be inferiors, to these of the old time, and fore passed ages, considering what we read of their fined labours. As for example, of the two tables finished by Aristides, a painter of his time renowned, and famous, which as recordeth Pliny, were bought by julius Caesar, for no less price than four score talents, only to dedicated them to the goddess Venus. And assuredly though Caesar were a very rich prince, yet was this price excessive, and great, considering that the talon, as well by the account of Budeus, as also of some others, curious in this matter, counterpoyseth six hundred French crowns, now currant: so that Caesar, by this valuation, paid for these two tables 48000. Crowns of good and lawful money. It also is written by the said Pliny, that Attalus king of the less Asia, disbursed fully an hundred talentes, which value, by the first account. 60000. Crowns, for one only table painted by the above said Aristides. We may in this place then safely presume, that according to the increase, or decrease, of Prices, the excellency of these sciences grew also, or diminished. Brife in those days painting was so much honoured, that it was reputed in number of the liberal sciences. Plinie ●aieth that the Greeks in such sort accounted of it, that it was not lawful for any their servants to learn it: only the 
Noble men only admitted to painting  sons of great estates, and honourable personages were permitted to exercise theimselues, in this practice. So grew this skill then to be famous, and worthy, and not altogether assuredly without cause, for that who so therein affecteth to be excellent, of necessity must be learned in many other matters. Geometry to him is requisite to understand his perspectives: also he should be learned in the other arts and scieuces, with an absolute knowledge in infinite other things, the more perfectly to order and observe his proportions, with an assured consideration of the nature of all things, as shall be to the beauty of his work, decent and necessary, throughout to be skilled as a Poet in all things, for that painting is nothing else, but a dead or dumb post. Besides this, his lineaments, and proportions must be such, that the eye itself miss and fail therein, in judgement, as we read it some times happened to Zeuxis and Parrasus, both excellent painters, concerning the outward show, or appearance of their work. By 
Zeuxis and Parrasus.  mean whereof they accorded willingly together, that every of them should frame the finest piece he could, to th'intent that who so wonde then the price, by common judgement, should be reputed of the other, for most perfect and absolute. Zeuxis then presenteth a perfect piece, a table, in which he had with such skill, and so artificially depainted certain bounches, or clusters of Grapes to the quick, that certain Sparrows espying it, and supposing they had been grapes, arrested them to beak thereon, or prey, as is their usage, which thing appeared marvelous and strange in all men's judgement. Parrasus on the other side presented eke a table, on which, with such perfection he wrought had then a Curtain, that being brought to Zeuxis, to judge or to consider of, (now drowned almost in pride, for that he had the poor and senlis birds deceived) deemed it to be, that which in deed it was not, stretching forth his hand to have withdrawn the Curtain, as though some thing had been close hid, or wrought there under, said with loud voice that some man should take away the Curtain. But afterward perveiving that foully he had failed, gave sentence without more that Parrasus was his better, considering he had deceived him that was master of his science, which was in deed much more, then by some guileful show, to draw or to delude the poor and foolish birdde. another time this Zeuxis, in like table also depainted a young boy or child, having in his hands a dish well charged with Grapes, with so much art in deed, so well and finely fashioned, that the birddes again as before, came fleeing to beak thereon, whereat Zeuxis as all foreraged, grieving and misliking with that his own work said, if that with equal skill I had depainted also the boy, the birddes with fear would then have held them all a loof, neither would they have been so bold to approach so nigh the boy. Pliny which recordeth these things affirmeth, that Zeuxis was a man of great wealth in his time, for what soever he wrought, he never sold it, but for price excessive, reputing his devices to be of such excellency, that if he sold them not at his own pleasure, he rather would give them, then take but little for them, and farther would say that no money (if he should in deed esteem of his doings, according to their perfection) were able, in what quantity so ever, justly to value them. This Zeuxis with such perfection depainted Penelope, that himself therein, besides others, had most perfect liking, by means whereof, he subscribed these few words, commended of all men: more easy shall it be, to all such as shall behold this, unkindly to envy it, then with filled hand learnedly to follow it. He besides these did many other things, so perfect, so absolute, and in such sort esteemed, that Pliny reporteth, that even until his time, there was reserved of his doing, a draft of Helena in Rome, as also some other things most curiously depainted: and yet was there, as hath Eusebius, from the time of his death, till Pliny afterward was, and did these things to writing, by just account, five hundred and eight years. The Agrigentines become suitors unto him, to frame them some skilful purtratie, which they might offer unto their Goddess juno, but he to them accorded nothing, before (by his commandment) they had presented unto him a great number of naked maids, of rare and comely beauty, out of which he chose five, which among the rest he deemed to be fairest, and best feutered: who taking from every of these, that which in them best liked him, he finished this excellent, and this fore desired piece. Of Parrasus his competitor, strange matters also find we: Strabo writeth, that among sundry other things, 
Strabo in his 14. book.  he fashioned in the I●le of Rhodes, a Satire standing fast by a certain Column or Pillar, on the highest part of which, he had depainted a Partridge: but although this Column, and Satire were absolutely done, yet this Partridge so far surpaste them in perfection, that in the judgement of all men she seemed to have life, so that without regard of tother part of the table, each man was amazed at the excellency of the bird, whose perfection in deed was such and so absolute, that they placing before the said table certain tame Partridges (as presently we may in cages very easily keep them) began to call, and offered to fly to him, being as is above said, only painted. By mean whereof Parrasus besought the Magistrates of Rhodes, that he might with their licence deface and remove him, considering it stained the beauty of the other parts of the table, which were assuredly most famous and excellent. Pliny also writeth of him matters strange, and marvelous, affirming that some of his works were also found in Rome. And farther addeth that among others, sundry his perfections, he had a subtle or secret kind of practice, besides his open and seemly proportions, whereby he gave men, plainly to understand the nature or conditions, of what soever he depainted, as is written, he did in the Idol of the athenans: which in such order and manner he handled, that besides the rare beauty, and excellency of the subject, each man might see the ordinances, manners, and customs of the athenans: who as he was assuredly a prince in that his art, so was he in all other things of a most sharp and fined wit, neither in drawing his lines, or proportions was he bolder, than he was pleasant, with all men, merry and well disposed. Whence he oft times would say that painting had well schooled him, in the perfect loare and usage of wisdom, and knowledge But being entered, into the consideration of this matter, it shall not be besides the purpose, some thing to speak in few of Apelles, Prince and master of all other Painters, as also some what of Protogines, singular 
Apelles. Protogines.  also, and excellent in this art.   

Of that excellent Painter Apelles, as also of Protogenes an other in his time. Chap. 7.  
THat of one, and of the said subject, we have here presently written two chapters, is though for some others, yet chief for two causes: the one, for that the length, and continued prorsis, wearieth commonly, whatsoever the reader, which some times before they come to the end, forget what they red at the first, or beginning: the other, for the dignity of him, of whom our pen shall speak here presently, well deserveth, or meriteth his chapter a part, to the intent, it may the better be considered of the readers. This then is Apelles in the skill of Painting, the only Phoenix, and mercour of all others. He had to master one Panphilus, 
Pamphilus Apelles his master.  very excellent in his science, who never took scholar by the year, for less price, then for one whole talent Attic, valuing by our account, six hundred cro●nes sterling. In the time of this Apelles, Protogines also lived, in this art most famous, such both, and so perfect in their profession, that hardly men knew, which merited highest commendation. By mean whereof, Apelles advertised of his excellency, determined on a time, to go, to visit him, and happily in few days arriving at Rhodes, where at that time Protogines dwelled, dissimuling, that he was driven thither, by adverse wind and weather, and entering at the gates, or house of Protogines, found him not, whom he sought, then presently at home, and having demanded, where he might be, of an old woman that kept the house, took leave to departed about other his affairs, but this old woman said, whom shall I say you are, that have sought here Protogines? Apelles strait taking in hand a pinselle, which he there found, turning to her, said, thou shalt say to Protogines, that he, that drew this line here, would gladly have spoken with him, and in uttering these words, framed there so curious a line, so straight, & so well proportioned that it well argued what he was, that with learned hand had drawn it. Now after this, Protogines immediately returning, advertised of all things, as is afore said, who after he had advised himself, of this skilful line, said, that besides Apelles, no man that lived, could do it: and so incontinently taketh in hand an other pinselle, and with a contrary colour, upon Apelles his line, draweth then the second, so fine and so well fashioned, that besides himself, none could, by common judgement do it, commanding forthwith his woman, that if he by hap returned, that she should show him that line, as also farther learn him, that Protogines had done it, whom he so much desired. Apelles then returning, the other being for thee, the old woman, as she received in commandment of her master, presenteth forthwith to him, this second line, to consider of. Where at, as all amazed, at the great advantage, that Protogines had gained, took in hand again, the second time the pinselle, and sondereth in the middle Protogines his line again, which hardly might be seen, so small it was & subtle, but with the third colour, Apelles notwithstanding, in such extreme perfection, parteth both the others, that for the fourth he leaveth, no kind of place in the world. Protogines then returning, and seeing what had chanced, confeste the truth, Apelles to be in deed his better, and runneth all about, with painful care to seek him, to the only intent, he might do him convenient honour, lodging him in his house with him, and with none other. After this, this table with these three lines only, was brought unto Rome, where it long was kept, reputed for a miracle, until the reign of Caesar, when as by sudden fire, with great sorrow, it was among other things consumed. Apelles when he had nigh perfected any work, he usually would set it in open street to the vine, himself close hid behind it, to listen, and to espy, if any man with reason, therein reproved any thing, acquainting himself with the judgement, and censure of the people. Now on a time it chanced, that a Shoe maker should pass that way, who highly commending the resude of the work, found some little fault in the latchette of a shoe: by mean whereof Apelles upon the said table, writeth forthwith these few words, or sentence, Apelles hath done this, but yet hath not done it, giving all others thereby to understand, that he not yet accounted it, or perfect, or absolute. He lived in the time of Alexander the great, of whose grace, and favour, in such sort he was assured, that Alexander commanded by edict, or proclamation, that none should be so hardy to draw, or depaint his purtraite, but only Apelles, among so many others. Farther he eftsoons would go visit him, when he was working in his shop alone, which argueth the great reverence, and estimation of that science, as also that Apelles surpassed every other. Besides this, lo an other, a rare show of his friendship, for Apelles at his commandment, having drawn to the quick, and curiously proportioned, one of his fairest, and best boloved concubines, which had to name Campaspa, who was in deed 
Campaspa a concubine of Alexander's.  so fair, so perfect, and so well feautered, that this poor Painter, now become of her enamoureb: which thing, as soon as Alexander once perfectly understood, determined to leave her, as in deed he did, giving her for wife now, to his sure afflicted, and tormented friend Apelles. Which thing might well be registered, among his most famous victories, for that subduing his own proper affections (which is of all others the best, and happiest conquest) he contented himself to forego her, bestoweing her on an other. Some report that afterward, upon the said purtraite of Campaspa, he with excellent skill depainted the figure also of Venus. He could so artificially counterfeit to the quick, that on a time Ptolemy, as well one of Alexander's successors, as also king of Egipte (after whose death, he lived still in Ptolemy's indignation) ordained a great, a rich, and a solemn banquet unto the which, in plain derision, and mockery, Apelles was invited a jest in the kings name, whom, when the king espied, in great ire, and disdain, demanded whose jest he was, and who had called him thither: which when he understood, he took in hand a coal, and without any answer, suddenly proportioned a certain face, or visage, which as it was known his, that unhonestly brought him thither, so was it there by evident, that he to name had Planus. Many other things right mernailous, were also done by him, which in this place would be long, and tedious to remember. In histories, notwithstanding, we read of things almost impossible, as that he should depaint the scorching beams of the Sun, the lightnings also, and thunders, with others the like, and semblable. His works to conclude, were such, and so excellent, that a certain table of his, of part by mishap stained (in which Venus was purtraied, as issuing out of the sea, which also Octavian, as an especial ornament, did to be placed in the temple of julius Caesar) could never after be mended, for none durst be so bold, to take the thing in hand, not able to conform it to the first, and ancient pattern. Not long before his death (the last thing that he did) he yet began an other, or draught, or pourtraite, of the said Venus, so perfect, and so absolute, in all respects, and parts, that dying before he ended it, none after might be found, the durst, or could well end it. He depainted also a horse, in such extreme perfection, that other Painters took it for a patron, and example, whence having in the end portrayed many a curious steed, and pricked with emulation, each hunting after fame, would make some final proof, which nighest touched the mark, and so doing to be brought, certain horses out of a stable, leading them before these others now depainted, which passed, and past again, as nothing there at moved: but when Apelles his horse was brought into the place, the other began to bray, & stir, as is their common usage, which thing to do, they refused at the presence of th' others: whence how far he surpaste them in th' excellency of this work, was evident without more, and plain to be seen of all men. Besides this, his happy wit was not only seen, in his passing skill of painting, but further, by his learned, and philosophical sentences: for being commended of Protogines, as one that far excelled all others, in that his art, answered, you are quoth he Protogines, mine equal, and my fellow, only one fault you have, that you never solace yourself, foredulled with incessaunte with weary toil, & practise. Learning him thereby, that continual pain, and labours, without convenient cease, or moderate recreation hurteth, and annoyeth the spirits, and understanding, as on the other side some pretty pleasant exercise, comforteth the wearied man▪ and hardeneth him a fresh, the better now to tolerate what soever his first, and principal endeavour. An other showing him a certain table of his doing, vaunted that he had done it, in short time, and in haste to whom he said, I see it in the work, though thou hadst told me nothing. Now might we in this place speak also of Protogines, of his fined works, his grave and worthy sayings: although in this respect for his honour & renown at the siege of Rhodes, the sole and only practise of Demetrius might suffice. Who if he once would have given fire to a certain part of the town, had entered at his pleasure, and conquered the whole, but being assured that in the said place, there was reserved a table depainted by Protogines, would by no entreaty attempt the thing that way, but rather would fail to sack, and spoil the city, then to burn this table of such price he esteemed it. The first day therefore that he by hap besieged it. Protogines was found without the City in a small or little garden, busied at his work as if there had been nothing, who although in deed, he knew the presence of the enemy, yet would he not leave to follow, therefore his wonted practice. So being brought forthwith, unto Demetrius, was demanded how he durst in such sort to tarry, and arrest him without the city. I assured myself said he, that thou wast here in arms, against the Rhodians only, and not against good sciences. This done, this prince committed him to certain of his soldiers, to the intent that while he was busied in his painting no man might disturb, disquiet, or molest him, whom also while he wrought, Demetrius in person came oft times to be hold him. Besides these, hard were it to remember how many have excelled in this skill, or science, as Aristides, Asclepiodorus, Nichomachus, Paneus the brother of Fidias, with a multitude of others, which Pliny in his five and thirty book remembreth. And to the intent that men herein, challenge not to themselves, all honour or praise, as to them belonging only, we may remember women their fellows, and their equals, which have done strange things, as any above remembered: as for example, Timerata the daughter of Miconis, which in such passing excellency depainted for the Diana, that it long times afterward was most carefully kept, and honoured still in Ephesus, Irena, Calipsa, Olimpia, Lala Cizicena, with others also many, like famous for their skill in all ages to be honoured. In this our time also many a good work man leaveth, of whom I will writ nothing, lest remembering one or two. I should wrong a greater number.   

Of a strange manner of exile used in Athens, by means of which the most honourable and worthiest personages were oftentimes banished, without any offence, or fault at all committed. Chap. 8.  
THE signory or common weal of Athens (as is to all men well known) was one of the most honourablest and richest in the world: for after it left to be governed by kings, restored again unto desired liberty, it fostered and gave forth, great numbers of worthy men, in arms no less excellent, then in all kind of good letters, of which all histories are every where well furnished. But among all other profitable laws and customs, which they carefully observed, for the only conservation of their government, and liberty, there was one among the rest as well very strange, as to them only proper, which they notwithstanding deemed very fit and necessary, as well to repress and chastise, the proud ambition, and intolerable audacity, of certain their nobles, which waxed in oppression, and tyranny so cruel, that the poor cold no where live exempt from their malice, which was such as here after followeth. At one certain and determinate time, all the inhabitants, of what estate or condition soever, had full authority to exile and banish (yea were it though without cause or reason) any one of their peers, without respect, for the full space of ten whole years, as if they hated him, or feared jest he should by tyranny usurp, or ambitiously choose to him, the whole government or state, or if for any other cause in common, they either did malice, or disdain his person, they proceeded once assembled, in this sort and manner. The magistrates first of all, to whom only this charge was committed, having (as is said) assembled the multitude together, gave to every one of them a little white stone or tile, in which each man should writ the name of him whom he desired at that time above all others to be banished, which after their inscription they restored again immediately to the ' officers, which stones or tiles, the greeks called (Ostraci) whence this manner of exile was also termed Ostracismus. These stones with their inscriptions 
Ostracismus.  this brought in again together, they began forth with orderly to number, and if at least there were not found with one inscription six thousand (for in these assembles, no man was against his will forced, to writ any man's name in his stone, unless he found himself grieved, or otherwise for his pleasure would unkindly do it) they exiled for that year no man at al. But if there were found six thousand or more altogether agreeing on one, and the like number again perhaps on some other, then would they carefully account, and number their stones, and he that was of most in this sort remembered, were he though some times the most virtuous, and most rich within the city, yet was he incontinently banished for the space of ten whole years, without any kind of pardon, mitigation, or remission. Notwithstanding in the mean time, no man deprived him of his possessions, neither in his goods, or lands suffered he any damage, but according to his pleasure, or fantasy, he in all points ordered them, reaping the fruits or commodeties thereof, in as ample and large manner, as if he never had been forced to exile at all. Neither was this law, or custom only ordained, to chastise and correct the ambious extortioner, but also to appease the rage of the common people, moved at times or incenste against their Princes: so that by general consent, the Commons injoing this authority or privilege, banished sometimes those, whose absence in deed, was to their coutrie very profitable● some times such again, only by unkind and unadvised ingratitude, whom for their honest service done to their country, they neither could, nor should without their great harm or detriment have wanted. For proof whereof Themistocles that excellent captain (by whose only counsel and diligence, Xerxes was vanquished, and chaste out of Grece. His navy also discomfited and scattered on the Sea, neither was Athens only by him restored to liberty, but also all Grece to their desired freedom) was by this practice unkindly exiled. Like salerie received Simon that renowned Athenian, which lived even then in the same time with the other, which also so often times had been in field for the safety of his country, where, by his prows, and counsel, he accomplished such enterprises, as peradventure shall never any one man again after him, to weet he subdued the Persians on the Sea, and took of them at one time two hundred Galleys, and the same day not having thoroughly yet quailed their courage, landed in good order with all his army, giving present battle to the resude of that company, which were then landed before him, a huge and great number, whom all notwithstanding he victoriously conquered, by Sea and by land a most fortunate captain. Besides these his excellent virtues, he was also very large and liberal unto all men, making small account of his goods where with fortune above others had largely endued him: he did continually to be opened his fields, and gardens, to the end, the indigent might thence gather such things as they had need of: he secretly also gave to all men large alms, throughout the whole City, he péetied the afflicted, and comforted the needy. He farther by express commandment, gave charge to all his servants, that if they any where found an old man bore or ill apparelled, they forthwith should bestow on him, that theimselues had on presently, contented to take for change, their mean and poor array. To conclude he daily provided a great feast, for all poor men, without respect, within the compass of Athens, by means whereof in short time, he very nigh had consumed whatsoever to him was left by his father Milciades. All these notwithstanding his princely demerits, neither could or were able to exempt him from this exile, from the unknown cruelty, and ingratitude of his country, as to their perpetual ignominy at full recordeth it Cratinus a Poet comical, and Gorgias Leontinus. In manner semblable was banished Aristides, the son of Lysimachus, who for his excellency, and virtuous life, was of all men for good cause surnamed the just, notwstanding the people both feared, & suspected him continually. About the time then that they should proceed in these affairs, behold his strange hap, worthy of consideration, there approacheth unto him one of the citizens, which as he cold not writ, so neither knew he at all Aristides, but by fame for his virtues only, requesting him to writ upon his tile or stone, the name of Aristides, whom he said he would help at that time to banish. Whereat Aristides, as altogether amazed (for he never suspected any such matter) called him, and said: friend come hither, hath Aristides done thee any displeasure? No said he, but it grieveth me to hear him surnamed Aristides the just. plutarch in this sort recordeth this matter, but Paulus Emilius affirmeth, that he framed him this answer: I know not Aristides, but I suppose it will little profit him, that with such diligence, and in so short time, he hath attained to that fame, and honour, to be called (as you hear) of all men Arististes the just. How be it, Aristides at all, gave him no answer, but wrote, as his will was, his own name in his stone. By which means afterward, unkindly exiled, neither waxed he angry, or grieved with his country, but contrariwise most quietly departing, in presence of the multitude, and before them all said: I pray the immortal Gods, that the Athenians never fall into any such kind of misery, that they should have need of, or desire Aristides again. And in deed so came it to pass, that within few days afterward they repented them of their folly, acknowledging with great grief their fault and error: for before these ten years of his exile were expired, yea in the sixth year, by common consent, and suffrage of the people, he was called home again, to his perpetual honour, but to their ignominy, & the inexcusable shame: after which his return, he did sundry valiant, and worthy exploits, being in person present, in that dangerous conflict, on the Sea adjoining to the Isle Salamina, where Xerxes was vanquished, as also present, at the overthrow of Mardonius. So that as I first said, this lot ' of exile for the most part still fell on the most worthy, 
Mardonius was one of Xerxes' Captains.  and most renowned personages. Notwithstanding though hence grew infinite discommodities, yet had it never the less, a certain show, or countenance of honour or majesty, especially that it held men from usurpation an tyranny, dréeding the displeasure and authority of the people. plutarch writeth that the signory of Athens on a time flourishing as well in wealth, as in martial affairs, and chivalry, there were two great estates in honour like, excelling all others, Nicias th'one, 
Nicias, and Alcibiades, each envious of others honour.  and Alcibiades the oath: which both in all things were very curious and dainty, like ambitious and desirous of glory, pursuing each the other with envious emulation: the time now of this Ostracismus very fast approaching of which we have above remembered, both fearing the imminent inconvenience, & peril, did what in them was, to assure theimselues from the hard sentence of exile. In this time there also was in Athens one that had to name Hiperbolus, of base condition, proud, notwithstanding, & very seditious, which, not ignorant of the emulation betwixt Nicias, and Alcibiades, practised by all means, to increase the same, sowing betwixt them seeds of impacable discord and dissension, hoping by this policy, to gain some reputation as also presupposing, that these two, this remaining (as he well trusted) enemies, the one of them should be banished by the Ostracismus following, by mean whereof, he imagined to gain his place, and honour, and so consequently to be accounted one of the chiefest of the whole city. But they both very shortly, well skilled of his practice, disdaining that he of so mean estate, should by this means become their equal, secretly assuaged their ire, and malice, plighting present friendship, and amity, each to other, better liking to cease from their rancour and malice, then to abide the hazard of this present shame, and infamy. This done each of them attempted now busily together to exile by the Ostracismus, the malicious, infortunate, and unhappy wretch Hiperbolus. Wherein they so carefully and so wisely travailed, that they in deed accomplished, that they so then affected, folding him in that snare, that he provided had for others. At which thing the whole multitude broke out into a laughter, beholding a wretch of so vile condition, in exile to be sent forth, whither so many, and so valiant a prince, had passed before him. But in the end this mirth so changed into rancour, that this custom therewith ceaste also for ever.   

Of sundry excellent personages, which by the ingratitude of their Country, have unkindly been banished. Chap. 9  
ALL histories are every where full, of the sundry and manifold ingratitudes, practised by the most ancient, and most famous Cities, even against those, that most honourably have served, and defended them, in their necessities. We therefore shall remember here not many examples, for that to the studious in good histories, it should be less necessary, and superfluous. The great father of the Roman eloquence, and 
Cicero.  most sovereign orator, or since, or before him, which from the perilous conjuration of Catiline delivered that proud, and pompous city Rome, was notwithstanding at the suit of his enemy Claudius, in recompense of his deserts unkindly banished. Which his exile, in Rome, was so much bewailed, that twenty thousand in one day wore mourning apparel for him, by mean whereof, he was restored to his pristinate liberty, called home with great joy, to his inspeakable honour. Demosthenes the sole prince of all Greek eloquence, patron, and protector, of his country Athens, was also by the Athenians in his old age, banished, and yet had they had, some countenance of occasion, sufficient should it not have been, to have exiled of theimselues, such a one as was he. He lamented excessively, and be weapte his departure, so that he went thence in great sorrow, and melancholy, who meeting as he paste, certain athenans, his heavy enemies, began to have some fear, and to doubt them marvelously, which not only did him no kind of outrage, but contrariwise did solace, and aid him, in what soever was to him or fitting or necessary. Which thing some time, considered well of him, as also that he was reproved, for bewaling his departure, said again to those, that did him these curtisies. How would you, that I should not beweep this my parting, seeing myself banished, from my native soil and country, where also mine enemies, are such, and so honest, that I must think myself most happy and fortunate of all men, if in some other place I may find friends, as assured & comfortable? Metellus surnamed Numidicus, in reward of his victory, which he obtained against jugurth king of Numidia, received unkind, and hard sentence of exile, only for that he would not accord unto a certain law, which some others, at that time desired to establish. Hannibal after that he had painfully in sudry dangers well served his country, and although beside he was the most honourable, and most renowned captain of his time, yet might he not enjoy the liberties of his country, but banished, was forced to range, an unhappy pilgrim about the world. Camillus was also unjustly exiled from Rome, at which time the Gauls held it in besiege and took it, and finally as they assaulted the capitol itself, he being chosen again in his banishment dictator, and captain general of all his country, entered, flew, and discomfited them, & restored the City, delivering them out of prison that before had exiled him. Servilius Holla, after having preserved the liberty of Rome, from the ambitious oppression of Spurius Emilius, captain of the horse men, which by all means possible, affected the crown, and had also done him openly to die, in fine received in steed of just guerdon, through banishment to live, an exiled Roman. No country any where read I of more bound unto a man, than was Lacedemonie unto Lycurgus, especially for his laws which he so providently gave them. And although he also were of most holy, and virtuous conversation, courtuous and of a gentle spirit, and nature, of whom, as of him reporteth Valerius Maximus, the oracle of Apollo Pithius, this doubtfully answered, that he knew not whether he might account him, either in the number of the gods, or else of mortal men: notwithstanding he often times was pursued of the citizens with stones, beaten, and driven by force out of their town, and in the end having pluck one of his eyes out of his head, banishte him also out of their land & territory. The semblabe was also done, to Solon, by the athenans, which also gave them like laws, and ordinances as th'other, which if they had (as was his will) continually observed, their Empire, by all presumption, had yet still continued. Besides that he also conquered, and recovered the City of Salamina, unto them, with the same also, advertising them of the rebellious conjuration of Pisistratus, which by usurpation and tyranny, busily sought, and affected the Crown, was yet notwistanding in his old, and stooping years, with most rigour exiled, not able by any means, at their hands to obtain any one extreme coruer, or end, hpon their frontiers, wheresoever it should please them there to make end yet of his weary life, but to conclude, inexorable, they exiled him, into the Isle of Cyprus. Scipio Nasica, which was reputed for the most virtuous, and worthiest man in Rome, which also neither merited less honour, in the administration, and government of the weal public, than the other Scipios by their prows, and courage in the field, he notwithstanding after he had delivered Rome, from the malice, and tyranny of the Greeks, understanding of the envy, and sinister opinion, that divers romans had conceived of his virtuous dimerite, feigning that he went some where in imbasie, withdrwe himself,, of purpose, and willingly into Pergamon, wherwithout malising again his ungrate country, ended the rest of his days there in peace. In like manner Publius Lentulus, after he had with honour defended his country, repressing also the furious attempts of the Greeks, was with like courtesy, for his pains exiled: howbeit before his departure thence into Sicily, besought the gods immortal in the presence of the multitude, that they never would permit that he returned again, to so unkind as were they, and so unthankful a people. Boecius Severinus, a man to the above remembered in no point inferior, was by Theodoricus the usurper, dishonourably expulsed, only for that he supposed, he would pain himself, to restore his country again to liberty. For this cause also Denis, that execrable tyrant, exiled that most worthy captain Dion of Siracusa, who by his exile afterward become so puissant, that he again re-entered, and banished the tyrant, depriving him, of that his signory for ever, restoring his country to the pristinate, and ancient liberty. The very semblable happened to Trasibulus, a captain Athenian, which by the fatal malice of thirty tyrants, that then held the whole country in miserable subjection, was also unnaturally, and unkindly exiled. But he notwithstanding to revenge himself on them, assembled together divers others before expelled, with whom, as with the help also of Lisander, a Lacedaemonian, returned in arms against Athens, and delivered it from servitude. Publius Rutilius Consul of Rome, banished by the favourites, or fauters of Silla, though, after desired to return again, refused saying: I will that Rome rather take shame, that she hath so unjustly exiled me, then thank her to return again, that so rageth with tyranny. Terquinins the proud, though not without cause in deed, but for his lewd demainoure, cast out of Rome, lost his honour, and royalme, for the unchaste rape done, by his son, on Lucretia. Milo Patricius an honourable Roman, somewhat susspected, touching the death of Claudius, whose cause though it were of Cicero defended, was notwithstanding exiled into Marseilla. Clistines was the first, that instituted the law of banishment in Athens, and the first that by the law was thence exiled. Eustachius Pamphilius Bishop of Antioch, was banished for that he reproved the schismatical sect of the Arians, in the time, & reign of Constantine the great. Paulus Diaconus that famous historiogripher, writeth that Pope Benedictus the first, was contrary to God's laws and man's laws, driven out of Rome, by his enemy the Emperor Auton. The said Auton vanquished the Emperor Beringerius, with his son Albert, and sent them both into perpetual erile. Hence we learn now, that infinite great personages have been expelled from their countries, and in Rome it was esteemed for so great a punishment, that none was thence banished, before all the people had thoroughly, consulted of the matter. And assuredly the affections that man beareth, or oft to bear to his country, is continually such, and so vehement, that we can not exile without extreme pain, and languish. For the consolation therefore, of all such as shall be banished, plutarch hath written a singular treatise, as also Erasmus, to the said purpose a notable Epistle. Seneca in like manner, in his book of consolation, dedicated to Paulinus, touching the said subject discourseth very learnedly.   

Of a strange adventure betide a certain prisoner, and how after his weary imprisonment, he was in the end made free and delivered. Chapt. 10.  
AS things strange, and miraculous should not to lightly for any cause be remembered, so neither mind I in this place to pass, or to report any thing, not left us by some other of sufficient warrant. Alexander of Alexandria, a man as is above said, well skilled in the sciences, writeth this among other things, as a truth most certain. There was saith he in Italy, the place he nameth not, a certain greateprince, or governor of that country, whom by name he also leaveth, in his discourse to remember, in all points mercilis, cruel, and tyrannous. It chanced that a poor vassaule of his, a man of mean condition, against his will, and by hap, slew him a grey Hound which he much esteemed, whereat this tyrant waxed forthwith so wroth, that presently he did him to be thrown into a great and deep dungeon, locked up with many keys, under safe and good guard. Shortly after his keeper, in bringing him (as was his manner) his repast or dinner, found all the doors locked, and bard, as he before had left them: but entering into the place where usually this prisoner arrested him, found him not, but his chains or fetters all whole, and not sundered. Which thing reputed for strange, and marvelous, was incontinently presented unto the above remembered Governor, who with most diligence, that was to him possible, made general search for him, from house to house, but failed to hear of him, any thing in the world. The case, in this respect, seemed therefore miraculous, for that the fetters were all found in the prison that bound him, not crack, or disriveted, but fast and surely joined, the gates eke so posted that nothing might pass thereat. Three days after this, the prison so remaining, as before still fastened, the keepers then void of all charge, or care, heard notwithstanding a sudden skriche, or cry, in the same place, where of custom this poor wretch before was lodged, and hasting to the place, to see what it might be, found the poor prisoner there craving his dinner, who was as before, fast folded in his fetters, his face pale, wan, dreadful to look on, his eyes hollow, and staring, resembling more perfectly, a dead corpse, than man living. These keepers hereat, altogether amazed, demanded him where, or in what place he had suggerned, but he again would answer them nothing, but that they forthwith should bring him to the gonernour, for that he had to acquaint him with matters of importance, whereof his lord, and signior advertised, was brought incontinently, accompanied of many, before whom and in whose presence, he presented thus his charge. Finding myself saith he, prisoner, in so loathsome and obscure a prison, I entered with very pain, into deep despair, calling on the Fende for sucker, and assistance, to the intent he thence would carry me, whither soever it best might like him: who after small suit in terrible form appeared, with whom in all points I thoroughly agreed, so that he thence would, and out of prison deliver me. Immediately then he took me, and removed me thence, I know not how, which way, nor whither, suddenly descending into certain deep places, terrible, tempestuous, obscure, and dreadful, where I beheld infinite millions, and millions again of people, which with unspeakable torment of fire, as well as otherwise, were so afflicted, as my tongue in no sort can speak or utter, their tortures were ugly, and ramping devils: there saw I all sorts of people whatsoever, as Kings, Popes, Dukes, Prelates, with divers of mine own acquaintance, late dead, and departed hence. Farther there found I an old friend of yours, of all others some time, most faithful and assured, which of you demanded me much, of your behaviour, and manners, and whether you yet remained such as you were wont to be (to weet) a fell, and most accursed tyrant: to whom I answered yea, and that you still remained, without change the same, that he at his death, and departure hence left you. By means whereof he most instantly besought me, that at my first return I should, from him earnestly advertise you, to make change of your life, to leave this your tyranny, with none unreasonably taxis, to charge or grieve the people, with many such others, the like and semblable, for he assertened me that your place was there lotted out with him, where you Eternally should smart for it, if in time you repented not. And to th'intent you the better should credit me, he gave me to remember you, by this sign or token: tell him said he, that when we both were in filled, and in arms together, that he remember, that one a time our watch word was such, which, such as it was in deed, the prisoner faithfully recounted. This understood, this great lord or governor, began forthwith to fear, to tremble and appaule, assured that God only, his friend, and himself, knew of this watch word, and besides them none other, and then demanded what apparel, his friend had on him presently, who answered that he was none otherwise clad, than he was wont to be here, attired sumptuously in crimson Satin. How be it said he, in deed, it was none such as it appeared, for it nothing else was, but a burning, and continual fire, for proof whereof said he, as I approached to have thouchte him by the sleeve, I burnt my hand, as you presently may here see. Besides these he spoke of other visions, both fearful, and terrible, of which all when this gentleman had well considered, he willed him to be at liberty, in his own house or palace. Some report that he was so pale, and ugly, that hardly his own wife, or other his friends could know him. He after this lived not many days, scarce of perfect mind, frantic and weak. Notwistanding how few soever they were, he spent them yet virtuously, providing only for the health and safety of his soul, for having ordered how his goods should be after him distributed, he continually spent the time, in bewailing his offences. But how this matter profited, or called to repentance this noble man, thereof writeth Alexander no one word at all, only affirming this history to be true.   

That the blood of a bull causeth them to die that drink thereof at any time, as also, who first brought the Bull to the yoke. Chap. 11.  
FOr as much as a Bull is a beast so common, and ordinary, that we as well feed on him in every our necessities, as of that which he engendereth man's principal provision, it might appear strange and contrary to nature, that his blood drunk warm, with out any kind of mixtion, should empoison, or cause man presently, to starve, and to die. Dioscorides notwithstanding, as also 
〈◊〉. in his▪ 6 book. Pli. in his. 28.  Pliny affirm that his blood warm, is very pestilent, and venomous, and that it killeth whosoever thereof drinketh. plutarch writing of Midas, of whom so many good histories, and fables also make mention, saith that he being troubled with certain terrible imaginations, or visions, in to which without amendment he daily entered farther and farther, by no means able to find any kind of remedy, determined (which he also performed) to drink the blood of a Bull strangled, whereof incontinently, and forth with he died, Themistocles an Athenian, and excellent captain, which defended all Grece from the violence, and invasions of Xerxes, exiled from his country, went thence to the court of Artaxerxes, unto whom (for just cause grieved with his unkind country) he promised to utter a certain mean, how he should easily subdue and conquer all Grece: but when after the king called on him for the performance thereof, he then again with mind wholly altered and changed, desired rather to die, then to acquit him of his promise, and so feigning that he first would sacrifice unto Diana, drank the blood of a Bull, which he then had sacrificed, whence he presently died as recordeth plutarch. 
Plutarch in the life of Themistocles.  The cause or reason that may hereof be given, why I say, the blood of a bull drunk warm should kill, is borrowed of Aristotle, Pliny, and Dioscorides, who to 
Aristotle in his third book, de animalibus. Pliny in his eleventh book Dioscorides in his sixth book.  gather affirm, that it is, for none other cause, but that this blood so drunk strangely congealeth, and hardeneth incontinently, yea much more than the blood of any other beast: so that in quantity, once entered into the stomach, it curdeth, causing faintness and suffocation, and stoppeth with the same the forces of respiration, and feeling, whence suddenly of necessity followeth also death. Pliny writeth, that Colewo●rtes boiled in the abovesaid blood are very medicinable against an oppilation: this blood then by itself drouncke is pestilent, and venomous, but in composition mixed with other things, is both wholesome and profitable. Man (to whom god hath framed all things subject) hath by this beast no less profit, and service, then by the others of that kind, which he alone engendereth. For which only cause Columella preferreth him before all other beasts, affirming that to kill a Bull, was in times passed, a crime very heinous, and almost in deed capital. Pliny writeth of one that was banished, for that he killed a bull. The first that tamed the Bull, and laid youke on his 
Diodorus in his fourth and fift book.  neck, was as Diodorus reporteth one Denis, or Dionysius, the son of jupiter and Proserpina. But Pliny in his seventh book deemeth the contrary, affirming that it was an Athenian, and height Briges, others some suppose that it was Triptolemus, of whom Virgil in this sort seemeth to say, that he an infant, was master notwithstanding, and inventor of the crooked Plough. servius indifferently attributeth it as well to Orsiris, as to Triptolemus. I suppose that Virgil left thereof to discover the name, of the inventor of a thing so profitable, and necessary, for that (as it may be presumed) it was not the invention of one sole man only: but rather the want and lack thereof, hath forced man in this case to devise or invent some thing, to which some others to perfect it, have also after added some what. Trogus Pompeius recounteth, that Auidis King of Spain, was the first that laid mastering hand on the wild and savage Bull, the first also that fitted them to the yoke, or Plough: but in fine whosoever it were, very necessary is his service, and profitable in man's affairs. This beast feedeth contrary to all others, for in taking his repast he goeth always backwards, all others, of what soever kind, marching still on wards. Aristotle writeth 
Aristotle in his third book de animalibus.  of a certain kind of Bulls in Frigia, whose horns are not fastened in the inner part of their heads, and in the bone, but tossing to and fro, grow only coupled to the skin, by mean whereof they so turn them at their pleasure, as their ears, which thing Elian in like sort plainly recordeth. The first that tamed Bulls in Rome, and killed them for man's use, was julius Caesar, which thing Pliny recordeth largely. This beast hath this property of nature or quality lente him that he skilefully prognosticateth of the weather continually, for when it shall rain, he foreshoweth it, in mounting his snout, breathing into the air, or otherwise in seeking some covert besides his wonted manner.   

How necessary water is in all the uses of man's life, of the excellency of this element, and how to find or try, the best water from the other. Chap. 12.  
IN all, the uses of man's life, no one thing is found more necessary, than the element of water, for if he lack at any time bread, he may with sundry kinds of meats as herbs nourish the body, and if fire fail him, sundry things are yet good, and wholesome to be eaten raw, so that man may continued, and live of them for a time: but without water, neither can man, beast, or what so else is, live, or continued in this world at all. There is neither herb, neither plant, of what sort so ever he be, that without water, giveth any kind of increase: for what so ever is, without exception it needeth some times water. Whence Thales Milesius, as also Hesiodus, imagined, that water was the beginning of all things, the most ancient, and first of the other three elements, in virtue also, and force, without comparison surpassing them: for as hath Pliny, and also Isidorus, water moisteth and subverteth great mountains, it ruleth, and hath dominion over the whole face of the earth, it quencheth fire, and changed, into vapours, it also mounteth, or passeth into every the regions of the air, whence after a time, again it descendeth to give increase, and multiply all things upon earth. Farther, God so much esteemed this element above the rest, that concluding, to regenerate man again by Baptism, would that his safety should grow of part by this element. And in the beginning of the world, when he first divided the waters, he in such estimation had it, as hath the text, that he almost next would place it underneath the heavens, less minding in that place, that huge heap of water, that boundeth, and limiteth the parts of the earth. The greatest torment that the romans, had at any time provided for the condemned, was that they were interdicted, both from water, and fire, remembering water in this place before the other, for the more ascertained, and assured excellency. sith then water is so necessary, in every the uses of man's life, here must we then consider of waters, which are the better. For accomplisment whereof, this may be the first note, who so will pass through places strange, and unknown, desirous to learn, whither the waters be there wholesome, yea, or not, as also whether they be to be carried any other where, as necessity, at times, or for causes, may require, first let him diligently, & with advise consider, the places adjacent about the spring, or river, how long the inhabitants there live, their disposition, and nature. Wither they be healthy, strong, and valiant, and of good complexion, their eyes not infected, their legs of good proportion, and able, such where so ever they be well witness of the goodness of their water: but contrary, if you find them, then contrary must be your judgement. But if your spring be late found, so that the fore said experience, of no part help us, then will we refer you to the practices following. Take a basme of Brass; or other vestell, clean, neat, and very well polished, then throw some drops of that wate● there on (of that water I mean, of whose goodness you would make experiment) and if after it be dried, you find at all no kind of stain, or mark; then is that water assuredly, both good and wholesome▪ another good proof may be, if you please to boil of this water, in the said vessel, and after it hath boiled, to let it for a time; to stand, to settle, and to cool, then after when ye shall empte it, if in the bottom, you find no kind of slime; or sand, then is that water to be reputed for good: and of these waters, if ye make proof of two, that which hath lest, is to be accounted, without more the best. Farther if in these vessels, or in the semblable, you do to be boiled any kind of pulse, to make there with some pottage, or other meat, as beans, pease, or other of that sort, that water in which they first seeth, is best. You must consider also, if certainly you will, judge of waters, in what place, or soil they spring, and rise, if out of a sandy ground, clear, andneate, or contrary out of a miry soil, foul, and unpure, and whither there grow any Rushes, or other herbs, or weeds noisome, and pestilent: but for better surety, who so would drink of a water unknown, or of such, as he deemeth to be indeed, less good, let him with a small fire, first of all boil him, and then after being cold, drink of him in his need. Pliny writeth, that the Emperor Nero, so boiled his water, and then cooling it in the Snow, gloried that he was the father of such an invention. The reason why water boiled, should therefore be more conducible, is for that it is not pure, and simple in his own nature, but is all together mixed, both with the earth, and the air: notwithstanding, the part windy, as it easily resolveth, by the fire into vapours, so that other substance also terrestrial, by the said virtue, or force of the fire (whose quality, is to try, and disioigne contrary natures) descendeth to the bottom, and lower parts of the vessel. By which means, this boiled water romaineth less vaporous, all the windy substance thereof perfectly consumed: it also again is more subtle, and light, being this purified from the gross and stimie substance, and so consequently more easy to be kept, and conserved, compitently refreshing, and moisting the body, without any alteration, or oppilation at all. Whence it is evident, that these deep wells, or tie pits, give none so good, and wholesome waters, as are the others, principally for that, the water more savoureth of some slimy nature, and that it is at no time, purified by any show of the son, as that also it more easily putrefieth then any other. How be it, the more that you draw out of any such well, the better, and the more profitable becometh the water, for that by continual motion, corruption less engendereth, and nothing better from putrefaction preserveth any water, then perpetual, and incessant agitation: for once corrupted, it impoisoneth the new waters, in their springs themselves, as letted or lacking free course or passage: but still drawn, new cometh on more fresh still, and savoury. For which cause the water of standing ponds, and diches, is of all other most pestilent, and venomous, which, for that it hardly springeth, and hardly passeth thence again, putrefieth, and engendereth sunderie empoisoned matters, and oft times (which worst is) it corrupteth the air, whence the inhabitants there about, are ordinarily infected. Consider we also, that these waters, which flow towards the south, are not so wholesome, as those that run to the North: for the air in the south, is more vaporous, and moist, which hurteth of part, and impaireth the water: but in the north more subtle, and dry, whence the water is more light, and more void of ill mixtions. For which cause, that water is ever more best, which is most clear, most light, most subtle, and most purified, for it is, as we foresaid most free, from the mixtion of the other elements, and being set over the fire, wareth also warm, and boileth before any other. Farther also, a very certain, and singular proof of waters is this, if ye circumspectly consider, which of them first, or before the other boileth, being both putre in like vessels, over one fire, with like consideration of time in them both, also which of them in like manner, first returneth to his natural quality, to be that, he first was, cold in taste, and feeling, for these are assured arguments, of a most subtle, and piercing substance: and for as much as the mixture of the earth, with any kind of water, forceth, or causeth some alteration in weight, it shall be good to choose still, that which you find lightest, which easily you may prove in this sort, and manner following. You shall take two pieces of linen cloth, of one and the same weight, putting one into one water, and the other into the other, until they be both throw moistened, and weet, then hung them in the air, where the Sun shineth not on them, so long until they both be perfectly dry, rewaight them then again, and the cloth which you find to poise or draw deepest, argueth his water to be undoubtedly most weightiest. Other some have used for their more expedition to weigh them in vessels pure, neat, clean, in weight not differing, with out any farther curiosity at all. Aristotle and Pliny affirm, that the greatest cause of divers qualities in waters, is, and riseth only of sundry substances, or manners of their soils, by the means of Stones, Trees Mines, and Metals, through which these springs or Rivers run, and for this cause they become some hot, some cold, some sweet some salt, some savoury, some less savoury: wherefore it is a sure, and an infallible rule, that these waters that have no taste, smell, or savour, are continually reputed, for the most wholesome, and best. All such notwithstanding, as have hereof written, together affirm, that these springs, that pass thorough mines of gold, excel, without comparison, by many degrees the others: for proof whereof, these rivers are accounted most worthy of all others, which engender and preserve gold in their fine, and small sands: but because we particularly, some thing have said of the propriety of springs, and rivers, we leave here to weary the reader with examples. Now then, sith some things have been spoken of fountains, and bloods, it followeth that we consequently treat of rainy waters, which of some are reputed for very sovereign, and medicinable, but of others some accounted less profitable, or necessary. vitrvuius and Columella, with certain other Physicians, highly commend all rainy waters, but these especially that are received clean, pure, without any kind of gross, or terrestrial substance: for that of themselves, say they, these waters, are light, and void of all mixtion, caused only of vapours, which by their only subtility, are taken up into the air, leaving, as may be supposed, all impure, or slimy substance behind them. Some nevertheless, say, that this water, descending in this sort from above, prutrifieth incontinently, as is to be seen in standing pools, or diches, which engender infinite ordures. How be it, to speak indifferently, this is not to be attributed, to any default, or imperfection in this water, but rather for that it is reserved in so vile a place, into which most commonly flow, all noisome sinks, and unsavoury gutters, with others of that sort, less meet to be here remembered, as also of part, by the ordure, that it draweth, and bringeth with it, washing the earth, as it floweth into the above said troughs, or diches, especially when it poureth down, or raineth abundantly. Wherefore, the cause of this sudden corruption, of part proceedeth from the extreme heat of the Sun, of part for that it is so pure, and delicate, but mixed now with such contagious, and loathsome impurities, that it immediately, and without stay, corrupteth of necessity. Notwithstanding, if this water so subtle, and well purified, were taken, falling from houses, void of dust, or filth, or rather before it touch any house, or other thing, were received into sonie clean, and pure vessel, it may be thought, that it would prove, more pure than any other, as also that it longer might be, without putrefaction preserned. Others some there are, that plainly affirm the contrary, as Pliny that writeth it to be 
Pliny in his 32. book, and third chapter.  naught, and unwholesome, who also commandeth, that we neither drink, or taste of it, for that these vapours, whence it in the beginning, and first of all riseth, issue, and proceed of diverse things, as also of diverse soils, whence it also receiveth divers, and different qualities, good, and bad, with like, and with the same facility. And again alleging some farther proof, for his assertion, answereth also to that, that we above remembered, less admitting it for comprobation sufficient, as to say, that it therefore is pure, or light, because it is drawn into the regions of the air, whether it (as is evident) not naturally mounteth, but is taken by secret force, and violency of the sun. Neither are these vapours, saith he, which in the middle region of the air, by extreme cold are altered into hail, or snow, so pure, and so perfect, as most men suppose them, but resolved into water, are rather found in very deed pestiferous, and noisome. Besides which defect, he this again addeth, that this rainy water, by the only evaporation, and heat of the earth, becometh infected, even in the same time, and instant that it raineth. For better proof of which impurity, it only is to be noted, how quickly, and how soon, it becometh putrefied, of which we have experience, often times upon the sea, where it impossible is, to preserve, such waters from corruption. For these causes now cisterns, and deep wells, are of most men less commended. How be it, touching these different, and contrary opinions, each man may sentence, according to his fantasy: as for my part, I willingly would not prefer, a rainy water, before the others, although in truth it be, in cases more fitting, and necessary, and although also Pliny, which other wise, discommendeth it, letteth not to report, that fishes in standing ponds, and lakes, quickly wax fat, but then most especially, when it most abundantly raineth, so as they may be thought still, to please most in this water. Theophrastus saith, that all herbs in the garden weeds, or grass, what quantity of water so ever you bestow on them, spring thence, notwithstanding, in no respect so well, as with some pleasant, or small showers of rain. In manner semblable writeth Pliny, of the reed, or bull rush, which the better to grow, or prosper, thirsteth still for rain. Such also is Aristotle's opinion, and consonant to the former, concerning the fatting, or impairing of fishes.   

By what policy we may draw freash water out of the Sea: and why cold water in falling maketh greatet noise than it would do, if it were warm: finally why a Ship on the salt water, beareth greater weight then on the fresh, Chap. 13.  
ARistotle writeth, as also Pliny, that we should frame certain vessels of wax, hollow within, so binding, or closing them, that in them, be found no hole, or vent, letting them down into the Sea, fastened in some Net, or other fit matter, with long lines, or cords, whence, (after they there have been the space of one whole day) if we again draw them, we shall find in every of them a certain quantity of fresh water, such, and so good, as in any spring, or fountain. The reason why the salt water becometh fresh, by the entrance into these vessels, is in this sort given us of Aristotle, who saith, that the wax being a body both full of powers, and sweet, granteth passage to the most pure and subtle part of the water, which as it leaveth without his gross, and saulte substance, so piercing it savoureth of the waxy nature, sweet and pleasant. In truth if it be so, (I say again, if it be so, for that I never yet practised in any sort, this secret) it might well serve in sundry our necessities, which commonly betide us, in infinite our affairs. How be it, I suppose, that if this salt water wax fresh by the only and sole entrance, in to the above said vessels, the said vessels in like sort, filled also full with the Sea, should give us some small quantity, or measure of fresh water, for filled, as is afore said, why should not the purer part, pass through these porie vessels, leaving within, the slimy, or saulte substance of the Sea, as being cast void into the Sea, should receive there, by contrary order inwards, water pure, and immixte, without any drop at all of the other? The reason seemeth one, as tending both to one end, unless we should devil here, on some scrupulous difference, arguing that by the same mean: and by the same facility, this fresh water distilleth not out, of the full vessel, as on the other side it entereth, into the void, and empty: for that some appearance is, of greater force, in going out, then is (as some suppose) at the entrance, or coming in: how be it, who so curious is, may make easy proof, both of the one & the other. Farther for their sakes, that please in these experiments, one other thing shall I writ, in this place not less necessary. Who so filleth at any time two Bottles of one measure, the mouth, & neck, of like length, and widnes, the one with boiling water, the other all cold, and straigh ways will empte them, after one sort, without guile (at one time, I mean, and in one instant tegether) shall find that the cold water will, as well be first out, as also that in falling, it assuredly will yield a greater brute, or noise: the boiling water sliding, on the other side, slowly and with less noise. The reason is, that the warm water less poiseth then the cold, which by heat of the fire, hath lost now the greatest quantity of his gross vapours: so that when first the cold water beginneth to stream forth, that part that is behind still, by his weight pusheth, and thrusteth on the former, by continual force, or fight as it were, in such sort, that the only weight first causeth the cold Bottle to empte, as also by the same mean, it noiseth as is evident, or resoundeth something farther. Which answer as Aristotle, in this respect giveth, so also learneth he us, of an other the like practice, which rather by experience, than reason, we see daily. A Ship saith he, in the Sea, or in the salt water, carrieth far a greater weight, than he doth in the fresh: for the Sea (addeth he) is a more thick or grosser substance, and beareth a charge, or burden more huge than the other, being of a nature in respect more pure, and subtle. For proof whereof, experience this learneth us, that if we cast into a river an Egg, immediately it sinketh, and passeth to the bottom, but contrary wise, if you throw him into the Sea, or salt water he swimmeth, as supported, by a greater force, or violence.   

Of the renowned and great Tamburlaine, of the kingdoms and countries that he subdued, and finally of his practice, and manner in war. Chap. 14.  
THere hath been among the Greeks, romans, the people of Carthage, and others, innitfie, worthy and famous captains, which as they were right valiant, and fortunate in war: so were they no less fortunate, in that some others by writing commended their chivalry to the posterity for ever. But in our time we have had one, in no respect inferior to any of the others, in this one point notwithstanding less happy, that no man hath vouchsafed, by his pen in any sort to commend him, to the posterity following. So that I, who most desired something to speak of him, have been forced together here, and there little pieces, and pamphlets, scarce lending you any show of his conquirous exploits, the same also confusely, and without any order. This then, of whom we speak, was that great and mighty Tamburlaine: who in his tender years was a poor labourer, or husbandman, or (as other some report) a common Soldier, how be it, in the end he become Lord, of such great kingdoms, and signiories, that he in no point was inferior to that prince of the world Alexander: or if he were, he yet came next him, of any other, that ever lived. He reigned in the year of our Lord God, a thousand, three hundred four score and ten. Some suppose that he was a Parthian borne, a people less honourable, then dread of the romans: his farther and mother, were very poor, and needy: he notwithstanding was of honest & virtuous conditions, well fewtred, valiant, healthy, quick & nimble, sharp witted also, of ripe, and mature deliberation, and judgement, imagining, and devising, haute and great enterprises, even in that his most, and extreme penury, as though he some times should be a master of many things. He was of a valiant and invincible courage, so that from his Cradle, and infancy, it seemed he was vowed to Mars and merciall affairs only. Where unto he gave himself, with such painful endeavour, that hardly a man might judge, whether he were more happy in deed, in advised cousel, or princely dexterity. By mean of which his virtues, and others, that we shall hereafter remember, he in short time acquired such honour, and reputation, as is to be supposed man never shall do again. His first beginning was, as writeth Baptista Fulgotius, that being the son of a poor man, keeping cattles in the filled, living there with other boys of his age, and condition, was chosen in sport by the others for their king, and althought they had made in deed, this their election in play, he whose spirits were ravished, with great, and high matters, forced them to swear to him loyalty in all things, obeying him as king, where, or when, it should please him, in any matter to command them. After this oath then, in solemn sort ministered, he charged each of them forthwith to cell their troup and cattle, leaving this servile and base trade of life, seeking to serve in war, accepting him for captain: which in deed they did, being quickly assembled of other work men, and pastors, to the full number, at least, of five hundred: with whom the first attempt that ever be took in hand, was that they robbed all such merchants as any where paste nigh them, and after he imparted the spoil so justly, that all his companions served him, with no less faith than love, and loyalty, which occasioned sundry others, a new to seek, and follow him. Of which news in the end, the King of Persia advertised, sent forth under the conduct of one, of his captains, a thousand horses well appointed to apprehend and take him: at whose coming, he so well knew in this matter how to bear him, that of his enemy he soon had made him, his assured friend, and companion: in such sort that they joined both their companies together, attempting, then before, enterprises much more great, and more difficile. In the mean time a certain discord, or breach of amity grew, betwixt the King of Persia and his brother, by occasion where of Tamburlaine took part with the Kings brother, where he so ordered the matter in such sort, that he deposed the King, and advanced the other. After this, by this new prince, in recompense of his service, he was ordained general of the greater part of his army, who under pretext that he would conquer, and subdue, other provinces to the Persians, mustered still, and gathered, more Soldiers at his pleasure, with whom he so practised, that they easily revolted like Rebels following him, subduing their League, and Sovereign. This having now deposed, whom he before advanced, he crowned himself King, and Lord of that country. Now moved with compassion, towards his own country, which long times had been tributory, to the Princes of Persia, and to the Sarrazins, did them to be free, from all service, and exactions, lotting to them for Prince himself, and none other. After this considering with himself, that he presently had gathered a huge and great army, moved privy mutinies and rebellions in other countries, by means whereof, in prosis of time he conquered Syria, Armenia, Babylon, Mesopotamia, Scythia Asiatica, Albania and Media, with others, many territories, rich also & famous cities. And although we find written nothing, of any his wars whatsoever, yet is it to be presumed that he fought many a battle in open filled with the enemy, before he had subdued so many, kingdoms and territories: for as much as all those that remember of him any thing, commend to us the haute exploits, of this most valiant parsonage, and farther that he so circumspectly ordered his company, that in his Camp was never known, any brawl, or mutiny. He was very courteous, liberal, doing honour to all men, according to their demerits that would accompany, or follow him, feared therefore equally, and loved of the people. He so painfully, and with such care instructed his Soldiers, that in an instant always, if it were behoveful, either by sound of Trumpet, or any other, one, only sign given, every man was found in his charge, or quarter, yea though his army were such, so great, and so numerous, as never besides himself, conducted any other. In few his Camp resembled one of the best, and richest Cities in the world, for all kind of offices were there found in order, as also great heaps of merchants to furnish it with all necessaries. He in no case permitted any robberies, privy figging, force, or violence, but with severity and rigour punished, whom soever he found thereof, guilty, or culpable, by means where of his Camp, was no worse of all provisions furnished, than the best City in the world, in time of most safe, and assured security. His desire was, that his Soldiers should evermore glory, in their martial prows, their virtue, and wisdom only. He paid them their salerie, and wage, without fraud, he honoured, he praised, he embraced, and kissed them, keeping them notwithstanding in awe and subjection. This being king now, and Emperor, of sundry Realms, and Countries in Asia, great troops came to him still, out of every quarter, besides these that were in any respect his subjects, for the only fame, of his honour, and virtue. So that his Camp grew in short time to be greater, than ever was that of Darius or Xerxes, for such as writ of him, report that he had, four hundred thousand horsemen, but of foot men a greater number, by two hundred thou sand more, which all he lad with him, at the conquest of Asia the less: where of the great Turk advertised, who then height Baiaceth, Lord and Prince of that country, but present then in person, at the siege of Constantinople, having a little before subdued sundris provinces, and parts of Grece, with other territories adjacent, and Towns there about, thence grown to more wealth, and more feared, than any Prince in the world, was never the less constrained to raise his siege incontinently, passing thence into Asia with all his army, taking up still by the way, as many as was possible, so that as some affirm, he had as many horsemen as had the great Tamburlaine, with a marvelous number of other Soldiers, both old, and of much experience, especially by means of the continual wars, which he had still with the christians. This Baiaceth now like a good, and like an expert captain, seeing that he no way else might resist, this puissant Emperor, determined to meet him, and to give him present battle, having marvelous affiance in the approved manhood, and virtue of his Soldiers. Wherefore marching on within few days, they met each with other upon the confines of Armenia, where both of them ordering as become good Captains their people, began in the break of day, the most cruel, and most terrible battle that erst was ever hard of, considering the number on both parts, their experience, & policy, with the valiant courage, and prows of their captains. This continued they in fight even almost until night, with marvelous sloughter on both sides, the victory yet doubtful, till, in the end the Turks began to faint and to flee, more in deed oppressed with the multitude, then that they feared or other wise, the most part of them with honour dying manfully in the filled: and as one reporteth two hundred thousand were taken prisoners, after the battle was ended, the resude slain, and fled for their better safety. Which Baiaceth, of part perceiving before the end, how it would way, to courage his people, and to withdraw them from flight, resisted in person valianntly the furious rage of the enemy. How be it, he thereby gained such, and so many knokes, that as he was in the end, in deed unhorste, so was he for lake of rescue presented to the great Tamburlaine, who incontinently closed him up, in a Kaege of iron, carriing him still with him, whither soever he after went, pasturing him with the croomes, that fell from his table, and with other baddde morsels, as he had been a dog: whence assuredly we may learn not so much to affy in riches, or in the pomp of this world: for as much as he that yesterday was Prince and Lord, of all the world almost, is this day fallen into such extreme misery, that he liveth worse than a dog, fellow to them in company, and that by the means of him that was some times a poor Sheaperde or if you rather will, as some report, a mean soldier, who after as we see aspired to such honour, that in his time none was found that durst, or could abide him: the other that descended of noble race or lineage, constrained, to live an abject, in most loathsome, and vile servitude. This tragedy might suffice, to withdraw men, from this transitory pomp, and honour, acquainting theimselues with Heaven and with heavenly things only. Now this great Tamburlaine, this mighty Prince, and Emperor, over ran all Asia the less, to the Turk before subject, thence turning towards Egypte, conquered also Syria, Phenicia, and Palestina, with all other Cities on their borders, of what side so ever, and besides these Smirna, Antioch, Tripoli, Sebasta, and Damascus. afterward being come, with all his army into Egypte, the Sultan, and the king of Arabia, with sundry other Princes, assembled altogether, and presented him battle, but in the end to their inspecable detriment discomfited, were slain, and spoiled at the pleasure of the enemy: by mean whereof the Sultan saved himself by flight. How be it, Tamburlaine had easily taken from him all Egypte, had it not been, for the great, and inaccessible, deserts in that country, through which to pass with so puisante an army, was either impossible, or at the least verte difficile, not withstanding he subdued all such parts of the Country as were next him. Some report of him, that he then him held best contented, when he found his enemy most strong, and best able to resist him, to th'end he might be occasioned, to make proof of himself, what he was able to do, and how much in his necessity: that which well chanced him at the city of Damascus. For after he had taken the most honourable, and most valiant personages of the city, the others retired into a certain Castle or Hold, such, and so strong, that all men accounted it impregnable, where, never the less, desirous to grow, to some composition with him, were utterly refused, no entreaty prevailing▪ so that in fine, they must needs fight it out, or yield them to his mercy. And finding no place, where he by any means might assault it, built fast by it an other more high and strong then that, where he so painfully, and in such sort dispatchte it, that the enemy by no means cold or let or annoy him, so that his Fort in the end or equal, or rather higher than the other, began his battery, such, and so cruel, that it never ceaste day nor night, until at last he had taken it. It is written of him, that in all his assaults, of any castle or city, he usually would hung out to be seen of the enemy, an Ensign white, for the space of one full day, which signified, (as was then to all men well known) that if those with in, would in that day yield them, he then would take them to mercy, without any their loss of life or goods. The second day he did to be hanged out an other all red, letting them thereby again to understand, that if they than would yield, he only then would execute Th'officers, Magistrates, masters of households, and governors, pardoning, and forgiving all others whatsoever. The third day he ever displayed, the third all black, signifying thereby, that he then had shut up his gates from all compassion and clemency, in such fort, that whosoever were in that day taken, or in any other then following, should assuredly die for it, without any respect, either of man, or woman, little or great, the City to be sacked, and burnt withal to ashes: whence assuredly it can not be said, but that he was very cruel, though otherwise adorned, with many rare virtues. But it is to be supposed, that god stirred him up an instrument, to chastise these princes, these proud, and wicked nations. For better proof whereof Pope Pius, which lived in his time, or at least, eight or ten years after him, reporteth of him saying, that on a time beseigyng, a strong and rich city, which neither on the first, or second would yield to him, which only days, were days of mercy, as is above said, on the third day nevertheless affiing on hope uncertain, to obtain at his hands some mercy, and pardon, opened their gates, sending forth in order towards him, all their women, and children in white apparelled, bearing each in their hands a branch of Olive, crying with haute voice, humbly requestynge, and demanding pardon, in manner so pitiful, and lamentable to behold, that besides him none other was but would have accepted their solemn submission. This Tamburlaine, notwithstanding that beheld them a far of, in 
A barbarus cruelty of Tamburlaine.  this order issuing, so far then exiled from all kind of pity, that he commanded forthwith, a certain troup of horsemen to over run, to murder, and kill them, not leaving one a live, of what condition soever, and after sacking the City, resed it, even unto the very foundations. A certain Merchant of Genua was then in his camp, who had often recourse to him, who also used him in causes familiarly, and who for that this fact seemed very bloody, and barbarous, hardened himself to demand him the cause why he used them so cruelly, considering they yielded themselves, craving grace, & pardon: to whom he answered in most furious wrath, and ire, his face red and fiery, his eyes all flaming, with burning spearckles, as it were blazing out, on every side. Thou supposest me to be a man, but thou to much abbusest me, for none other am I, but the wrath, and vengeance of God, and ruin of the world: wherefore advise thee well, that thou never again presume, to be found in any place in my ●ight, or presence, if thou wilt that I chastise the● not, according to thy desert, and thy proud presumption. This Merchant with out more than suddenly retired, neither after that, was at any time seen in the camp of Tamburlaine. Those things this accomplished, this great and mighty parsonage having conquered many countries, subdued and done to death suudrie Kings and Princes, no where finding any resistance in any part of all Asia, returned home again into his country, charged with infinite heaps of Gold, and treasure, accompanied also with the most honourable estates, of all the countries subdued by him, which brought with them in like manner, the greatest part also of their wealth and substance, where he did to be built a most famous, & goodly city, and to be inhabited of those (as we foresaid) that he brought with him, which altogether no less honourable than rich, in very short time with the help of Tamburlaine, framed the most beautiful and most sumptuous City in the world, which by the multitude of the people, was also marvelously enlarged, abundant, and full of all kind of riches. But in the end this Tamburlaine, though he maintained his estate, in such authority and honour, yet as a man in the end, he payeth, the debt due unto nature, leaving behind him two sons, not such as was the father, as afterward appeared by many plain, and evident signs: for as well by their mutual discord, each malicing the other, as also by their insufficiency, with the lack of age and experience, they were not able to keep, and maintain the Empire conquered by their father. For the children of Baiaceth, whom they yet held as prisoner, advertised of this their discord, and dissension, came into Asia with valiant courage, and diligency, by the aid of such people as they found willing to assist them, recovering their possessions, and territories fore lost, which, in manner semblable did they other Princes, which Tamburlaine before had also subdued. So that this Empire in prosis of time so declined, that in our age there remaineth now no remembrance at all of him, ne of his posterity or lineage, in what respect soever. How be it, true it is, that Baptista Ignatius, a diligent searcher of ancient antiquities, reporteth that he left two sons, Princes and Protectors of all the countries, subdued by him, reaching, and extending even unto the River of Euphrates, as all so their successors after them, even until the time of King Vsancasan against whom the Turk. Mahomet, waiged some times battle. And the Heirs of this Vsancasam, as most men surmise, advanced theimselues, to the honour, and name of the first Sophi, whence now is derived the empire of Sophi, which liveth this day, as sworn enemy to the Turk. Which how soever it be, it is to be supposed, that this history of Tamburlaine, had it of any been written, would have been a matter worthy both of pen and paper: for that great exploits, no doubt were happily achieved of him: but as for me I never found more, than I here presently have written, neither suppose I that any other thing, is of any other man written, this only excepted, where on all men accord, that he never saw the back, or frounyng face of fortune, that he never was vanquished, or put to slight by any, that he never took matter in hand, that he brought not to the wished effect, and that his courage, and industry never failed him to bring it to good end. By means whereof we may, for just cause compare him with any other whatsoever, though renowned in times past. This then that I here give you, that all have I borrowed of Baptista Fulgotius, Pope Pius, Platina upon the life of Boniface the ninth, of Matthew Palmier, and of Cambinus a Florentine, writing the history, and exploits of the Turks.   

Of many lakes, and fountains, the waters of which have sundry, and strange proprieties. Chapt. 15.  
IN the Chapter, where we above, some thing spoke in general, of the perfection of waters, we promised to entreat of the propriety, or effect, of certain springs, or lakes, in particular: of which all, the first shall be the river of judea, Asfaltida, which also was after called the immovable, or dead sea. Of this water Pliny, Columella, and Diodorus Syculus, report many things, both strange, and marvelous. first, that there engendereth, neither fish, foul, or any other living creature, and that nothing having life, may there in be drowned, so that if you throw into it, a man, or any other creature, he by no means shall perish there in, yea, though he be bound in such sort, that he neither swim, or move. These things are recited by Pliny: and Aristotle to give some natural reason for it, 
Pliny in his 5. book, and Ar. in the third of his Mereo.  saith, that the water of this river, is very salt, gross, troublesome, and thick. Cornelius Tacitus addeth also this, an other propriety, that it never moveth, or riseth in any waves, for no wind, what so ever, or great, or vehement. These foresaid authors affirm, as also Solinus, that at one certain time, there gathereth together in this lake, a strange kind of froth, or slime, which is so good, and so strong a mortar, that hardly any weight, or other force dissolveth it. Diodorus Syculus termeth it Bitumen, and Asfalta, so that it seemeth to take his denomination, of this river Asfaltida. Of other lakes we read, that engender the like slime, or mortar, as that, that adioigneth so nigh unto Babylon, with the froth of which, Semiramis did to be built those famous walls of Babylon. Into this water of judea, descendeth the sloodde of jordaine, whose water is most pure, and excellent: but entering into the other, looseth his pristinate virtue, by the only impurity, and imperfection of the other. It is written, that Domician sent thither of purpose, to be ascertained of the truth, concerning this matter, and received for answer, as is afore said. Pliny remembereth us of an other in Italy, called Aue●●a nigh unto the sea, or gulf of Bayas: and this lake is of this property, or condition, that there passeth no bird, of what kind so ever he be, over it, but immediately he falleth down dead into it. The Poet Lucretius, yieldeth this reason for it, saying: that by the means of the great number of trees, that on both sides environ it, and of part by means of the continual shadow, there ascendeth such a vapour, so gross, and so infectious, that immediately it stifleth, or impoisoneth the birds: and farther he addeth, that it of part also proceedeth, of certain obnoxious, and sulfured mines there. Theophrastus, and Pliny, accord both tegether, of a river in judea called Licos, as also of an other in Ethiopia, of like and semblable nature, having the proprieties of oil, or the like matter, which put into a lamp, give light, and burn incontinently. Pomponius Mela, and Solinus, writing of Ethiopia, affirm, that there is a lake, or river, very sweet, pleasant, and clear, in which notwithstanding if any man wash himself, he issueth thence again all anointed, as if he came out of a bath of oil. The semblable to this reporteth vitrvuius, saying: that there is a certain blood in Cilicia, as also nigh unto Carthage, a well of the same property. Solinus, Theophrastus, and Isidorus affirm, that they have heard of two divers wells, of the one, of which two, if a woman fertile, chance to drink, she from that time ever after, shall live sterile, and baron: and contrary wise, if a woman sterile, by hap, drink of the other, she forthwith becometh fruitful, and beareth children abundantly. They again remember us of an other in Arcadia, of which who so drinketh, stearueth immediately. Aristotle in his questions natural, speaketh of one in Thracia, of like, and semblable effect, as also of an other, equal to it in Sarmatia. Herodotus hath, which Pliny, and Solinus confirm, that the river Hypenis, both great and wide, descending down from Scythia, is a water right wholesome, and savoury, into the which, never the less, after the entrance of a little spring, or fountain, it waxeth so bitter, and so unsavoury, only by the saltness, or unpleasant taste of that well, that it is unpossible for any man, in any wise to drink of it. The said authors again as also Isidorus remember us, of two other fountains, or springs in Boecia, of which the one being drunk, utterly taketh from us our memory, the other preserveth it, causing these that there of drink at any time, freshly to call to mind again, what they before had, or lost, or forgotten. Of two others also, the one moving, and provoking men to venery, the other druonke cooleth, and mortifieth their affections. In Sicilia there is a fountain, which the inhabitants call Aretuza, of which (besides the multitude of fish therein, as also that it was an offence, to take, or to eat of them) a strange, and thing incredible, is credibly reported, which is, that within this water, many notable things have been found, which in times long before, had been thrown, into the river Alfea, which is in Achaia, a country of Grece: by means whereof they maintain, and affirm, that the water of this river, passeth thorough the entrails of the earth, springing, and rising again in the above said fountain, passing under the sea, betwixt Sicilia, and Achaia. The authors that report it, are of such credit, and learning, that they easily may harden an other man, to writ it again after them. Seneca affirmeth it, Pliny, and Ponponius Mela, 
Sen. in the. 3. book of his natural questions. Pom. M. in his second book Strabo in the. 6  Strabo, and Servius commenting on the tenth Eglogue of Virgil. Solinus, and Isidorus have this of an other fountain, in to which, who so putteth his hand (for the affirmation, or negation of any thing) taking a corporal oath, if he there protest any thing, against the truth, or verity, his eyes incontinently will dry up, and wax blind. Pliny recordeth the very semblable, also of an other river, which brunt of the hand of a perjured wretch, which reporting an untruth, swore by the said water, thrusting his hand into it. Philostratus in his second book, of the life of Apollo, saith that there was a certain river, in which, who so washed his hands, and feet, being in deed a wilful, and reckless perjurer, was incontinently covered, with a foul, add loathsome leprosy. Diodorus Siculus hath the like also of an other. But if these things to any man, seem less worthy of credit, know he, that Isidorus a man virtuous, and learned, in the report of them, hath followed in most places, the authors above remembered and writeth also of many others, as of the well of jacob in Idumea, which four times in the year, changeth his colour, and from three months, to three, waxeth thick, and troublesome, it now is black, now read, now green, and at last retonrneth to his natural colour again. Of a river also that runneth through the country, of the Troglotides, which three times in the 
A people in Africa which devil in caves and eat the flesh of Serpents.  day, and night, changeth his taste, or savour, to weet, from sweet to bitter, and from bitter to sweet again. Of an other water also in judea, which continually in the Saboth day, is found to be dry, which Pliny assureth us, writing also of an other fountain, among the Garamantes, which in the day, is evermore so sweet, and cold, that it is impossible for any man to drink of it, and contrary in the night, is again so warm, that it burneth his hand, that presumeth to touch it, and hath to name, the fountain, or well of the Sun. Of this fountain have written, as of a thing most certain, Arrianus, Diodorus, Siculus, Quintus Curtius. in his history of Alexander, Solinus, and the Poet Lucretius, 
Lucretius in his sixth book.  who there of hath given a Philosophical, and natural reason. Besides these, like strange is the nature of the well Eleusina, whose water is very fresh, clear, and standing, how be it, if any man play on an instrument, sweet, and musical, by it, so nigh I mean, that the water may be supposed to hear it, it forthwith beginneth in such sort to swell, that it ouersloweth both bank, and border, as though it had some pleasure, or secret liking in music: this reporteth Aristotle in his marvels of nature, Solinus also, and the old Poet Ennius. Vitrunius writeth of the river Chimaera, whose water in taste is very delectable, and pleasant, but parting into two troughs, or two sundry channels, the one continueth sweet still, the other bitter, and unsavoury, how be it, it may be supposed, that he borroweth this alrered quality, of the soil, or ground only, through which he passeth, and so that alteration is less to be marveled at: as also it may be thought, that these divers proprieties, of these, other waters also, should not so much amaze, and trouble us, if we knew the occasions, and causes, of their effects. The same ones again, make yet farther mention, of an other stream, hayung to name Silar, which, what so ever is cast into it, converteth it strait into a stone, or stony substance. In Ilirica there is a well, whose water is both sweet, and pleasant, but burneth what so ever is thrown into it, in sort, as if it were a perfect fire. There is in Epirus an other fountain, into which if ye put a Torch lighted, it extinguisheth, but if you put him in not lighted, he taketh fire thence, and burneth: from noon ever more he ebbeth, as it were, and in the end waxeth dry, but the night growing on, he grows again with such speed, that at midnight, he is full, and beginneth to over run his banks, or limits. another fountain is there also in Persia, of which, who so drinketh, loseth incontinently his teeth. There are in Arcadia certain springs, which distill, and drop out of the sides of sundry mountains, whose waters all, are so excessive cold, that there is no kind of vessel, be it of gold, silver, or any other metal, that is able in any wise, to hold, and keep them, but break them all, with extremity of coldness, only the horn of an ass his foot excepted, which containeth, and keepeth them, as if it were any other, common kind of water. We would hardly credit in this place, that there are certain rivers, both great, and wide, that suddenly pass down, entering into the boils of the earth, which afterward broke out again, in places far of, and far distant from thence, if we had not experience hereof, and such as may not be denied, for example of some, Vadiana in Spain, Tigris in Armenia, which springeth in Mesopotamia, Licus in Asia. There are certain springs also, of fresh water, which passing into the sea, run wholly upon the sea, without any commixtion in any sort with it: of which there is one, betwixt Sicilia, and the Isle Enaria, adioygning unto Naples. In Egipte, it is evident, that it raineth not at all, but that Nilus' overflowing the country moisteneth it naturally, whence it giveth her fruit, of all sorts abundantly. Two rivers are there also in Boecia, in the one of which, all sheep that are watered, bear only black wool, and besides that none other, the other contrary, 'cause them that drink thereof, to bear white wool only. In Arabia, there is a well, at which (as before) what sheep so ever water them, bear there wool, not as the others, white, or black, but red all. Of all these waters, having such strange proprieties, Aristotle disputeth at full, and copiously. The river Lincestis maketh him drunk, as soon as any wine, that drinketh of him. In the Isle of Cea, as recordeth Pliny, there was a fountaives, of which, who so drank once, become forthwith stupid, and insenseble, of no more feeling, or wit, than an Ass. In Thrace there is an other lake, of whom, who so drinketh, or swimmeth in him, starveth without more, never to be recovered. There is also in Pontus a river, in which are found certain stones, that will burn, which also then take on fire, when the wind is ever more greatest, and by how much the more, they be covered in the water, so much the better, and sooner burn they. Besides these, divers have written, of divers other kinds of waters, as of some that heal certain griefs, or maladies, of which sort there is one found in Italy, called Zize, which remedieth, or salueth all hurts, what so ever in the eye: an other in Achaia, of which if a woman with child drink, she shall be assured, of good, and speedy deliverance. Others also there are, that remedy many other infirmities, as the stone, the leprosy, the fevers both tertian, and quartain, of which Theophrastus Pliny, & vitrvuius remember us. In Mesopotamia also is found an other river, whose water, if you smell to it, is both pleasant, and odoriferous. Baptista Fulgotius, in his recollection writeth, that there is also, a well in England, into which, if you throw any kind of wood it will within the space of one year, be converted into a stone. He also faithfully confirmeth that, which Albertus surnamed the great, in person experimented, in a certain well, in high Almaignie: and Albertus writeth, that he putting his hand into the water, having in it a bough, that part that was under the water, changed into a stone, the other part, as before, continuing that it was. The said Fulgotius, reporteth yet, another matter as strange, of a well also, about which if happily you walk, not uttering any word, or voice, at all, the water than continueth, as before, still, and clear, but if you speak any thing, be it never so soft, or little, it than beginneth to rage, and to trouble, as to behold it, were very strange, and marvelous: he notwithstanding, reporteth to have experimented it in person, who while he attentively beheld it with silence, found it as is above said, both quiet, and clear, but when he once spoke, it than began to trouble, as if one, within of purpose, with some instrument had laboured it. In France also is another, equal in coldness with any of the above remembered, and yet often times flames of fire, have been seen to issue out of it. Pliny writeth, that most men are scrupulous in these matters, and make conscience to credit them: how be it assuredly, the secrets of nature, are in manner inscrutable, though in deed, more evidently seen, in this element of water, then in any other thing. And farther, in the world so many things are, so strange, and so marvelous, that we justly may repute no thing (though less common) therefore impossible: especially these that are certified us, of men, of such credit, as are all those, whom we here have alleged. Besides this, we are truly certified, even by those that have seen it, living yet in our time, that in one of the Isles of Canaria, called Ferra, being an Isle populus, and very well inhabited, in a certain place very nigh the middle, they have none other water, then that which distilleth, as is well known, most abundantly, out of the leaves, or branches of a certatne tree, at the foot of which tree, neither any thing nigh it, is there to be found any spring, or other water, never the less this tree continueth always so moist, that both from his branches, leaves, and boughs, it ever distilleth in such quantity, and abundance, that both night, and day, they fet there, to serve all their necessities, which hardly we should have credited, had we only found it written. Wherefore, let it not seem strange, or incredible to any, that which, we have here tofore recited: for this element of water is very puissant, and marvelous, whose force, and hidden qualities, are not to all men, so familiar, and well known. As concerning the sea also, it is reported to be in Winter, more warm than in the Summer, as again more salt in Autumn then in other times any. Most true it is also, that in some parts of the sea, to weet, in those that be farrest of, from the land, no snow falleth, at any time, what so ever. Of all these things, sundry have given sundry good reasons, of which, the greater part, attribute it, to th'only propriety, or quality of the soil, mines, stones, trees, and metals, where fountains have their springs, where rivers, and lakes run. For better proof whereof, that it so is in deed, by daily experience we well are instructed, that vines, and other fruits, of one, and the same kind; are more better, and more savoury in one soil, then in another, for that some are sweet some sharp and sour, some good and profitable, others again infectious, and noisome. The air also itself, then corrupteth, and is pestilent, when it passeth over any country, less wholesome, or empoisoned. What marvel then is it, if the water that washeth, and penetrateth the earth, stones, metals, herbs, roots and trees, with infinite such, and others the semblable, receive wholesome, or less wholesome proprieties, or natures, be they never so strange, so rare, or incredible, especially aided also by some influences, of the stars, and planets.   

Of divers strange things, which happened at the birth and death of our saviour Christ, recited by sundry famous, and learned historians, besides these that are recorded by the Evangelists in the scriptures. Chap. 16.  
ALthough these things, written by the Evangelists, which happened at the birth, and death of our saviour, strange in deed, and very miraculous are of all others most certain, and worthy of credit: yet it seemeth to me no thing, or very little from the purpose, if we remember here some other things, perhaps not less marvelous, fine, and considered of, even of those that have written them. Paulus Orosius, and Eutropius writing of Octavian, with whom also accordeth Eusebius, saying: that at the birth of our saviour Christ, into this world, there happened to break up, even at that instant, a certain spring that ran with oil, by the space of one day, in an Inn, or common Tavern, in the city of Rome. And it seemeth that this spring, no thing else signified, but the coming of Christ, to weet, of the anointed, by whom, and in whom, all christians are. The public Inn, into which all men indifferently, and without respect are received, and lodged, signifieth our true mother, the holy and true Church, the great Inn, or common lodging, for all faithful Christians: out of which should pass, and proceed incessantly, all manner of people virtuous, and loving God. Eutropius to this also adioigneth, that as well in sundry places about Rome, as in Rome itself, even in the full, plain, and clear day, was seen a circle, which perfectly compassed the Sun round about, no less bright, or clear, than the Sun itself, giving also as much light or rather more than it. Paulus Orosius in like sort reporteth, that even at the same time, the Senate, and people of Rome together, offered to Octavian Augustus, the title of chief prince, or sovereign lord, and siegnior which he refused in any wise to accept, prognosticating (less thinking there on) that an other more greater, and more puissant than he was borne, to whom only, and alone, this title appertained. Commestor in his history semblably affirmeth, that the Temple, dedicated by the romans, to the goddess Peace, than fell, and sundered on every side, or quarter: and farther saith, that at the first erection of this temple; the inhabitants consulted with the Oracle of Apollo, to know how long it should continued, and stand, which answered, until a virgin should bear a child: which they esteemed to be a thing impossible, and that therefore, their Church should stand eternally: how be it, at the delivery of the virgin, the mother of our redeemer, and prince of heaven, it fell down, and suered, each part from other. Whence also Lucas of Tuy, in the Chronicles of Spain writeth, that he some times found in the ancient Annaleis, or records of that country (having by conference, and computation found out the time) that in the very same night, that our Saviour was borne, there appeared in Spain precisely at midnight, a certain cloud that in such sort gave light to the country, as if it had then been, the middle of the day, or noon tide. I also remember that S. Hierome reporteth, that at the same time, when the virgin fled into Egipte, with her son all the Idols, and Images of their gods there, fell down, and defaced themselves, upon their altars, and other places, and that the Oracles, that these gods, or better to say, these devils, to deceive the people, gave forth then at times, than ceaste, never after giving them any answer, what so ever. This miracle alleged in this sort by saint Hierome, seemeth also to be approved by that famous, and most excellent, though a Panime, plutarch, who without any credit that he gave to these things, as also that he knew not, or how or why they chanced, hath written never the less, a particular treatise of the defect, or end of these Oracles: for even then in his time, which was shortly after the passion of Christ, men perceived that these Oracles began to faint, and fail: neither allegaeth he, for it in his treatise, any other reason, but that there should be dead, as he supposed, some spirits, which he spoke, as a man void, or less skilled in the faith, for that he understood not, that the devils, or spirits, were immortal. Notwithstanding, strange is it, and worthy of consideration, to see how evidently the devil showed himself, to be conquered, and subdued, and that after the death of our saviour, he so remained discomforted, that he never again was able, to frame in any such sort, an answer: and that the Gentiles also, not able, in deed to yield any cause, or reason why, had some feeling of this default, and surceassing from his function. By mean whereof plutarch took on him to writ this treatise, in which among others, in effect he hath these words (of which Eusebius maketh mention, writing to Theodorus, as of a most notable, and marvelous matter) I remember that I have heard say, saith he, of Emilian the orator, a man prudente and wise, and well known to many of you, that his father, on a time coming, by the sea towards Italy, and passing on a night, by a certain Isle called Paraxis, even when all in the Ship were then still, and quiet, they heard a great, and dreadful voice, which from the Isle called to them, Ataman, Ataman, (such was the pilots name of the ship, an Egyptian borne) & although this voice were once, and again understood by Ataman, yet was he not so hardy, to frame to it an annswere, until the third time, when he said who is there? what is it that calleth me? what wouldst thou have? To whom this voice again, more louder than before, said: Ataman, my will is, that when thou passest by the gulf, which hath to name Laguna, that thou there remember 
Laguna.  to cry out, and certify the said gulf, that the great God Pan is dead. Which understood, all those that were in the ship, feared, counselling the said pilot, to leave undone his charge, neither any thing to arrest, or stay at the gulf, especially if the wind would serve them to pass further: but approaching nigh the place, of which this voice, admonished him, the ship arrested, and the sea waxed calm, not having wind to pass presently any farther: by means whereof, they generally concluded, that Atman should there do his legation, or imbacie, which the better to do, he mounteth up into the poop, or hinder part of the ship, where he crieth as loud, as he could possible, saying: I will that ye know, that the great God Pan is dead: which word, as soon as he ones had uttered: they heard incontinently, such terrible lamentations, and cries, howling and complaining, above that may be said: in such sort that the sea itself resounded these complaints, which continued most dolorous, and lamentable a great while: by means whereof the Mariners, though marvelously afraid, having the wind good again, followed their course, & arriving at Rome, made rehearsal of this their, adventure. Whereof the Emperor Tiberius advertised, and desirous to be certified of the truth, and none other, found to conclude, as is above rehearsed. Whence it is evident, that the devils every where sorrowed the nativity of our Saviour, and redeemer Christ, for that he was only their ruin, and destruction. For by just, and true supputation of time, we find that this happened, at the time of his Passion, or perhaps, some thing before, than I mean, when he banished, and exiled them, out of the world. It is to be presupposed, that this great God Pan (according to the imitation of Pan, the God of shepherds) which they said was dead, was some captain, and master devil, which at that time lost his Empire, as did also the others. Besides all these josephus writeth, that at the same time was heard in the temple of Jerusalem, a voice (though in deed there was no living creature with in) which lamentably cried, and said thus, let us go hence, and leave this country in haste, as who would say, they truly knew, that the time of their pain, and persecution was at hand, and that it drew on fast, even by the death of him, that gave life unto others. In the Gospel of the Nazarites it is read, that in the day of his Passion, that sumptuous gate of their Temple, which they never left for any cost, to adorn, and beautify, fell down to the ground, and was utterly defaced. Consider now in that day, what strange, and marvelous things happened, though the Evangelists have passed them, as things less worthy memory. The eclipce also of the Sun, which continued three hours, the full space in deed, that Christ was on the cross, was not natural, as are the others, which by th'only conjunction of the Sun and Moon chance us, but was miraculous, and contrary to the course, and order of nature. Such therefore as less know how the Sun is eclipsed, must understand, that it only happeneth, by conjunction of the above said bodies, the Move passing, or going betwixt the Sun, and the earth: never the less, this eclipse happened, in th'opposition of these planets, the Moon then full, and hundred and eighty degrees, distant from the sun, in the under hemisphere, then at the city of Jerusalem: for proof whereof, besides the testimonies of infinite good writers, the scriptures themselves, record it manifestly: for certain it is, that the lamb was never Sacrificed, but in the xiiij of the Moon, which Lamb was eaten by Christ, and his disciples, but one day only before his death, as is commanded in the twelve of Exodus, in Leviticus also the twenty-three. And the next day following, which was the day of unleavened bread, Christ the Lamb unspotted, was unkindly crucified, the Moon then of necessity in her full, and opposite to the Sun, which then could no more eclipse the Sun, than any other Planete. It than was to conclude miraculous, and contrary to the order of nature, done only by the onmipotente, and sole power of GOD, which deprived the Sun of light, for that three hours space. By occasion whereof, that worthy parsonage Denis Areopagita, being at the time present at Athens, and beholding in this sort, the Sun to be obscured, and knowing on the other side, as a learned Astrologian, that this eclipse was contrary to the order of native, said openly with a loud voice, to be heard of all men: either the frame of the world shall be dissolved, either the God of nature presently suffereth. For which cause, as one reporteth, the sages of Athens strangely disturbed, did to be built incontinently, an altar, to the God unknown, whether afterward saint Paul arriving, learned them, who was that God unknown, and that he was Jesus Christ, God and man, our redeemer, which then, and at that time, suffered for our salvation: by means whereof, he converted, great numbers to the faith. Some never the less have doubted, whether this defect were general, and universal throughout the world, grounding here on, though the Evangelist saith, that it was sin upon the whole face of the earth, that, that was only, but a phrace, or manner of speech, as much to say as in all the country there about, of which opinion was that learned doctor Origen: but what? We see that in Grece, yea, in Athens itself, this defect of the Sun was perceived of all men, which leadeth me to suppose, that it was general, to be seen, and considered through out our whole hemisphere, in what place, or where so ever the Sun that time appeared. Which I therefore say, for that in all the other hemisphere, where it then was night, no man could see any thing, not she we then of the Sun at all there, for at one time he only lighteth the half world, the other he obscureth with his own proper shadow. How be it, the Moon then being in her full, not having any other light, then that, which she taketh or borroweth of the Sun, and yet then being in the hemisphere, which is under us, become also to be vehemently eclipsed, and darkened, by th'only want of the light, and she we of the Sun. By which means, an universal shadow, covered the whole earth, the Moon, and stars, not able to give other light, then that which themselves receive of the Sun.   

Of many places alleged by sundry good authors, making mention of Christ, and of his life. Chap. 17.  
eftsoons have I hard the question demanded, of many a curious, and learned Clerk, whence it was, or whence it proceeded, that the Gentiles, and paynims, so seldom remembered any thing of our saviour Christ in all their writings, of his life, and miracles so many in number, published and made common to the world by his disciples, for as much as the said Painimes and Gentiles have well remembered sundry other things, which were done, and chanced even in the same time, in many respects of less weight or importance. Where unto I answer, that it less true were to affirm, that these ancient historians have here of written nothing, for in infinite places have they discoursed of these things, of which some few notes I have briefly here gathered, for their only contentation, that never were acquainted with these foresaid historiogriphers. In the second place also we must consider, that the faith and law of grace given us by Christ, begun by himself first, and by his disciples, published, and received of certain that determined to live and die therein: other some rebellious, and obstinate, so deep drowned in sin, that they made no scruple to refuse it, but to the utterest of their might pursued, and persecuted it. Besides these the third sort were neuters, that healed the mean, to whom, though this religion seemed just and virtuous, yet as well for fear of persecution, and tyranny, as also for some other worldly considerations, this virtuous profession was also of them neglected. The world then standing this in three opinions divided, those that professed Christ did things strange and miraculous, of whom many bear true, and assured witness, of which number are Dionysius Areopagita, Tertulian, Lactantius Firmianus, Eusebius, Paulus Orosius, with many others, which long were here to recount, or remember. These others accursed that persecuted this Church, as a thing strange, abhorring from their law endeavoured what in them was, utterly to abandon it, covering christ his miracles, his life, & his doctrine, for which cause they refused to writ of him at all, or at lest they that in any sort, wrote any thing of him, did it to the intent to stain and obscure his glory, of which predicament were these predestinate to damnation, Porphyrius, julianus, Vincentius, Celsus, Africanus, Lucianus, with others many, the members of Satan: against whom most learnedly hath written S. Cyprian, Origen, Augustine, and others. The others that for fear, or for consideration of gain, have left to love Christ, to learn, and know his Gospel, for the same causes have also, in their kookes left to remember of him: or if at least any of them, have any thing spoken of him, the same hath been freaghted with scoffs, and lies passing him over, in as few as was possible. Yet nevertheless, even as he, that would cover a verity, under the shadow of disguised treatcheries, it eftsoons falleth out, by the privy propriety, and secret nature of the verity, that he that feignest would cover it, so evil favouredly disguiseth, and fardleth the matter, that in the end it ill savoureth, the truth, maugre his beard, breaking out most plain and evident. Even so hath it happened, to both these sorts, of these afore remembered people: which although they toiled to discredit, and to stain with ignominy, the miracles wrought by our saviour, and his professed doctrine, yet came it so to pass, that as often times as they, thereof wrote any thing, some thing they uttered, in such sort as was evident, both their despiteful malice, and purity of that doctrine. Here cold I remember many things, written by the Sybilles', but for as much as that, that they wrote, proceeded not of theimselues, but from that spirit of prophecy, which God had lente or granted them, though they were in deed nothing better than infidels, I will leave of them to speak any thing, hasting to thothers. Our first then and most evident testimony, though also with the same not least common, is, and shallbe of the most and greatest enemies of christianity, among others of josephus a jew both by consanguinity, 
josephus in the second book of his antiquities.  and nation, as by his life also, and profession: his words are these: In this time lived jesus a wise and learned man if it be lafull to term him a man, for that assuredly he did things strange, and mearuailous, a master and teacher of those that loved him, and sought the truth, he joined unto him great numbers, as well of jews, as Gentiles, this man was christ. And although he afterwards were accused by men of great authority, fautors I mean, and favourers of our religion, done to death also, and by the same crucified, he not withstanding was never yet forsaken of those that before, had willingly followed him, wherefore the third day again after his death, he appeared to them alive, according as the Prophets by divine inspiration had before spoken and prophesied of him. And even in this our time, the doctrine, and name of Christians dwelleth yet, and ever shall do unto the end in the world. These than are the words of josephus, which wrote of the ruin, and destruction of Jerusalem, a witness present in person, at that subversion, which chanced full forty years after the passion of our redeemer. Pilate in like sort which gave sentence of death against him, witnesseth in manner semblable of his marvelous miracles, of which by his letters he certified the Emperor Tiberius, by means whereof he consulted with the Senate, to know whether they would admit jesus Christ, to be reverenced, and adored for God, and although they would, in no wise there unto accord, yet Tiberius of himself streatly inhibited, that no man should be so hardy, to touch, or grieve a Christian. As concerning the yearthquake, and darkening of the Sun, continuing the full time that Christ was on the Cross, we have also good testimonies and assured of ethnics. Flegon a Greek historiogripher, borne in Asia, of whom Swydas especially remembreth, reporteth for a thing almost incredible, that in the forth year, of the two hundred and tenth olympiad, which by just account was in the eightinth year of the reign of Tiberius, at which time our saviour suffered, there was a great Eclipse of the Sun, such as erst had never been seen, or written of, continuing from the sixth hour, even unto the ninth, and farther during the time of this defect of the Sun, such and so inspeakable, were the yearthequakes in Asia, and Bithynia, that infinite houses fell down to the ground. It appeareth farther, that besides this Flégon that in the same time lived, Pliny also felt it, and discoursed on the said matter, for saith he in the time of Themperor Tiberius, greater earth quakes were then seen, then ever had been before, by means of which were subverted twelve famous cities in Asia, with infinite and innumerable other houses, and buildings: in such sort that the historiogriphers Gentiles, though less wéeting the cause, left not yet to writ the miracles of Christ. The other miracle of the veal of the Temple that sundered, josephus in like sort recordeth it faithfully. The cruel murder done by Herode, upon the harmless innocentes, is written, of on other jew, which height Phylon, an historian of great authority, in his abridgement of time, where he thus much reporteth, that Herode did to be murdered certain young infants, and with them also his own natural son, for that he heard say that Christ, the king promised to the jews, was borne and this man lived in the time of Herode the Tetrarche, as himself writeth. This history of the innocentes, is of Macrobius also, more fully remembered, a man excellently learned and of great antiquity, who in rehearsal of certain pleasant, and merry conceits of the Emperor Octavian (about the time of the birth, or nativity of our saviour) which said, being advertised of the cruelty of Herode, as well towards his own son, as also the others, that he rather would be a Hog in the house of Herode, than his son, which he said for that the jews did never eat any swine's flesh, which pretty jest is repeated by Dion in the life of the said Emperor, so that in fine there were many miracles, written as well by jews, as by Gentiles less supposing to have witnessed them, to have been done by Christ, besides infinite the others reported by Christians. What farther shall I writ of the ancient Emperors, and what they thought of our faith, as what discourtisies they also practised, against the true professors of Christ, and his truth? The first good Bishop or servant of Christ S. Peter, S. Paul also a faithful minister, were done to death at the commandment of the Emperoar Nero, thirtiesix years after the death of our redeemer, at which time was the great persecution of the Church, of which the Gentiles left not to make mention, as among others many, these two especially, Cornelius Tacitus, and Suetonius Tranquillus, which lived at that time, both famous, and honourable. Suetonius in the life of Nero, speaking of certain his own ordinances, faith that he tormented, and afflicted with sundry and grievous puishmentes, a certain kind of people which called theimselues Christians, following a new faith or religion. And Cornelius T. writing of the said Nero, affirmeth, that he chastised and pursued with terrible torments, a sort of people, named commonly Christians, the author of which name saith he, was Christ of Jerusalem, the very same, which Pilate governor of ludea, did openly to be crucified, by whose death his doctrine grew more and more, and increased. But consider we also what some other Gentiles have written, of honour, and authority like unto the others. Pliny the younger, in one of his Epistles, demandeth of the Emperor Traian whose Lieutenant he was in Asia, how he would that he should punish the Christians, that were aceused, and brought before him: and the better to inform his Lord of what soever he found against them, he among other things many reporteth, that these Christians rise ordinarily, at certain hours of the night, assembling, and meeting together, singing Hymns, and Songs of praise unto jesus Christ, whom they honoured for their God and Messiah, and besides this meeting in congregations together, they made also vows not to do annoy, or damage to any, not robbing or taking from any man what so ever, that they would not commit adultery, that they never would false their faith, or promise, not to deny, what soever had been lent them, or committed to their keeping. And farther the said Pliny writeth, that they always did feed, or eat together, not holding or possessing any thing, as proper or private. By these are well known, what were even then, the exercises of the christians, as also for what cause the world pursued them. Those things were recorded thus by an idolatrous infidel, sixty years fully after the Passion of our Lord and saviour. Unto which letters the Emperor answered, for as much as they were accused of no kind of riot, or wrong, he should in no wise afflict, or chastise them; ●e yet make any inquisition, what so ever against them: not withstanding, when they should yet be accused before him, that he then did his pain, to withdraw them from that Religion: but if they in no wise would forego, or leave it, that he should not for all that, do them any kind of violence. How be it, true it is, that this said Emperor Traian, before this as an infidel, and deceived by the guile, and fraud of the accusers, punished both, and persecuted, the poor harmlis christians. After succided in th'empire his Nephew Adrian, of whom Aelius Lampridius, an historiogripher, void of faith, and idolatrus, writeth that he began first to honour the christians, permitting them to live after their loore, and order, and that himself also, with the people reverenced Christ, building, and granting them Temples, for their behoof, but afterwards altering his good mind and zeal towards them, began cruelly again, and odiously to persecute them, abused by the masters of his false ceremonies, as by the Bishops also of his false gods, persuading with him, that if he any way favoured the Christians, that all the world would shortly be converted to that law, whence a general rheum would follow to their gods and religion, all which is reported by Petrus Crinitus. It is written in the life of Saturninus, that from Severinus the Consul, a letter was written to the said Adrian the'mperor, wherein he certified him, that in Egypt were sundry christians, among which some called theimselues Bishops, of which all, no one was found at any time idle, but busied still every one about some exercise, or other, and that there was none, not not the blind, nor the gouty, but took some kind of pain, and lived by their labour, which all honoured one only god, which also was honoured for God of the jews. We read also in the histories of that time, that this Emperor, this beginning, to abuse the Christians, by the instigation, as is said, of his high priests, and bishops, there was a certain his Ambassador Serenus Eramyus; an Ethnic borne, as also was he, that wrote to him, advertising him that it was no little cruelty, to condescend in such sort, to the miserable ruin, and oppression of the Christians, being of nothing else accused, but of the observation only of their faith and religion, in no other respect or blame worthy, or culpable. By means of which letter, the Emperor, inhibited Minutus Fondanus then Proconsul in Asia, that he in no wise condemned any Christian what so ever, not being convicted of any other crime, but of that only, of their faith, and profession.   

That men borne of base condition, should not leave, by all means possible, to attempt to reach, and aspire unto honour, with certain examples serving to that purpose. Chap. 18.  
Generally we see, that men descending of a noble house, or family, become also in time berry valiant, and honourable, imitating the noblesse of their birth, and virtue, of their ●…ncestours: how be it, for that there is no law, nor no rule so certain, which suffereth o● admitteth not some kind of exception, this also may be said, to fail with the others: for some times the father wise, learned, advised, and honest, hath a son idle, abject, less wise and unprofitable: and yet again admit that this rule were more certain, more intallible, and more assured, then in deed it is, yet should not they, that descend of poor, and mean parentage, leave to attempt, by incessuante pain, and industry, to aspire to the seat, of virtue, and honour: for that these families, that this day are reputed for ancient, and noble, haus taken their beginning, and spring of virtue, nobling their posterity, and successors with honour. Wherefore, the better to animate men, to asspire to great matters, I will remember the examples of some in particular, issuing out of mean, and simple parentage, which in the endo, excolled in honour, and virtue. And in the first place, Viriat a Portugal, so much renowned among the historiens, especially Romans', on whom he eftsoons did cruel, and bloody revenge. This man was the son of a poor Shepherd, and in his youth a●ded his father in his charge: but having his heart inclined to matters more high, and of greater importance, left to keep Sheep, and other tamed beasts, following more busily the chase of the wild, and savage, where in he excelled in courage all others. After this the romans, invading the Spaniards, he gathered, and assembled certain his companions, by whose help he skirmishte, at times, with the enemy, at times also again, for practise with his friends, where he so valiant was, so noble, and courageous, that in few days he had gathered an army sufficient, with which being entered the field, he gave battle to the romans, in defence of that country: which wars, or rather enmity continued fowertene years, during which time, he obtained against them, sundry great, and honourable victories. By means whereof, he grew in honour, and authority, dread, and faired for his prows continually of his enemy: but in fine, unkindly by treason was slain, to the great discomfort, and sorrow of all his army, by which he was (as duty would) most pompously buried. Arsaces' king of the Parthians, was of such base, and simple parentage, that no man could speak of, or knew any of pis parents. Who, after he had withdrawn himself, from the subjection, and obedience of Alexander, he ordained the first kingdom, that ever was among the Parthians, a people, no less renowned, then dread, in deed, of the romans. By means of whose only passing prows, and valiancy, all other kings his successors, for the sole memory, and reverence of his name, although they never were crowned, by inheritance or succession, were called Arsacides, as the Roman Emperors, took also the name of Caesar, for the love of great Caesar Octavian Augustus. That excellent captain Agathocles, which for his surpassing wisdom, and mandhoode, was created king of Sicilia, and maintained cruel battle, against the people of Carthage, was notwithstanding, of so mean a family, that as I remember, his father was a Potter, whence he being advanced, to the honour of a king, did never the less, as often times as he banqueted, his table to be furnished, with vessels, as well of clay, as also of gold, or silver, to the intent he still might have in mind; and remember, the place of his beginning, his father's house, and family. The example also of Ptolemy, well serveth to this purpose, being one of the most worthiest captains of Alexander, after whose death, he become king of Egypt, and of Syria, such, and so virtuous, that his successors there would after him be called all Ptolemy's. This Ptolemy was the son of a gentleman, that hight 
Lac. the father of Ptolemy.  Lac, which never had better office than that, of common horse man, in the camp of Alexander. Iphicrates an Athenian, was in Martial affairs, very well skilled, he vanquished the Lacedæmonians, in plain, and open battle and valiantly withstood, the impetúositie of Epaminondas, a captain Theban, both renowned, and honourable. Thesame he was whom Artaxerxes king of Persia, assigned captain general, over all his whole army, when he had to do, or dealt with the Egyptians. Yet know we never the less (as is evidently written of him) that he was the ●●●nne, of none other, then of a poor Cobbler. I had all most past over Eumenes, one of the most worthiest captains of Alexander, as well for his valiauntie, as learning, and good counsel: whose life, and famous gests, are both recorded of plutarch, and Paulus Emilius, who concerning wealth and abundance of riches, though he were less gracious, in the ●ight of Fortune, yet was he in the policies of war, second to man, reno●…ed, and honourable, by his own only de●…es, by no man advanced, but by his only pain, and travail, being the son of a poor man, and as some dame, a Carter. Emongall other signories, and honours in the world, none was there ever, so great, and so puissant, as was that, some times the Empire of Rome, which was ordered continually, by such excellent person ages so ripe in virtue, so absolute, and perfects, and yet for all that, sundry have there attained even unto the highest, and sovereign degree of government, descending of very simple, and of base parentage. Elius Part●…x Emperor of Rome, was the son of a certain artificer, his grandfather a libertine (which is to say, such as was some times a bond 
What a Libertaine 〈…〉  man, but was again afterward, for some just cause infraunchiste) that notwithstanding, for his virtue, and honesty, was assigned by the romans, their sovereign, and Emperor, and afterward to give example, to others of low condition, he caused the Shop, to be done about with Marble, curiously cut, where his father before him, wrought, to get his living. Neither asspired this Elius, issued of base parentage, unto the Empire only: for Diocletian, that so much adorned Rome, with his magnifical, and triumphaunte victories, was the son of none other, than a common Scribe, or Notary, some faith that his father was a book binder, and himself a bond man borne. Valentinian was also crowned Emperor, but was the son, notwithstanding of a Roper. The Emperor Probus, had to father a gardener. The renowned Aurelius, whom every age honoureth, issued out of so obseure a family, that the historiegriphers, less agree among themselves, of his spring, and beginning. Maximinus also was the son of a Smithe, or as others some will, a Carter. Marcus julius Lucinus, as also Bonosus, by their prudent policy, governed the said Empire, of which, the first was an husband man's son of Dacia, the other the son of a poor, and stipendary school master. Of this sort was there many other Emperors in Rome, whom, all for brevities sake, I leave to remember, as Mauricius justinus, predecessor to justinian. Gale●…s also, in the beginning a Shepherd. From this haute, and supreme dignity, let us descend to the ●…a of Rome, unto which asspired men, of like condition with the others. As Pope John the two and twentieth, which was the son of a Shoemaker, a French man borne▪ notwithstanding for his learning, and wisdom, elected bishop, which increased their rents, and patrimony busily. Pope Nicholas the fift, having the name, tofore of Th●mas, was the son of a poor P●…. P●p●▪ S●… ●…he fourth, first called Frances, by profession a friar, had to father a poor sea man, or mariner. I could in this place remember many others, whom all of purpose, I leave to name for that such offices, are less due to nobility of blood, but rather to the learned, & virtues what so ever. Whereof Christ himself hath left us good example: for the first that ever sat in that chair, whom also Christ himself there placed, was that good, and true pastor S. Peter, which before laboured the seas for his living, a Fisher, whom from thence Christ elected, to be a fisher of men. Hence descending again unto kings, and Princes, the romans to them chose Tarqvinius Priscus for their king, the son of a stranger, and merchant of Corinthe, and that which more was, banished out of his country, who never the less, augmented the confines of his king doom, the number as well of Senators, as also them of the order of knighthood: he appointed new estates, both for their service, and ceremonies to the gods, so that the people nothing at all repented them, to have chosen them a stranger, for their king and sovereign. Servius Tullius lived also long time king of Rome, he obtained great victories, and triumphed three times, reputed notwithstanding, to be the son of a poor bond woman, whence he continually held the name of Servius. The kings of Lombardy, if they were not so ancient, as the others of Rome, yet were they in respect, no less famous, than they: The third of which having to name Lamusius, was the son of a beggarly, and common strumpette, which also being delivered at the same time, of two other children, as a most wretched, and beastly woman, threw them into a deep, and stinking ditch, in which also was some kind of water: by hap king Agelmonde passing that way, found this child almost drowned in the water, and moving him soughtly, with the end of his lance (which he at that time had present there in hand) to the end he more perfectly might feel what it was, but this child even then newly borne, feeling itself touched, taketh hold of the lance, with one of his hands, not letting it to slip, or slide from him again, which thing the prince considering, all amazed at the strange force, of this young, little creature, caused it to be taken thence, and carefully to be fostered, and for that the place where he found it, was called Lama, he did him thence to be named Lamusius: which afterwards was such a one, and so favoured of Fortune, that in the end, he was crowned king of the Lombard's, who lived there in honour, and his succession after him, even until the time of the unfortunate king Albovine, when all came to ruin, subversion, and destruction. another matter like strange to this, happened in Bohemia, where as one Primislas the son of a Plough man, was then chosen king, when he most busily, was labouring the soil in the field. For at that time the Bohemians, not knowing whom they might choose for their king, did to pass out a horse unbridled into the fields, letting him to go, whether it best liked him, having all determined, with most assured purpose, to make him their king, before whom this horse arrested, so came it them to pass, that the horse first stayed him before this Primislas, busied then in turning the glebe, a simple Carter: so being forthwith confirmed (as is before) their sovereign, he ordered himself, and his kingdom very wisely. He ordained many good and profitable laws, he compassed the city of prague with walls, besides many other things, meriting perpetual laud, and commendation. The great Tamburlaine also, whose famous exploits, are of part above remembered, was at the first a Shepherd, as we before rehearsed. The valiant, and virtuous captain, father of Frances Sforca, whose succession and posterity, even until this our time, have been Dukes continually of Milan, was borne in a bad village, called Cotignoll, the son of a poor, and needy work man: but he naturally inclined to Martial affairs, of a valiant heart, & very courageous, left that his father's simple vocation, following a troup of soldiers, which passed through the country, and in th'end by continuance, and skilful practice, proved a most famous, and renowned captain. C. Marius a Consul Roman, issued of simple parentage, borne in the village Arpinum, was never the less such, and so 
Arpinum.  politic a captain, that all the world yet speaketh this day of his valiancy: he seven times was chosen Consul in Rome, during which time, he obtained such, and so great victories, that he also twice (to his perpetual honour, and commendation) triumphed. M. T. Cicero, the father, and prince of Latin eloquency, well skilled also in every the Sciences, was Consul in Rome, and Proconsul in Asia, and yet was he also borne in a simple cottage, in Arpinum, by birth, and parentage a very mean, and abject Roman. Ventidius also the son of a most simple, and abject parsonage, was some times, by profession a Muletour: but leaving that vocation, followed the wars of Caesar, by whose favour he obtained, through his prows, and virtue, that he shortly was appointed captain of a band, and after that again under him, general of the whole army, and from thence was called to the honour of a bishop, and in fine, from thence mounted, to the estate of a Consul: who waging battle with the Parthians, triumphantly conquered them, and was the first that ever apparently, and thoroughly quailed their courages. It should also be long, in this place to remember, all those that issuing from obscure race, or parentage, have notwithstanding, by their excellency in learning, been advanced to great estimation, and honour. Virgil was the son of none other, than a Potter, yet aspired he to be called, the best Poet among the Latins. Horace in mine opinion, excelled in poetry, no Prince of birth, but much like unto the others. Eustatius, and Pampinus, were the sons of two, that had been bondinen, but both manumitted. Theophrastus' the Philosopher, had to father a bad Tailor, or Bodger. Menedemus also, to whom for his singular learning, the Athenians erected a sumptuous Image, was the son of a poor artificer. Besides these we read of infinite others, whom all I pass, as a thing most assured, and evident. By these examples, it now thus lieth manifest, that of what estate so ever, or condition man be borne, he may if he will, attain some time to honour, so that he walk still, in the path of virtue, which only is acquired by incessaunte pain, and diligency, with a final consideration of heaven, our wished city, for who so other wise doth, if he in deed might possibly, conquer the whole, the wide, and the waste world, what advantage should he have, for the same, to lose the soul, after this life transitory?   

Of the opinion that the old romans, and other ancient countries had of fortune, and how they placed her in the number of their Gods: in what form or figure they also depainted her: and finally that there is no fortune at all among the Christians, attributing the cause of all things unto God. Chap. 19  
FOR as much as we have some thing written of the instability of the world, and that by sundry examples, of sundry worthy, and famous personages (that which every of them attributed falsely unto fortune) reason would now that we also in this place speak some what, of that, which the Gentiles, and Heathens have imagined of this vanity, in fine concluding, as is our promise with the Christians. Among others many, and shameful errors, which the old sages, and wise philosophers, have built upon man's only, and sole observation, not feeling at all of that true, and heavenly wisdom, this was the chief and principal occasion, for that not understanding the causes, whence these effects proceeded, as also not why they were, or who ordained them, sundry of them termed them the very works of fortune, as all soodden adventures, things I mean some times less desired, or thought on: neither have they yet stayed there, but fortune not being any other thing, than a plain imagination, void as well of all quantity, as of substance or quality, have deemed her to be some celestial or divine nature, some mistress of much might, and particular Goddess, unto whom they attributed what so chanced in man's life, were it, without respect, in things prosperous or adversity. They supposed her to govern, or to hold in hand the bridle, of what so happened to us either fortunate, or contrary, and so is this folly now grown to this point, that Virgil feareth not 
Virgil in the eight of his Eneid.  to name her, omnipotent, and almighty: and Cicero in his offices blustreth out in this sort. Who is he that feeleth not the arm of fortune to be right strong, and mighty, of equal power, and force, both in good and evil: for if she vouchsafe to assist us, with her prosperous wind, then mount we on high to the top of our desires: but if it contrary, then live we afflicted in miserable extremity. Sallust a learned, and eloquent historiogripher, saith that fortune is mistress and lady over all things. With them also accordeth Juvenal in these words: if fortune will, of a simple advocate, thou shalt be made a Consul: if the same again, so please, from the estate of a Consul, thou shalt fall down to that, of a poor and needy advocate, in such sort that they attributed all puissance unto fortune. And yet marvelous is it to see, how that being of this opinion, they so commonly and unfrendly blasphemed still against her, terming her by names, and Epithitons, unkind exiling far from all reverence, far also from all honour. Pliny saith, that through out the whole world, in all places, and at all hours, and by all men of what degree so ever, only fortune, & she alone is called on, she is desired, she is accused, she is pursued with enmity, and malice, on her alone all men think, she only is praised, she only is blamed, she only is charged with injuries and reproaches, she only is honoured, she only esteemed, she only is reputed for uncertain, and mutable, of many she is accounted blind, and instable, inconstant, fickle still changing, and variable, and commonly to the less worthy very large & favourable. The causes to her we attribute, of our expenses, and recepts, and in all our accounts, or like business to be done, she holdeth still the one side, and the other of our book: in such sort that we be of condition so servile, that this monster of us, is adored for a God, and so by this mean would God to be uncertain. Hitherto Pliny. Our ancestors framed to her sundry kinds of Images I mean of strange and divers figures, according to the diversity of effects, that they imagined to be in her. When they would attribute to her the cause of any victory, they depainted her in valiant shape, fierce, stout, and manly, having a temple particularly dedicated unto mighty fortune, which (as supposeth Livy) was built by the Consul Camillus, with the pray, and spoils he got at the overthrow of the Hetruscians: where in prosis of time afterwards, it also was ordained, that her feast should there be celebrated, the five and twentieth continually of june, of part for that Hasdrubal was on that day vanquished by the romans, as also the same day Massinissa their friend conquered in like sort king Syphax of Numidia. Besides this an other Temple was dedicated to her by the romans, two little miles, or there about from Rome, where she was purtraied in shape like a woman, for that in that same place Coriolanus coming in arms against his country, was won by the humble suit, and entreaty of his mother, so that in fine he returned, and pardoned the City, which of purpose he came to sack, to burn, and to destroy. And in this shape of a woman, purtraied there in an Image, some accursed spirit or devil, by guile straight entered, which often times thence spoke, reputed for an oracle. The third temple also had they dedicated to ill fortune: at which time they so blinded were in that their fond devotion; that they supposed all things should prosperously succeed with him, that busily adored, or reverenced this fortune, but unto him that sacrificed not, ne appeased her by offerings, all things should go amiss, where he so them attempted. And of all these abuses the devil himself was author, to that intent only they should repose their whole hope, and affiance still in him: as happened some times, for proof thereof to Galba, who for that he had taken away, a collar of Gold, from this Image of Fortune, to dedicated the same, or offer it to Venus, as is reported in sundry good histories, fortune the said night immediately then following, appeared unto him, with dreadful words, minasing, whereof he also died or many days expired. The vanity of this people was such then, and so authorized, that they yet had also an other Image of fortune, seemly bearded, imagining all those, that had her in especial adoration, should have very fair beards, well coloured, and well grown: but those that disdained her, or none at all, or the contrary. All these things did they for diversity of respects, and considerations in her: and withal to signify her omnipotency, or power, which they deemed all she had, purtraiing her in sundry, and divers sorts a goddess. The philosopher Cebes, depainted her in the shape, or figure of a woman, but as furious with all, blind and with out feeling, mounted on a round stone, denoting her instability. Vupal was the first in Gréece, that framed any shape or purtraite, of fortune, in the town of Smirna; which he depainted with a veal upon her head, having in her hand a horn of abundance. The Scythians purtraied her a woman without feet, having not withstanding both hands, and wings. Others some fashioned her, with the stern of a ship in one hand, as also with the foresaid horn of abundance in the other: thence inferring that she had dominion over all, disposing all things, throughout the world as was to her royal majesty best seeming. Some others again of fine, and brittle glass, because she was so fickle, with out all hold or stay. Others also depainted her turning of a wheel, on the highest part of which, some presently were placed, some also were climbing, as thoug they would get up, some also falling into ruin, and despair. One also resembleth her, not unaptly to a Comedy, in which some enter at times, with countenance, of kings, and great Personages, and straight again changing their habit, or apparel, put on the faces, or countenances of bondmennes, for that in this life, we have none other surety, to day to live in pomp, to morrow in rank beggary. Socrates' compared her to a common place, or theatre without order, where commonly it happened, the worthiest in deed, to be eftsoons worst placed. Others some again, purtraied her all blind: and to this purpose Apuleus, hath these words in his golden Ass. For just cause did our elders, depaint Fortune blind, for continually she giveth, to the less virtuous, and unhonest, never for his demerits, preferring any person, void of all election, or distinction of men for virtue, advancing the ribald, and the graceless tretcherer, whom if she had eyes to behold, or to consider, she then would fly in haste, from these her accursed darlings. Infinite is the number of authorities, that might be alleged, concerning the names, or titles, that have been of many assigned unto Fortune. Valerius, and Claudian, letted not to call her despiteful, and envious: ovidius in fastis, right mighty and puissant, but in his Epistles, accursed, and despiteful. Juvenal in his Satyrs froward, and perverse. Lucian traitorous, and perjured. Silvius Italicus, false, and subtle. Virgil in one place nameth her omnipotent, and almighty, but in others again inconstaunte, unfaithful, and disloyal. Cicero of whom we also above some thing remembered, who also then accounted her, a Princes most of might, and guide also to them that would, or did live justly, saith that nothing is so contrary to reason, and to constancy, as is the same Fortune. And yet for all this, the vanity of the ancient romans, was such, and so great, that they still adored her, whom they knew to be blind, false, instable, and inconstaunte, dedicating to the same, both sumptuous, and costly Temples, vowing themselves, so busily, to these superstitions, that the emperors themselves, had evermore the Image of Fortune, in their sleeping chambers. But when any of them died, the same was then transported into the chamber of his successor. The first that framed a Temple, to Fortune in Rome, was Servius Tullius, as recordeth Live, the sixth king by order; and just account of the romans: though plutarch in his book of the fortune of the romans, affirm that it was Marcius the fourth king there, which framed as is evident, a Temple to virile Fortune. Servius notwithstanding, gave Fortune all these names, to wit, of valiant Fortune, little Fortune, prosperous Fortune, adverse Fortune, triumphaunte Fortune, with others more, such, to these the like, and semblable, to every of which, he dedicateth a part, a rich, a fair and asumptuous temple. The first of virile or rather valiant Fortune, stood nigh unto Tiber, where all young maidens, that were of age mariagable, came to offer their presents, with all reverence, and devotion: in which Temple they also did of all their apparel, all naked, save their smock, before this Idol of Fortune, discovering their me heames, and each their deformities, if they had any privy imperfection, immagining that this Idol, would assuredly conceal it, and so for them work, by some secret virtue, that those, thaut should marry them, should never at all perceive it, that which ovid reporteth in his Fastis. And as this Empire grew still, to be more great, and puissant, so grew this fond devotion, throughout among the romans, erecting to her Temples, according to the difference, or diversity of her names: and this not only in Rome, or other towns about it, but in every the parts, what so ever, of all Italy. In fine, then must we think, that all these vanities, with many others the semblable, which may in this place be remembered, to this purpose, was a plain illusion, and deception of men, walking in darkness, affiing, and trusting in their own proper wisdom. For what so ever is, dwelling in this world, in heaven I mean, in earth, or else below in hell, they still are, and proceed, from the inscrutable providence, and wisdom of GOD: neither is it Fortune, chance, or adventure, for that all in him have cause of their being, by him they also hold their course, and eke their order. And again, though many of us be found, of so gross a feeling, or understanding, that we either hardly, or not at all perceive, the increase, or success of things, not to be of Fortune, but that what so ever is, or any way multiplieth, the same to issue, and proceed from the principal, first, and chief cause God, maker, creator, and governor of all, which for an assured verity, we must acknowledge, and embrace, that would, or do desire, to be numbered for Christians. Lact. Firmianus letteth not to laugh at, or deride those men, which attribute the adventures of the world, to Fortune. S. Augustine in his retractations, repenteth him of his error, that he following the common phrace, or wonted manner in speech, did attribute the good hap of man, in like sort also to Fortune, highly commending in the said place king David, for that he ascribed every his tribulations, to the inscrutable, and secret judgements of God only. This than must we believe, that what so ever is, or any where hath his being, that the same both is, and proceedeth still from God. Farther also, besides that sundry our elders, had some feeling in this matter. Saluste also saw it, and boldly therefore pronounced, that each man was the first, and principal cause of his fortune, and in his proheme, of his war of jugurthe, saith: that the slothful, and negligent person, complaineth still of Fortune, but without any just cause, or reason. Juvenal more plainly in his tenth Satire affirmeth that where advice is, there Fortune still exileth, though we repute her for a goddess, and lodge her in the heavens. Other Philosophers were there, which though they also affirmed, that Fortune of herself, could in deed do nothing, believed it notwithstanding, that she was an instrument, or aid, to the divine providence, as if God should stand in need of some other, to assist him: which is no less vain, than the opinions above rehearsed, and also others some, that in this place might be remembered, which I all leave, as also to be tedious, only passing in few, there by yet to admonish the ignorant, and simple Christian what so ever, that he forsake his fond, and foolish custom, to grieve, or to mislike at any time with Fortune, when any thing betideth him, contrary to his expectation. For in fine, this must we know, that God disposeth man's affairs alone, to whom, and to none other, in every our necessities, we must appeal, and cry, for his assistant grace and secure.   

That sundry beasts, by some privy natural instinct, have foreknowleage of things to come: as also of many countries, by the only force of little worms, brought to be desolate, and forsaken. Chap. 20.  
NOt only the natural instinct of sundry creatures, brute, and void of reason, might suffice to learn us, the inward proprieties of things infinite, as how, and in what sort, they might please, and profit us, as in the use, or practise of Physic, or otherwise: but also a number of them, birds, and fowls I mean, as well as any other, have some privy feeling, of every the change, and alteration of weather, as when we shall have rain, wind, pleasant times, or tempests, instructing here in man as if he saw it presently. As than we see that Sheep, prognosticate of rain, when most busily they disport, in skipping to and fro. The semblable is perceived most plainly in the bullock, especially when he licketh directly against the hear, lifting his snout a loft into the air, bellowing, and breathing eftsoons on the ground, feeding with the same more busily, then is his wont, or manner. The yeawe when she diggeth the ground with her foot: as also when the goats covet nighest, to sleep together: when also the ants, walk thickest in a rank in greater heaps also, then is their usual manner, running each on other, as troubled, or amazed, these all be marks assured of moisture, rain, and weather. When Lions leave their wonted ranges, and soils, and seek a new to prey in other countries, then be you well assured, of great drieth that year following. Elian recordeth, that the goats of Libya, know certainly, when first the canicular days begin, and by evident demonstrations, both feel, and perceive, when it will in deed, or likely is to rain. When wolves draw in troops towards houses, and villages, and come nigher into the sight of men, then is their common wont, an infallible rule is it, of a tempest shortly following. Fishes also no less strangely prognosticate, and divine, of every these changes, and mutations of times. When the Dolphines leap, very busily in the Sea, discovering them selves, by mounting above the water, then great winds shall follow, especially from that part, whence they seem to come: but contrary, when they trouble the water, beating themselves there in, a more certain sign then that, can none be of fair weather. When the frog crooketh more, and more loud than is her wont, she forelearneth us of rain, and of tempestuous weather. Neither are birds exempted from this privilege, of which as much, or more, may we writ to this purpose, then of all other beasts, of what sort so ever. The fowls of the sea, when they refuse the depth, and hasten to the shore, denote some stormy blast, and sudden change of weather. If the Cranes fly in the air with out any brute, or noise, then promise they a calm: but if they cry, and sly in heaps disordered, then be ye well assured, they promise you the contrary. When the crow flieth from the main land, to the sea, she there by as well prognosticateth, some change of weather, and rain, as also when she plaineth with mournful noise, and cry. If the shriche Owl, howl much, in any storm tempestuous, it denoteth some present change unto the better: but if in a calm she sing, besides her wonted manner, it noteth again, as on the other side, some speedy alteration. plutarch writeth, that when the Crow singeth with a raw, and horse voice, not letting to beat herself busily with her wings, she forelearneth us of wind, and rain in abundance. The same also is evident unto us, by the said bird again, as when the Sun is falling in the point of the West, if he skip, and sing, mounting suddenly into the air, straight falling down again, as if he scarce could fly, beginning then again his play, even as before, threatening as we might say, some blustering storm, or tempest. Great troops again of white birds, ordinarily assemble, and meet in heaps together, immediately before some great change, or alteration of weather. When the Cock, the Capon, with every other kind of Pultrie, beat eftsoons their wings, advance themselves, and sing, as also rejoicing in outward show, and appearance, it is as most suppose, a true presage, or sign of present wind, and weather. When the Lark singeth very early in the morning, when also the Duck doth wash, or bathe herself, beaking, trimming, and ordering her feathers, it evidently denoteth excess of wind, and rain. When the Swallow flieth so nigh unto the water, that a man would think, she still would touch, or strike it, a presage no less sure, of rain, is this then the others. Elian writeth, that the Snite hath full, and perfect feeling, of th'increase aswell, as decrease of the Moon. But I fear I grieve the reader, with these fore past examples: wherefore I now will speak, of certain beasts, which have forced men to leave, and forego, their country, the same all not great, and mighty, but some also small, and foible. And to this purpose Elian recordeth, that in certain parts of Italy, the roots of trees, and herbs, were in such sort by Rats destroyed, that the inhabitants in fine (though they did their pain to kill them) were notwithstanding feign, through penury to forego, and to forsake their country. Marcus Varro reporteth, that there was a great town in Spain, situate, or standing in a sandy soil, which was by Coneys, in such sort undermined, that in th'end it sunk, & came to extreme ruin. Neither only have these things happened, in wide, and open countries, but also in Islands environed with the sea, where both Rats, & Mice, have in such abundance swarmed, that they have forced the inhabitants to leave their place, & dwelling: for proof whereof, one of the Isles Cyclades, called Gyare, was by the only force, of these foresaid vermaine, left void of man destitute, and inhabitable. thesay authors again report, that there was also in France, a famous town, which by the only multitude of Toads, and Frogs there, was also by the inhabitants, left, and forsaken. The semblable chanced, as is evident, in Africa, by the only malice of Locusts, and Grasshoppers. Theophrastus 
The Palmer is alitte worm long and rough having many legs, and in lawn may be called bruchus, or campe●, or multipeda.  remembreth of an other country, which was by Palmers destroyed, and forsaken. another Province was there also in Libya, very fruitful, fertile, and abundant, from which the inhabitants were chaste, by the furious rage of Lions: how be it, as it was no marvel, so neither was it shame, for man to leave his country, by the malice of this beast. But the great weakness, and imbecility of man, is sufficiently seen, in that which Pliny reporteth, of a certain Province, upon the limits of Ethiopia, where as Ants, Scorpions, and other small vermaine, did to exile thence all the inhabitants. The people of Megaris in Grece, were driven by Bees only, to leave, and fly their city: as in like sort, by the Wasp, some times also the Ephesians. Antenor writing also of the Isle of Crete (as from him reporteth it Elian again) saith that a certain multitude of Bees, chaste out of a great city, all the inhabitants thereof, using their houses, in steed of Butts, or Hives. Many such others strange, and rare matters, are red, and recorded in old, and ancient histories.   
The end of the second part.   

¶ The third part of the Forest, or collection of divers lessons.  

How profitable a thing the invention of letters was, who first found or invented them, as also how the Hebrew Characters signify some thing of themselves, that which is incident to no other kind of letters, of what sort or kind so ever. Chap. 1.  
IF we account those worthy of great thanks, and praises, that have by study found out, and invented the arts liberal, and mechanical, those also that have left us divers other things, and doctrines, as well appertaining to the comfort, and consolation of the soul, as also to the use, and exercise of the body. How much then more stand we bound unto those, that first of all have given us the use of letters, which only preserve, and keep, all other inventions: for without them nothing may be reserved to the posterity, no device whatsoever can live, or remain: besides that, that by letters also, man continueth in every succession as immortal for ever. By them what so was done a thousand years hence is in such sort offered, and presented unto us, as if betwixt us, and them no time at all had passed. By them man attaineth to all discipline, and sciences, by them man in these days perfectly acquainteth himself, with that, which others before him well knew, and were learned in, as by the same again, what so ever man, in this present age inventeth, is preserved, and laid up for the posterity following. By them is fully sien, and perfectly represented, what so at any time hath in any sort been done, in such assured wise, and in such ample manner, that it might seem always to have continued still in doing, which never had been possible, but by the only mean, and commodetie of letters. Neither Plato, neither Aristotle, neither infinite other philosophers had held still the reputation, which their learning merited. To conclude it can none otherwise be said, but that the most worthy, and most excellent invention, that ever was by man thought on, is that same, of the first finding of letters, which who so would hardly credit, let him chief consider of those things that be written, which all should as well be utterly lost, and forlorn, as also again that no new thing might be reserved to the posterity. Sigh then by letters we reap, such, and so great commodities, it were reason we speak some thing, of their first aucthonr or inventor. How be it, it is laborious to search here in a troth, the diversities of opinions so different, and so many. The Gentiles in this case disagree with the Christians, the Christians again among themselves. Pliny, touching this 
Pliny in his seventh book,  different, remembreth sundry opinions, and among others addeth his advice, which in my judgement hath more show of troth than any other. First he saith they were found out by the Assyrians, in Assiria, though others some attribute it, to Mercury in Egipte. Some again affirm, that the Pelagians first brought them invented by them, in to Italy: and that they were again transported into Grece by the Phoenicians, with Cadmus there captain, which only then knew sixteen, and no more, and that after in the war of Troy, Palamedes unto the first, adjoined other four: but Pliny after that he had alleged the opinions of many, he concludeth, that in his opinion, letters were even from the beginning eternal, to weet, that they began, even at the first, with the world. That the first knowledge of letters, never the less came, by the Pheniciens in to Grece, Herodotus, with others many plainly affirm it: the Egyptians notwithstanding vaunt theimselues as 
Herodotus.  well of the first invention of letters, as of the arts. Diodorus Siculus attributeth it, as is foresaid to Mercury, how be it the same Diodorus Siculus in his fourth book 
Diodorus. Sic.  saith, that some imagen that the Ethiopians, both first had, and knew this excellent use of letters, and that the Egyptians, in truth, borrowed this skill afterward of them, so that, of these writers we can not gather the assured truth, which we so much desire. Concerning this matter, yet are there others, jews a great many, as well as also Christians, which attribute this first invention only unto Moses, who was before any the letters, or writings of the Gentiles, for that Cadmus of whom we forespeak, whom we also said to have brought the first letters into Grece, was in the time of Othoniel, duke, and captain of Israel, which lived forty and seven years, after the written law was given unto Moses. These that are of this opinion, among which we find Eupolemus, and Artabanus, heathen historiogriphers, affirm that the Egyptians first learned there letters of Moses, and that they afterward imperted of their knowledge to the Phoenicians, whence after again Cadmus, passed with them into Grece. Artabanus noteth, that this Mercury which all agree on, to have made the first profession of letters in Egipte, was Moses himself called of the Egyptians Mercury. Philon, an Hebrew, a man of great authority, saith that the invention of letters was yet again more ancient, who saith that Adam was the first author of them, & in deed they either were invented by Adam, or by his children, or by them at the least of the first age before the general flood, or inundation preserved by No, and his successors even until the time of Abraham, and from him again until Moses. And thus is the judgement, or opinion of Saint Augustine. Which is verified by the authority of josephus saying, that the nephews of Adam, sons of Seth, 
S. Augustine in his eightinth book, de civitate dei. josephus in his first book of his aniquities.  advanced or erected two sumptuous pillars, the one of stone, the other of clay, in which they wrote, or ingraned all the sciences: affirming that himself saw one of them in Syria. We find also that S. Jude the Apostle, allegeth in a certain Epistle of his, the book of Enoch, which also lived, before the flood. So that we must not doubt, but that Adam, and his children, which were so wise, which also had experience of so many things, were also they, that first found out the use of letters, and that No which afterward was both lettered, and learned, carefully preserved them in his Ark with him: how be it after that, in the confusion of tongues, which happened at the erection of the Tower of Babylon, it may be that the greatest part of the world lost then, and there the knowledge of the said letters again, which only remained in the family of Heber, of, or from whom afterward descended the hebrews, who (as we foresaid) never lost their first and ancient tongue. Which as it is true, so Saint Augustine reporteth it in his book above alleged, Eusebius also in his first book, of his preparation evangelical, as also the greater part of the learned of our time. Wherefore as well Philon, as also these others, which supposed Moses to have been the first father of letters, were there in all to gather deceived, for that it is evident, that these books and histories that were written by Moses were not as they deem, the first of all others, ne yet before the ancient study of Philosophy, the sad, and sage sayings also of the Greeks, as proveth Saint Augustine sufficiently in the same place, josephus against the grammarian Apion, Eusebius also and justinus martyrs. I conclude then that letters, were first, and before Moses, for that we find it recorded, that Moses himself learned the arts, and sciences of the Egyptians, which I well know not, how he cold have accomplished, if they before had had, no feeling in letters, although in deed, it be manifest, that they had certain signs, called literae hierogliphicae, by means of which as is above said, every of them sufficiently and well understood the other. From Adam then draw we the original of letters, as also that Abraham was after skilled of them in Syria: whence it cometh, that Pliny hath varied in his opinion, which we have in few now to fore remembered. It needeth nothing in this place to search the beginning, or cause, of the usual frame, or proportion of our characters, for that each man may fashion them, as is to him best seeming, as we daily see every man altar at his pleasure, adding signs, some times, in steed or place, of letters, as affirmeth S. Hierome in the prologue, of his book of laws, that when Esdras, the great scribe and doctor of the law, new wrote, or drew it out, in to some better form, he found there strange, and new characters of letters, which the jews after used, even in the time of saint Hierome, as they also do, even at this present day, which Hebrew letters, have a private propriety incident to no other letters, of any country or nation: for the voice, or name, of every of them, giveth signification of some one thing, or other. The first called Aleph, signifieth discipline, the second Beth signifieth a house: Gymel, an other letter, filling up, or abundance: Daleth, tables or books: the others also signify, and denote, other things, which all I leave, as also to be tedious. Who so here in is curious, and desireth to know more may read Eusebius, in his first book, de preparatione evangelica.   

Where on our elders wrote before the invention of Paper, and with what kind of instrument, how Paper, and Parchment were first found out. Who first invented the manner or skill of Printing, as also what inestimable profit thence riseth, and in fine by what mean a blind man may writ. Chap. 2.  
SOme what have we after a sort spoken, in the former chapter, of the invention of letters, it resteth now that we also search, on what matter our elders, or first fathers wrote, and although directly we shall not be able here of to discourse, ne yet where on they wrote, before the general inundation in the first age, for the matter is both doubtful & difficile, to weet, whether they had letters then, in very deed, ye or not, though we have passed it, as proved by the authority of josephus, as also aided, to that purpose, with some other proof, or reasons. Notwithstanding according to the opinion of all men, the first writers had no kind, or manner of Paper, but wrote continually on the leaves of the Date tree, whence came that word of leaves of books used at this day. After this they wrote again on the rinds of trees, but especially on those that most easily were drawn, or taken from the tree, as the Elm, the Ash, the palm or Burche tree, from which they took the innermost rind, that I mean, betwixt the crust and the tree, of which subtly and finely polished, they framed, and fashioned all their books, artificially conjoygning, and fastening them together. And for as much as, in that time, these rinds were called by the latin men libri, hence have books held from the time, to name this word libri, though they this day far differ in the matter as is evident. Now after this again an other way was found, to writ in plates of lead, very thin, and perfectly fined, of which some curious, and private persons, made aswell pillars as also books, in which they registered all public, and common acts. Besides this, they yet found an other way to writ, to weet, on linen cloth, fined and polished, with certain colours. Here also is, and in this place to be noted, that they then wrote not, as we now do with pens, but with Reads, which in latin may be called Calami, which also some use, even yet, in this day. another kind of Paper was yet found again, which was made, as it were of certain little trees, called (as we find) by the name of Papers, which, in deed were none other, than a sort, or kind of bull rushes, ordinarily growing, in marshes adioning to the river of Nile. Of which sort some others are found in Syria, nigh to the flood Euphrates, as recordeth Pliny, having the name, as the others, of papers, little thin leaves, or skins have they, betwixt the rind and the inner parts, which finely taken or drawn out, with the point of an Néelde, trimmeth afterward with a certain glue, or passed made with meal, tempered with boiled water and vinegar, was in the end made a good, and perfect paper, to writ draw, or do anything thereon: and by how much the nigher, you drew the skins, from the inward part of this Rush, or Reed, by so much was it both better, and more fine, and so according to the goodness or difference of them, they also had divers and different names. Who so desireth here in more, let him read Pliny. And 
Pliny in his thirtine book, the eleventh and twel●te chapters.  for as much as, this Reed, Rush, or little tree, was called paper, the name is thence derived of that paper, used by us this day, which is made of small pieces, or shreedes of linen cloth, thoroughly wasted and worn to nothing. Varro affirmeth that the first invention to make paper of these little trees, or rushes, was in the time of Alexander the great, even then when Alexandria was 
Alaxandria was founded by Alex. 320. years before the incarnation of Christ. Plin. in his. 31. book, and ix. Chapter.  by him first founded. How be it Pliny proveth it to be more ancient, by certain books which Terence did to be diggeth out of the ground, which before had been Numa Pompilius his books, king of Rome, found in the same Tomb, where he was buried, whose leaves were of the said rush, which we above remembered. And although Livy have otherwise written of this Tomb, affirming that there were two found by L. Patilius, yet be we of the mind, that Numa was long before Alexander. With Livy here in accord, both Lactantius, and plutarch in the life of Numa, Pliny's opinion notwithstanding is of most men approved. Some writ that this word Charta, took his original, or denomination of a certain Town nigh unto tire, called Carta, whence Dido altering the name, called it afterward Carthage. Our elders also wrote in tables weaxt, thin, and well fined, framing there letters with sharp, and small punchions, which themselves then termed, by the name of styles. Whence it cometh that we now usually say, that who so well inditeth, writeth a good style, borrowing the name, of the instrument that they then wrote with. Also before the innention of paper, where on we presently writ, the ancient custom was, all other fore used means seposed, to writ continually on Parchment only, made of sheep skins, of which remembreth us well Herodotus, whose invention Varro attributeth to the inhabitants of Pergamon, whose king then was Eumenes, whence in latin it is called at this day pergamenum, in english parchment. And where as in latin it is also called Membrana, it taketh as may he thought the name of the inventor. Nevertheless in my judgement, men wrote on these skines, long before that time, remembered by Varro, specified in like sort afterward by Pliny, for that josephus writeth, that the 
josephus in his 12. book of antiqnities,  books of the hebrews, and sundry others, which were many years before Eumenes, were also written on these skins, as above said. As also when he reciteth that Eleasar Prince of the Priests, sent the books, of holy scripture unto Ptolemy, with the seventy interpreters, to the intent, they for him, should translate them, from the Hebrew into greek, affirming that Ptolemy, both strangely was amazed and marveled at the subtle joining of these skins, or parchmentes together. Whence it is apart, that what so ever was written, in any sort, in parchment, was of longer, and greater continuance, then if it had been done, in these rinds or leaves, though in deed they both were of more antiquity, than the first. By means whereof, this use of Parchment, neither hath, neither will be, at any time again left, and since that paper again, which we daily now use, is so easy to make, and in such abundance, that it both helpeth, and profiteth all kind of students. But above all other things without comparison we must confess, that the skill of printing, (by the only means of which, such heaps of books come, of all sorts to our hands) is among all other inventions, that either be, or erst have been, in what sort so ever, to be preferred: which, as is written, was first of all invented by an Almain, inhabitant of Magonce, and height John Faust (though Polidore 
when and who first found the skill of printing.  otherwise surname him Petra) by whose account the first printing of books was there, in the year of our redemption, a thousand, four hundred, fifty and three. And shortly afterward an other Almain by name Conradus practised this art first of all in Italy. How be it Volateranus writeth that they were two, and both brothers, which passed thence into Italy, beginning to print in Rome, in the year of our Lord a thousand, four hundred, sixty, and five. The first books that were imprinted were saint Augustine's de civitate dei, and the divine institutions of Lactantius Firmianus. After this grew there many, excellent personages, as well in Germany, and France, as also in Italy, which besides their art, or skill in printing, were also perfectly, and passing well learned, as Baldus, Manucius, Badus, Colineus, and Frobenius, very diligent, and painful in correction of the letter, with infinite others, whose names to be short I leave of to remember. By means whereof many books, in manner lost and hidded, were at last published, to the inspeakable profit, & commodity of man, which was in deed the chief cause of so many learned men, as this day are every where to be found throughout all Christendom: which before both seldom, and with great pain attained, to this absolute knowledge, and perfection in learning. But admit here that it were not the first, and principal cause, yet am I of that mind, that it assuredly is the greatest cause, for that with less pain, we peruse now such as are perfectly corrected, finding the others every where full of faults, blots and errors, committed for the most part, either by the less skill, or little care of the writer: but if any one were found, perhaps among the others faultless, neither was he to be had, or to be perused of all men, so that good letters than flourished not, as they now, and this day, do universally every where. How be it since licence first was granted, by Princes to Print, all books, fabulous, wanton, and fruitless, far better had it been, in this respect doubtless, that the way to print had never been, to man yet, or known, or unfolded: For it destroyeth and withdraweth from virtue the good mind, principally of youth, which nuzzled in these follies, less affecteth, or desireth the study of better lessons. Leaving then to speak more of the commodities of printing, descend we to the next, the practice of hand writing, which also in my judgement, is this day more perfect, more curious, and more absolute, then at any time heretofore, in what age so ever. Concerning which matter, Quintilian giveth some rules, not less worthy to be observed, as also the learned Erasmus in his book, of good, and perfect pronunciation. But of this kind of hand writing, will I only speak, by the sole means of which, as hath the said Erasmus, certain blind men have learned orderly to writ. They did to be made a table of Porphire, of bone, or otherwise of metal, in which was engraved, every the letters, as a. b. c. etc. then took they in hand some small, and pretty instrument, at the point very fine, sharp, and subtle, such, and so well fined, that with ease they might draw it, through every the above said letters, their hands at first by some other, well directed, which thing by long practice, they shall in the end conceive, having the true form of each letter in mind, following it still, with continual use, and industry, by little, and little, shall in the end grow so perfect that afterward they shall be able, to frame them on any other matter, where though they some times fail, yet commonly, and for the most part, they shall do it well. And thus in fine, they may writ in paper, by just order, and proportion, what so ever, either offereth itself to the mind, or fantasy.   

Of the first Libraries that ever were in the world, and how the men, of that time used, to have the Images, or purtraites of the learned in them. Chap. 3.  
IT is to be thought, that the first books, and libraries, that ever were in the world, were in the beginning among the hebrews: for as it is evident, that letters were there first known, and the perfect use of them, so is it to be supposed, that they also had some care, to keep, and preserve, that which they at any time had committed to writing. That which is as well verified by the authority of josephus here after alleged, as also by that we read in holy writ. Isidorus reporteth that after the Chaldians had burned the library of the hebrews, with all and every their books of the law, the hebrews being returned back again into Jerusalem, the prophet Esdras illumined by the holy ghost, remedied this harm, writing again these books, and reducing them into the number of twenty two, which was the precise number of the letters of their Alphabet. Whence it is manifest that after Moses had written, the hebrews incontinently framed to themselves a library, for the better conservation of the said books of their law, as well these I mean, that we presently have of the old Testament, as also the others, of which we before remembered, among which was the book of Enoch, alleged, or sited by saint Jude the Apostle, in his Epistle above specified, the book of the wars of our saviour, whereof mention is in the twenty and one chapter of the book of Numbers, the book also of the true servants of God, vouchte in the second book, and first Chapter of the kings, the book of Samuel the prophet, remembered in the last Chapter, of Paralipomenon, the book of Nathan the Prophet, with many others, which all seemed to have bien brunt, or other wise consumed. So that it appeareth evidently, that the jews had their libraries, and that those of the Gentiles, were after them and later. The Greeks report, that the first that ever ordained any public library was Pisistratus tyrant of Athens, which after was augmented and enriched by the Athenians: whither when as Xerxes after ward came, he removed the library thence into Persia, where it was diligently, and carefully preserved, until long time after, that Seleucus, named Nicanor got them thence, and borough them back again to Athens. These things are reported of Aulus Gellius, and Isidorus, which both affirm that this library, grew daily after this, to 
A. Gel. in his sixth book. Isidorus in his sixth book.  be very rich of all books of what sort so ever. How be it the library of Alexandria in Egypte, which king Ptolomi● by his only means framed, was assuredly the most excellenst of all others in the world, for that there in was found all the old Testament, the other scriptures also of the seventy two interpreters with infinite others, famous, and learned works. P●inie not withstanding again reporteth, that the king Eumenes in contempt of Ptolemy, did an other to be erected in the City of Pergamon. A. Gellius, and Am. Mercellinus writ that in the library at Alexandria in Egypte, were at one time seven hundren thousand books. Seneca in like sort on the number accordeth with them, which although it might seem almost incredible, yet who so hath red of the sumptuous largesse, and excessive profution of the kings of Egypte, as well about sepulchres, Pyramids, temples, as also other common buildings, and ships, with infinite such others, of inestimable price, some part, of the which Budeus, in his annotations on the pandectes very well remembereth us, and Lazarus of Baif, in his book entitled, ars navalis, reporteth that this library seemed nothing to him impossible. From every part, and corner of the world, books were daily brought, to the better furnishing of this library, written also in all tongues what so ever then known, of which none had any charge, but such as were best learned. Some for the poets, some for histories, others some also for the others, of other faculties and sciences, which all were wasted and consumed with fire by the impacable fury of the Soldiers of Caesar, which even thither followed, and pursued the great and mighty Pomp, overrunning also at that same time the force of Ptolemy, brother to Cleopatra. Concerning that other, so rich of books, and so famous, by the pain and labour of Eumenes in Pargama, plutarch in the life of Marcus Antonius, saith, that he thither had gathered two hundred thousand volumes every one from other of sundry, and divers matters. As touching the library in Grece, Strabo affirmeth, that Aristotle was the first that ever gathered or brought together any books in Athens: where in he less accordeth with other historiogriphers, which attribute the commendation of that so honest a dimerite only to Pisistratus which was as is evident many years before Aristotle, wherefore we must in this place understand, that Strabo ment his words of a mean, and private parsonage, and not of king, or prince, as was in effect Pisistratus. Howbeit, very likely it is, that Aristotle herein was aided, by the busy pain of Alexander. After all these an other was erected in Rome, both public, and common by Asinius Pelion. But the first that ever brought great store of boakes thither was Paulus Emilius, after the conquest of Perseus. And after him again L. Lucullus, which he brought among other things as a pray out of Pontus. julius Caesar again, with like care inrichte this library, committing it to the charge, or kéepyuge of M. Varro, which afterwards with some others in Rome was brunt & destroyed, by means of the often sacking and subversion of that city. Which never the less was restored again by the Emperor Domitian, who every where and in all countries made diligent search for books, causing with the same, that famous library in Grece, to be trasported and brought from thence unto Rome, whence it is evident, that all Ptolemy's library was not there consumed as we before said it to be with fire, for that some part of it was now conveyed to Rome. Farther Paulus Orosius giveth us to think, that it thoroughly in deed was not brunt, and consumed, when he saith that there were burned only four hundred thousand, for that the number of books there, as we read in others, was no less than seven hundred thousand, so that we may conclude three hundred thousand to be saved, how be it, divers histories pass this in such sort, as if none had been reserved from the rage of the fire. But to return to the library of Rome, the said Paulus Orosius saith, that in the days of the Emperor Commodus, this said library was once again burned, and that Gordian (as the others) to repair it, gathered again fifty two thousand volumes, which all as some report were given him by the testament of Seranus Samoniquus, whose they first were as hath julius Capitolinus. Besides these were many others both noble, and rich libraries, gathered by our elders, as well private, and mean men, as great Lords and Princes. The first library that ever was known among the Christians, was that, as recordeth Esidorus of Panphilius the Martyr, whose life is at large written by Eusebius, in whose study after his death, were found thirty thousand divers volumes. One common usage or custom, was ordinary in the old age, to weet, that they had in their secret Cabinetes, or Studies, the perfect Image and purtraite, of all such as had in any sort, excelled in learning. Pliny writeth, that Marcus Varro being yet then living, merited for his rare virtue, and knowledge in good letters, that his Image should have place, in the library of Asinius Polion. Cicero wrote to Fabian, that he should provide him, of some purtraites, the better to adorn and beautify his study. Pliny the younger writing to julius Severus, saith, that Ere. Severus, a man very well lettered, would order in his study among other his purtraites, the Images of Cornelius, and Titus Arius. Of these things find we every where sufficient, and good proof: whose libraries as also those of other learned men, and great Princes, which after in success, and process of time followed, were destroyed, and defaced by the Gothee, and Vandals, until now, that in our time by the great bounty of God, infinite are found both studious and learned, that have gathered together huge heaps of books, though not in deed the tenth part, of these above remembered, by our ancestors. And assuredly a great number of those, which from their time until now have been carefully preserved found never the less ill written, less perfect, and incorrected, in such sort that had it not been, for the grerte pains, of certain worthy personages, hardly had they ever been brought to any kind of perfection.   

¶ Of the amity and enmity of sundry things, issuing by privy, hidden, and secret proprieties. Chap. 4.  
THe ancient philosopher Heraclitus, as also others some after him, held and maintained, in their disputations this opinion, that each thing had his first cause or beginning, by concord, and discord, by peace, and enmity, which is in all things of what kind soever, whence also issued the generation, and corruption of them: on which point of Philosophy I less mind here to devil, of part for that it is both intricate, and difficile of part also, for that the reader in my fantasy, shall thence reap as little fruit, as he shall conceive pleasure. Notwithstanding, we shall some what say, of the secret love, and hatred, which naturally is in many things, which, whence, or how it cometh no man directly knoweth: and is therefore assuredly, no less strange, then marvelous. As first of all, the enmity betwixt the Dog, and the Cat, betwixt Oil, and Pitch, the Heart, and the Serpent, with many such others, which in such sort malice, and envy each the other, this secret rancour, of no part proceeding from th'elements: for the difference, or contrariety in things mixed, or compound, is to all men apart, and evident, as we see. The water first disaccordeth, as of nature contrary with the fire, for that the fire is hot and dry, but the water contrary, these elementeseche to other opposite, and repugnant. The water and the earth, accord well together, but in this respect only, that they both be cold: in the other, that one being moist, that other dry, each here leaveth the other, as his ancient enemy. Betwixt the fire, and the earth there is a conformity, to weet, in that they both be dry a contrariety again, even between them both dwelleth, the fire hot, that other cold. So that as these elements of part, agree together, so also disagree they, of, part as is evident. All things then what so ever are, caused of these elements, must be subject of necessitieto these contrary qualities, which be in these elements, whence they mixed are, and compounded. Wherefore that thing, in which ruleth most, some elementary quality, borroweth his name of the said quality: and so we say it to be, either hot, cold, moist, or dry, some in more high degree than others, according to the predominant force, in any these elements. And this these bodies, contrary either to other, are the only, and sole causes of contrary effects, so that whence this discrepante, or different nature in things is, is now manifest, and needeth no farther explication. But this other enmity, that proceedeth not from any the elements, but rather from some hidden propriety, or secret influence, to found the true cause, and occasion thereof, would ask more earnest study, and longer contremplation. The Dog and Cat (as is above said) each hateth other, neither know we the cause why. Other creatures also see we, that mutually are affectioned either to other, neither issueth this their love, from any the elements, whereof they are composed. The Ass eateth Fenell gyante, or otherwise Sagapene, which in Latin may also be called ferula, and findeth it both good, and toothsome, which to all other beasts, of Horse kind, is a very stark, and plain poison. The Fox ioieth, and liketh of the Serpent which never the less, envieth all other beasts what so ever. Neither is this less to be marveled among men, than also among any other creatures, for that man neither knowing why, ne yet for what cause, eftsoons at the first sight, when he shall meet an other, never having before, or seen, or known him, will notwithstanding disdain, and hate him, and immediately finding again the second, no less strange to him, than the first, will well conceive of him, love, and like him, and that which more is, sometime will both honour, and reverence him, yea, though he be in deed, for causes just his inferior, little accounting of the others, were they though in truth great Lords, and Rulers. Again, we sometimes see, two men so strangely affectioned, that the one voweth himself to the will, and advice of the other, which oftsones hath happened, betwixt the servant, and master, so that by nature it seemeth (the order of reason inverted) that the vassaule was the better; no reason to be given, of so great a disorder. In case semblable such subjection, powdered sometimes, with malicious enmity, both is, and chanceth among birds also, as betwixt the Eagle, and the Swan, the Crow, and the Kite, which at times hardeneth herself, to take a prey from the Crow, even out of her folded foot, or pinching paws sliing. Like enmity is also betwixt the Chough, and the Kite; the Eagle also, and the Goose, in such sort, that if you lay but one feather of an Eagle, among many, or in a heap of these of a Goose, that one wasteth, and consumeth all the others to nothing. The Heart is mortal enemy unto the Snake, for with his vehement respiration, about her hole, he draweth the Snake out, by force of his breath only: and without more incontinently devoureth him: for proof whereof, who so pleaseth to burn, only some small part, or portion of his horn, shall find that no Serpent, will abide the smell thereof. The Crow, the Ass, and bull, in like sort disagree, whose eyes the Crow still beaketh, and laboureth to pluck out. The bird called Flore, skilfully counterfaiteth the braiing of a Horse, by means whereof, he as commonly feareth the horse, as the horse by the same means feareth also him. Great enemies to the Wolf, is the Fox, the Ass, and the bull, betwixt the Vulture also, and the Eel, nature hath proclaimed continual war, and hostility. The mighty Lion dreadeth, and feareth the Cock, he also flieth the sight of fire, and the noise of a cart, the Panther in like sort, the presence of the Hind: the Scorpion pursueth with fatal enmity, the Tarentula, which in Latin we may call Falanga, whose venom, when he hath bitten any man is no way (as some writ) cured, but by pleasant harmony, and Music, and the malice of these two beasts is such, and so impacable, that who also is stonge, or bitten of the Scorpion, findeth present remedy in that oil, where the Tarentula, or Falanga hath tofore been drowned. The monstruous, and huge Elephante, both feareth, and flieth the simple Serpent, he trembleth at the presence, and sight, of a sheep, he by no means endureth the grunning of a Hog. The Horse, Ass, or Moil, with great pain abideth to see the We cell, the Snite, or wood Cock, hardly dwelleth in the sight of the house Cock. There is a kind of Faucons, which Aristotle calleth Tico, that liveth in continual war, and enmity with the Fox, never missing to fight with him, where he so at any time findeth him. Elian mindeth us or incessant malice, betwixt an other sort of Faucons, called Pelagra, and the Crow, betwixt the Crow again also, and the harmless Turtle. Betwixt the Owl and the curlew, & in fine, betwixt the partridge and the Tortuis The Pelican above all other birds, hateth the Quail, and the Horse, without comparison, with most pain endureth the chamois. Like enmity is also naturally among fishes, the Crab may not abide in company with the Oyster, the Dolphin, and the Whale sly each the other, the Cunger naturally hateth the Lampraie, and Oyster. The Oyster on the Eel, hath such a predominant, and malicious force, and the Eel in such sort abhorreth and feareth him, that if by hap she once see him, she incontinently dieth thereof. The Pike fatally prosecuteth, the fish of some, called Mongilla, or Mugra: the Snake beholding a man appareled, wisheth him harm and hardeneth herself, as she may, to bite, and annoy him, but seeing the same naked, feareth again, and flieth him. The Rat, or Mouse rather, is to the Snake an ancient enemy, as well when she is busied in couching her Eggs, as also in the Winter, when she lieth deep hidden, in the entrails of the earth: by means whereof, the Snake to live in more security, heapeth together in her hole, good store of provision, meats fit, and well pleasing her adversary the Mouse, to the intent that the Mouse being well fed therewith, she at that time might forget, her farther rage, and malice. The wolves malice towards the Sheep is such, and so natural, that if you make a drum of the skin of a Wolf, the Sheep with no less fear, flieth the sound thereof, then if the Wolf were living, and present then before him. Farther also some others affirm, that if you make any strings for the Vial, or Lute, of the guts as well of the Sheep, as of the Wolf also, you never shall accord them, or frame thence any harmony. If ye hang the skin of a Wolf, either in your stable, or Shepehouse, or where your flock is fodthered, the sight, and fear thereof, forceth them to forget their feeding. The Mouse by a secret propriety, so much envieth the Scorpion, that whom so ever he impoisoneth, is by clapping of a Mouse, on the part affected, cured. The Viper and Snake, dread marvelously the Crab, which naturally hath over these worms, such assured mastery, that if a hog by hap, should be bitten of the Viper, he immediately expelleth the poison, having eaten of the Crab. Besides, which most strange is, as soon as the Sun entereth into the sign of Cancer, all Serpents then languish, as sick of some malady. The fish called Scorpio, and the Crocodile, wage continual battle, each killing still the other. The Panther in such sort feareth the Ounce: that as some writ, he suffereth himself to be slain of him, without any kind of resistance: and also if you hung the Panther's skin, in that place where you keep the Ounce; the Panther's skin will then pill, waste, and consume. Such is the enmity also of the Chough, and the Daw, that as Aristotle reporteth, each robbeth, and destroyeth the others Eggs. The Wasp liveth in continual war with the Spider: as doth the Duck also; with the Mouse or Rat, each seeking to devour, and eat the others young ones. The Kite continually malliceth, and hateth the Fox. There is a small kind of Hawks, which Pliny calleth Esalon, which with fatal enmity, pursueth still the Crow, he searcheth out her nest, and destroyeth her eggs. The hog hardly endureth the presence of the weasel. The Wolf, and Lion are enemies so contrary, that the blood of the one, will not be mixed with the other. The Mole or Want, so disliketh of the Ant, that he abideth not in the place, where the others be. The Spider wageth privy war, against the Serpent, and as Pliny reporteth, doth him shamefully to die. Besides all these, among things also void, and lacking life, like repugnancy, or contrariety of nature is to be found for as we first said, oil is enemy to Pitch, for trial whereof, who so putteth oil into a pitchy vessel, shall see that the Pitch will soon consume the Oil. Oil again disagreeth with water: as doth also in like sort Lime, but Oil and Lime live in perpetual league, and amity. The olive hath a secret, & hidden force, against the unchaste lecherer, such in deed, and so strange, that as it is written, if a woman less chaste, attempt to plant him, she shall languish, and die of it, the tree also withereth. The Colewort hardly groweth, being sown nigh to Maioram. Salt water waxeth sweet, mixed with Wheaton flower, in such sort, that within two hours afterward, a man may easily drink thereof. We might in this place load the reader, with infinite such examples, of fatal, and mortal enmity, as well among things having life, as also others insensible, which all to tarry, were long and tedious: as on the other side also we might speak of many things, that secretly occord well by the privy instinct of nature, as of the Peacock, and the Pigeon, the Turtle, and the Popingay, the thrush, and the Crane. Aristotle reporteth a strange example of amity, betwixt a certain kind of sparrows, and the Crocodile, he saith, that this huge beast openeth his mouth, to th'intent, this little bird should come in there at, to beak, trim, and make clean his teeth, to purge his gums, and ease him every where, and in fine addeth that this sparrow, feedeth, and pleaseth, in that loathsome filth, he there gathereth. It is also said, that the Fore loveth well the Crow, the Daw also the Hen of India, and in fine the Lark, an other bird called the joncke. The Fox is never indomaged by any kind of Snake, the Pigeon ioieth in the presence of the Turtle, the Partridge also with her beloved the Wooddove. The fish, in Latin called Talpa marina, is above all others favoured, and beloved of the Whale, which as witnesseth Pliny, rolleth carefully before her, advising her where to shoes the whirling gulfs, and deep holes. Behold now the marvelous works, and secret force of nature, through the providence of GOD, moved, by the influence of the Stars, and planets, which all we find sufficiently, and well authorized, by Pliny, Aristoile, Albertus Magnus, Elian, Marbodeus the Poet, in his books of the nature, and propriety of stones, with many others, both ancient, and late writers as well of the nature of beasts, as of other things.   

By what means both amity and enmity proceed from the heavenly, and celestial influence: and why a man hateth or loveth another. Chap. 5.  
AS we have above said concerning the secret, and privy force of nature, so are there certain Stars and planets, which have more particular dominion on some things, then on some others, forcing by their private influence some assured proprieties, which neither are caused, be of any elimentarie qualities: how be it, we neither yet may properly say, that there is any hostility, or discord betwixt the stars or fignes in heaven. Notwithstanding the ancient philosophers and Astrologians, considering the sundry and contrary effects of the influences, caused by the Stars and planets in these our earthly corruptible and inferior bodies, by their only motions and irradiations, have attributed unto them for just cause, divers qualities, as well of ametie, as enmity together, whereof we find most apart, and plain demonstration as well in Guido Bonatus, as Schonerus, and infinite others, Mars and Venus are enemies to Saturn, jupiter also and Mercury malice each th'other: the sun and the Moon with all other planets live in league perpetual, and amity with jupiter, Mars only excepted, general enemy to them all, Venus alone exempted. jupiter and Venus with like love embrace the Sun, whose contraries are Mars Mercury, and the Moon. Venus favoureth all th'others, and is sole enemy to Sarurne. So is there then betwixt these (which to be short I pass over) both amity, and enmity, as is above said. The case then thus standing those things that are subject, as governed by any one Planette, must, by inclination natural, either lone, or disdain, what so else is subject to any other, be it either Planet, sign, or constellation, according to the conformity or diversity of nature, which shall be betwixt these stars which rule, and reign over them, and then is this enmity, of greatest force, and efficacy. When that betwixt the natures, & qualities of these Planets, unto which they be in any respect subject, be of most repugnant, and contrary nature: as on th'other side, that mutual amity, shall so much be the stronger, as the conformity of these celestial bodies, shall be either nigher, or greater. And this supernal force, or constellation, no less extendeth itself to man, than it also doth to every other creature. How be it man, being of more free, and advised determination, although he of part feel this repugnancy, or inclination, yet by grace is he able to withstand, and resist it, where as other creatures void of reason, not using this privilege, are ordered, and carried every where, according to their natural inclination, executing to their uttereste, what so seemeth to them agreeable: the same also is incident to herbs, and to plants. Concerning the mutual love, or affection betwixt men, Astronomers affirm, and among them their Prince Ptolemy, that those, that in their nativity, shall have one, and the same sign, for their ascendente, shall like, and love very friendly together, as also semblably those, that have both the Sun, and the Moon, in any one sign together. And again, they add that to the said purpose, it sufficeth to have one also, and the same Planette dominatour, in their birth, or nativity, for it naturally provoketh love, and conformity of nature, or if one Planet, to both be not perhaps lord, it yet sufficeth, that the two, be friends themselves together, or that, the one behold the other, with good, and favourable asspecte: which easily is seen, the figures of both nativities erected. Great help also groweth to this conformity, if their have some part of Fortune, in the same sign, or house together, and that the house, or sign, in which the Moon shall be, in the nativity of the one, shall have a favourable asspecte, in the birth of the other: for as they more, or less shall accord in these conditions, so shall the affections of the parties increase, or else diminish. Whence it is, that two men having to do, one, and the same thing, the third without his deserts, or cause what soever, is affectionate, and leaveth, as sworn friend to that one, and on the other side wisheth harm, and sinister Fortune to that other, without any annoy, or offence on that side committed: which might happen to two such, whose ascendentes were of repugnant qualities, and of a contrary triplicity, the lords also of their nativities, of nature opposite, and enemies, as the Sun, and Moon in opposition, in signs of divers natures, and that these planets, in the birth of the first, be in unfortunate asspectes, to these of that other. For these things, and such others, as here might be alleged, are the causes why one beholding an other, conceiveth strait against him, some inward disdain, or pleasure (as is evident when we see two men playing together, fight, or dispute for what matter so ever) for that neither standing bound, to the one, or the other, neither ever having known them, who, or whence they are, wisheth notwithstanding, the desired victory sooner, to the one, then to the other. Concerning that, whereof we have spoken that one man without any occasion, should so much dread, or fear an other, that he submitteth himself, and boweth, feign, and glad to be ruled by him, though indeed he be his better, more worthy, or more honourable, the case is evident, and by experience common. Of which all, Ptolemy giveth this reason, saying: that who so in his nativity, shall have his lord, or ruler, or for better demonstration, to exemplify of two, of which the one having the lord of his nativity, in some sign ascendent, in the first, or east angle, the other in the south, or tenth angle, the house of honour, he naturally ruleth, ordereth, and governeth the other. The semblable again also chanceth to those, in whose nativities, the one hath that Planette for his lord, which to the other is most unfortunate, void of every kind of dignity. If two also have one, and the same sign, for their ascendent or otherwise for their lord, and ruler one Planet, he to whom this Planet shall be of most force, and authority (as was above said in beasts void of reason) shall naturally rule, and have dominion over the other. When then this advantage, happeneth to such a one, as is of the other, both loved and favoured, he by mean thereof, immediately both ordereth, and governeth him: but if it chance, or betide, percase to a poor servant, or vassaule, he then assuredly is faithful, obedient, and loyal, if to two friends of equal birth and ability (as is, and hath many times been seen) each than liveth with other, in most perfect integrity, the one for the most part ordering, every the affairs, or business of the other.   

¶ That the memory may be hurt, and that it also by art, and by policy may be fortified. Chapt. 6.  
EVen as the memory in man, is a thing most excellent, so also is it very dainty, an delicate, obnoxious, and subject, to sundry misfortunes, as to sickness, hurts, and wounds on the head, age, sudden fear, faults from high places, with many such others. All which offend, and hurt the memory, indomaging her usual place, or seat, as also the organs, or instruments thereof. Whence it cometh in this place to be considered, that some by the weakness, and debility of memory, have utterly forgotten all things, what soever they once knew, or otherwise had learned. Some again in one thing have been only maihemed, as Pliny 
Pliny lib. 7. cap. 8.  well noteth, of Messala corvinus, who after a disease (of which he well recovered) lived ever afterward in such case, that he never could remember, his own proper name. Valerius also discoursing of miracles, reporteth that a learned man, by the knock of a stone, which he received on the head, forgot what soever he before had profited, in any the Sciences, or other good studies, and yet not withstanding in all other affairs, was of memory as fresh, and as perfect as at any other time. An other by a fall, from a place on high, forgot also to know his own natural parents. I have both read, and heard it reported, that Franciscus Barbarus, a man of our time, not meanly learned, but especially in the Greek, wherein he most pleasured, by the mean of a malady, wherewith he was troubled, forgot all what soever he before had gained, in the ripe, and exact knowledge of the said tongue: remaining in all other things, no less learned than at the first, a thing in truth very strange, and marvelous. It is also recorded, that Georgius Trapes. a man famous for his learning, forgot in his age, what so in good letters, he tofore had profited. And as we find here, that memory in man, by sundry occasions, may well be weakened, so also find we some, that naturally have had faint, and slipping memories. The Emperor Claudius here in so holted, as Suetonius writing his life, reporteth, that some times having in bed by him his wife, incontinently after he had talked any thing with her, he so become unmindful of himself, and all other things, that he would ask where she was, why she came not to bed, and why she so long tarried. And having done to death on a time, a noble man, the day following made inquiry for him again, to determine with the others of his counsel on controversies. Herodotus Sophista had a son, of so simple a memory, that by no: labour possible, he could learn, or attain to the knowledge of the letters by order, by means whereof, the father (who so much desired, his entrance in learning) the better to bring him to some kind of feeling, did to be fostered in his house, twenty four young boys, all of his own age, to every of which for name, he gave the name of a letter, to the intent that he acquainted with them, and calling them by the it names, might also remember the number, and order of the letters. And as it is said above, that sudden fear eftfones troubleth the memory, so assuredly true is it, that although in deed it utterly destroy not the memory, yet at times it forceth man, to forget these things, that he before carefully with paive, had committed unto her, as it ones happened to Demosthenes, a most excellent Orator, which passing ambassador, to Philippe king of Macedon, felt in himself so strange an alteration, being present to utter his charge, before so puissant a prince, that having passed in some little part, of his premeditated oration, arrested of the sudden, forgetting that which remained, as if he never had before thought thereon or in any sort digested it. The very semblable read we of Theophratus, which being mounted in his chair, would have uttered some words, before the Areopagites of Athens, of Herodes the Athenian, who received in charge, to have spoken before the Emperor Marcus Antonius: of Eraclides in the presence of the Emperor Severus, at lest, as is left us, by record, of Philostratus. And almost in this our age Bartholomeus Socinus, borne at Sienna, a man absolutely grounded, and learned in the laws, assigned ambassador for his country, unto Pope Alexandre in whose presence (as the manner is) when he a little while had spoken, abashed some thing by the sight, and present being there of these princes, which were there assembled, beyond the wonted number, forgot himself, suddenly so amazed, that he farther in order, could not pronounce one word. To me also such an alteration once happened, as was that other above remembered of Demosthenes (not that I would here enter into comparison) in the presence of a worshipful, and learned audience, and that by the great affection, which I had, to the consideration of my cause, which in such sort altered me, before all the senators, that I less able was to end my matter there began, though before I had well thought 
Pet. Crinitus lib. 5. cap. 3.  there on and well disposed it in order. Now that the memory may be aided, and preserved by art, can of no man, what soever, for any cause be doubted, of which, and whose remedy, many a learned hand hath curiously written. As Solinus, and Quintilian both at large, and in many. Seneca also in the place above alleged, where he reporteth this art memorative, to be so facile, and easy, that in few days all men, may be well skilled therein. It is also written, that Cineas, the ambassador of the renowned Pyrrhus, practised this art to help, and aid his memory. Pliny, and Quintilian writ, that Simonides first found this mean, to preserve the memory, although the said Pliny affirm, that Metrodorus reduced it afterward to perfection, who also by that art marvelously fortified, and confirmed his own memory. Cicero in his book de oratore, Quintilian also, and Valerius in his miracles, reporteth, that Simonides on a time invited, with sundry others, to a great banquet, the house where they feasted, suddenly fell down, by means whereof no one escaped that death, Simonides excepted, who even in that instant rose, and went forth, called by some one, he never yet knew who, by which hap at that time, he there saved his life. And the histories record, that when the dead bodies were drawn out, which were many, all invited geastes, to that so infortunate a dinner, Simonides declared where, and in what order every of them were placed, and sat at the table, even then, and in that instant, when the house so fell on them. The examples that might be alleged, in this place, to this purpose, are many, but it sufficeth us, to arrest on that, which is said. One other thing also, riseth here to be noted, which is that the Philosophers, and principally Aristotle, find a scruple, or difference, betwixt the memory, and recordation, for that memory say they may be, as well in beasts, as in man, although not in so perfect, and in so absolute a sort, and manner, but recordation to man only, and to him alone is proper, which is to record with discourse, studying on things, as in cases of contemplation, descending from the general, to the parts, and particulars, not omitting, the circumstances both of time, and persons, and that all with due consideration, and advise: for beasts void of reason, remember also the place, where they at any time have hardly been entreated, the Horse shunneth to devil, where he hath been harmed, and in like sort all others, more or less in their degrees. But as we have said, recordation then in man, is much more absolute, and perfect, assisted with sound advise, and intelligence, orderly passing from matter to matter. So that according to the opinion of Aristotle, that man, that hath a most sharp, and fined wit, is also of better recordation than an other, though some other perhaps exceed him, in the perfection of memory: for that to record well, is a certain manner of investigation, which forceth the memory as it were sleeping to awake, to call to mind, and to remember, any thing, what soever, wherefore the most quick, and best fined wits, soneste conceive things, and commit them to memory, and memory by recordation, maketh of them again, at all times faithful restitution. The Greeks among others many, the vanities of their Gods, adored, or reverenced a Goddess of memory, in such sort that this force, or power, of the mind, hath evermore been had, in great reverence, and estimation. Wherefore to conclude, man standeth highly bound unto God, for this so heavenly, and excellent a benefit, and aught studiously to endeavour, to maintain, and preserve it. Marcilius Ficinus in his book, de triplici vita giveth sundry instructions, and precepts to this purpose.   

In what honour, and reputation, Philosophers, poets, and all others, in what art, or science, soever they were learned, lived with Emperors, Kings, and Princes, in times past. Chap. 7.  
Truly and for just cause may we not complain, of the want of learned men, in every art and science: but on th'other side I see good letters to mourn, that they now be not so well esteemed, and thought of, ne yet so well recompensed of princes in this age, as the well lettered in times paste were, by Emproures, Kings, and other noble personages in those days. And to speak the truth, whither in deed they have so good reason to plain them I will pass it now in few, and in place of disputation, will only remimber here some few histories, or examples of ancient princes, and sundry monarch, which so fostored and favoured the studious, & learned, that entering into comparison of their virtuous demerits, with these others that live now in these our unhappy days, it may be evident to all men, what cause they have in truth to sorrow, and to complain. first to begin with that most excellent, and most victorious Pomp, of whom we read, that when he subdued, and vanquished Mithridates, with others many victories, and adventures of arms, being entered Athens, with all his spoils triumphantly, the Ensigns and Standards of his enemies borne before him, as was than the manner of the consuls, and Roman Captains, was advertised that the Philosopher Possidonius lay presently then sick, and diseased in his bed, who desirous to visit him, would not only honour him with his personal presence, but approaching nigh unto his house, commanded that his foresaid imperial Ensigns, should also be carried into the philosopher's Chamber with him: for that in his advice, all Kings, and Emperors, aught true duty, and reverence to learning, and virtue. This then, and in this manner bowed he to this poor man, that would have refused to have stooped to any Prince then living. Denis the tyrant King of Siracusa, having wound by entreaty, the divine Plato to come, and visit him, and understanding that he was on the way coming, issued in marvelous pomp of purpose to meet him, whom he received into his own coach, drawn with white horses, with most great and solemn triumph, that was to be devised possible, for the marvelous reputation, in those days, due to the learned. Alexander determining to sack, and destroy the town of Thebes, commanded first that no man should touch in any wise, the house of the Poet Pindarus. In what honour Virgil lived, and reputation with Octavian, is evident to all men through out the whole world, whom the people of Rome healed in such admiration, that as Pliny in his seventh book amply recordeth, when he entered into the Theatre to pronounce some his verses, all the multitude roase to him, doing him no less reverence, than they did to the Emperor: and that which more is Silius Italicus a famous Poet a Spaniarde borne, had his day of nativity of all men so solemnized, that they more carefully did, with more reverence, and devotion prepare to adorn to bliss, and sanctify that day, than they did any others, that had any care to solemnize, or beautify his own birth. The gifts also that were presented unto Virgil, as well by Octavian, Maecenas, and others, were such, and so rich as reporteth Servius, that he in short time was found to be worth no less than six thousand Sesterces in ready money, which with us mount to two hundred, and fifty thousand french Crowns: he had in Rome a sumptuous, and an honourable palais, by means whereof ●uuinal in his seventh Satire, accounted him for one of the richest in that time. On a day this Poet in the presence of Octavian, & Livia his wife, mother to Marcellus, uttering certain verses of his AEneidos, and drawing to the end, where he with such an excellent grace, and comely majesty, had also some thing said of the above remembered Marcellus, which lately before had then yielded to nature, in such sort, that the poor passionate, and sorrowful mother, began to faint, falling into an ecstasy, not hearing the end or last of his verses. But after ward revived, coming again to herself, commanded that for every verse that she then had lost, that ten Sesterces should be numbered forthwith unto Virgil, who after that she fainted pronounced, by account, just one and twenty, for which all he received as was her commandment a reward mounting to the value of five thousand Ducats. It is written that the people of Siracusa, had certain Athenians prisoners, which by heart had learned some verses, out of the Greek poet Euripides, which at times they applied in talk, as occasion best served them, by means whereof only, in th'honour of that Poet, they infranchiste them, delivered them, and sent them home into their country, Scipio Africanus, carried evermore in war with him, during his life, the Image or purtraite of the learned Ennius, and dying ordained, that it should be fastened on his tomb, or sepulchre. Silius Italicus a worthy poet, was by means of Domician three times Consul in Rome, which Mercial recordeth in an Epigram thus beginning Augusto pia thura: but what? what honour the princes of our time have done either to Polician, Pontanus, to Sannazar and such others, I never yet any where heard any thing at all. And again to speak of others, that live yet presently, as Ronsarde in France Belay and others, poets lauriate, and learned men of worthy memory. But some will say, they yet live, and therefore may be advanced, of little time and few years, though of great wisdom, and reading, which all might be compared to these, which long since were, of rare wisdom, and gravity. Mithridates also, to speak again of our elders had Plato, for his learning, in such admiration, that desirous to have his purtraite or Image, caused each where to be sought one Silan to do it, for that, for his excellency he surpassed all others, for in those days it was accounted a singular honour, to have in places public, the true purtraites of the learned, neither was it lawful to have any of these tables, or paintynges, but of such as had done some virtuous exploits, by their wisdom and learning commended to the posterity. For which cause the Athenians had the Image of Demosthenes, with a subscription of such, and so much honour, as never to fore had been granted to any: it was thus of him written, that if the puissance of Demosthenes, had been such as was his wisdom, the King of Macedon had then never entered into Grece. josephus the jew being brought to Rome, prisoner and captive, among th'others of Jerusalem, had notwithstanding, for that he had written of the antiquity of the jews, his Image erected among the others of Rome. The Athenians strangely again ravished with the singular excellency of Phalericus auditor, and disciple of Theophrastus, did his Image to be placed in thirty parts of their City. Now than if these men were in this sort honoured, it can not be gainsaid but that they also received salaries equivalent, to these their honours. For as Athenes writeth in his ninth book de Sinosophistis, Aristotle for his book de animalibus received of Alexander eight hundred talentes, which might value of our money, four hundred, and four score thousand french Crowns or there about, which also is verified by Pliny in his eight book, who reporteth that Alexander so much desired to have this work finished, and ended, that he sent many thousands through out all Grece, and Asia, with his express letters and commandments, that they should as well be obeyed as instructed, in what so ever they sought, concerning the use nature, manner, and custom, of beasts, fowls, fishes, and such others, to the intent they might be skilled in every their natural proprieties and qualities, to the intent they thereof might advertise Aristotle. If Homer the only Phoenix of all the Greek poets, had happily lived in the days of Alexander, it is to be presumed that he would have done him no less honour, then to Aristotle, for that on a time a certain little Cheaste being presented to him, in which Darius had ever kept his rich, and sweet ointementes, said (very glad that his hap was then to have it) that he would keep, and preserve there in a far more precious Oil, and with the same coucheth Homeres books with in it, with which he daily busied himself, continually reading them. The Emperor Traian, for his learning only, so much honoured the philosopher Dion, that when he to recreate hymsef, would pass in to the fields, he did him to be placed by him, in his own proper Coach, and so would enter, with him in to Rome, in most triumphant manner. In these wars which the'mperour Octavian had in Egypt against M. Antonius, heesaied that he had left to sack and spoil Alexandria, for the only honour and renown of Alexander that built it, and of part also of the Philosopher Arrias. The said Emperor also, ordained Cornelius Gallus Tribune of the people, only for that he was so excellent a Poet. Snetonius in the life of Vespasian showeth, what rewards in the old time were lotted to the learned. For though (saith he) that this Emperor were noted of avarice, yet favoured he notwithstanding learned exercises, and the lettered, and gave to every the masters, or readers of the sciences, such annual stipends, and gross sums of money, that reducing them in to our money, according to the computation of Beroaldus and Budeus, each received yearly two thousand, and five hundred Ducketes. By the testimony of Pliny in his seventh book, writing of Isocrates a Greek Orator, is evident in what sort learning was reverenced: for (saith he) this Isocrates, having spoken opeuly for a certain man, in recompense forth with, received twenty talentes, mounting to the sum of twelve thousand french Crowns. It is also red that the Emperor Antonius, son to Severus, gave to Appian, so many Ducats of Gold, as there were verses in a great book, which he then had digested, of the nature, and propriety, of all kind of fishes. Themperor Gratiam oduertised, that Ausonius the poet, wrote a verse with no less good grace, than assured facility, called him to the honour of a consul immediately, than which, none was greater, saving that of The'mperour. Domician also, though he were otherwise, accursed, and impius, enriched with great rewards the Poet Eustachius, whom in the day of his nativity (even in his most pompous and curious solemnity) he did to sit at his own proper table, cro●…yng him with bay, or laurel, where with poets in those days were principally honoured. Seleyus Vasa a Poet lirique, was embraced of the Emperor Vespasian, with courteous, and friendly words every where entertained, and in fine received of him, no less rewards than the other aforesaid Arrian for his history compiled by him in Greek of the famous oxploites, of the renowned Alexander, as also that he was otherwise well lettered, was ordained Consul of Rome by Adrian & Antoninus. Neither were these men only this honoured living, but in like sort also after their death, by the posterity, as is manifest, in that Ptolemy king of Egypt, did to be erected both an Image, and Temple, noless sumptuous to Homer, than to any other his gods, what so ever. In Mantua also, long after his death, was erected an other, to the poet Virgil. That excellent Horace, though we less assure our serves, of his great substance, and wealth, yet was he advanced to great offices, by Octavian the Emperor. Here cold I remember you many other examples serving to this purpose, but I leave to be tedious. Now if any will object here that the fage Seneca, was cruelly done to death by the wretched Nero, I answer he was a tyrant, and did it therefore besides reason, and that he living was in Rome of great worship and substance. It is a true, and ancient proverb, honours make the learned, and nourish the sciences. So find we that in the days, of these Kings, and Emperors, when they so favoured the studious, and lettered, great store was each where found of men wise, and learned, as when Octavian lived, Claudius, and Adrian, Vespasian, Antoninus, Alexander and others. And to speak of others that lived in these our days, as of the Emperonr Sigismonde, Robert King of Sicilia, Nicholas the fift Bishop of Rome, Alphonsus, and Mathias kings of Naples, & Hungary, these also of the house of Medecis in Florence: the slower of which house liveth this day crowned in France, following the steps, and virtues of his elders, but especially of that good king Francis, in whose time France so flourished in learning, that it justly might have been said an other Grece, or Athens.   

That learning is necessary as well unto Princes as also to all Captains, that live at any times in arms. Chap. 8.  
I Might here remember many ancient histories, besides the true, and assured proofs, that Princes in times paste were for the most part learned, as that they also knew, that nothing, for fit, or good government was more necessary, then to taste, or savour in any sort of good letters. But for as much as these things are evident, plain, and well known, I will not devil long, or stay here much on them. We read not withstanding that Philippe King of Madonie, seeing Alexander to be borne to him, Aristotle then in Athens, he sent him a letter to this purpose notable, recited by plutarch, and A. Gellius, in which he 
A. Gel libr. 15. cap. 3.  yieldeth his humble thanks unto the gods, not so much for that he had a son then borne, as for that he was borne in the days of Aristotle: whence it is, even in these few evident, how much this good prince affected and desired that his son should be fostered in all kind of literature, to th'intent he might be such a prince and captain, as was his father's desire he should, and as he after proved, whom as soon as he was of age fit for study, he gave him (as is said) Aristotle for master, whom presently he inrichte with great and large salaries, reedifiing also for the love of this his son, a huge and waist city, which he to fore had razed, where he did to be built for him also a school more sumptuous, and gay, then erst had else been sien. Antigonus also king some times of Macedon, well knowing how necessary learning was for government, tickled with the renown of the famous Zeno, a Philosopher most excellent, & prince of the stoics, desired beyond measure, to have him at home with him, which thing he straight attempted by letters, and ambassadors: which letters Diogenes Laercius in this sort remembreth: Antigonus king to Zeno Philosopher greeting: I know well that in riches, in the gifts of Fortune, and in such others, like things of reputation, I far excel, and pass thee every way: how be it, I gladly also confess, that thou again exceadest me, in the true felicltie, in the studies of the arts, the sciences, and Philosophy. Wherefore my desire is, that thou shouldest suggeourne here with me: which thing I beseech thee grant, and accord me, to the end, that I may use this thy desired company: which doing, be thou assured, that thou shalt not only rule, and master me, but also shalt order, all others the Macedonians, for who so well instructeth, and ordereth well the Prince, schooleth with bounty, and virtue, all his subjects: and that this is true, we commonly do see, that such as is the king, such also are his vassaules, and such as is the captain, such continually are found, and seen to be his soldiers. These letters received, by this venerable Philosopher, he sorrowed that he could not, by means of his great age, answer the expectation of this virtuous, and good prince, but sent him of part, to content him with all, two of his wiseste, and best learned scholars, by whose industry, he profited both in virtue, and learning. Aristotle in like sort, whose auditor Alexander was, for the space of five full years, profited him, his scholar in such sort, that he afterward proved a most excellent, and wise prince, such in deed, and so perfect, as none was found to him comparable, throughout the whole world. Being in the middle of his army, he never would leave, or abandon his study, but with his sword did to be said, under his beds head, Homers Iliads, and other books, which he usually carried. So that as appeareth, he made equal account, as well I mean of the study of Philosophy, and good letters, as also of the conquest of great kingdoms, and countries. And farther saith plutarch, A. Gellius, and Themistocles, that he being busied, about the conquest of Asia, was advertised, that Aristotle had published, certain books of natural Philosophy, the same in deed, which he had painfully tofore red to him: by means whereof, he wrote to him in effect, as followeth. In very truth Aristotle, thou haste not done well, in making common these books, of Philosophy, by thee composed, sore how in thine own judgement, may I now surpass others, if this now, which thou some times didst teach me, by thy means become common, and well known unto all men? Know assuredly, that I more affect to ercell others in learning, then in any the riches, or kingdoms, of the world. Which thing as soon as it was, once understood of Aristotle, he answered that his books, which he then had printed, were so intricate, obscure, and difficile, that it was impossible, for any man to profit by them, if himself did not first of all expound, and interpret them. Pyrrhus' an excellent captain, and king of the Epirotes, which long lived in arms, at de●●aunce with the romans, who also at times discomfited, and vanquishte them, not only busied himself, in the often reading of the Sciences, but also published certain books, of which some were written, of the policies, or precepts of war. That which alsoin our time, hath done that worthy parsonage, Gulielmus de Bellai, signior of Langei. What shall we also writ of julius Caesar, the first Emperor, and best captain that ever led soldier, he no less profited in the study of letters, then of arms: who first was a studente, before he would be a soldier, and after as occasion, or time, might serve him, would visit the schools, or Universities, of poets, and marching still, or travailling, would writ, or read some thing. On a time being at Alexandria in Egipte, the better to save himself, being in mernailous danger, skilled in swimming, committed himself to the water, through which he carried in one hand, the books, which he had written, giving others to understand, that he no less held them dear to him, them his life, having no less care to save the one, than the other: and what he had profited, in the study of good learning, his commentaries, which he hath left us sufficiently witness. And not only Caesar, but all th'other Emperors, verify the same, which we here have reported, which also were for the most part, good captains, and governors: who also when so ever they were enriched with children, acquainted them strait, and out of hand with their books, providing them excellent masters, and learned men out of Grece. Very few know, what men the two Cato's were, how valiant in Martial exploits, what grave, and wise Philosophers. Censorinus the great, so vowed himself to study, that what he was and how he profited, his writings yet do witness: he was an worthy Orator, and well skilled in histories, universally learned, in all studies, and sciences, the Greek tongue he began in his old, and stooping age. The other surnamed Vticensis, though he were in deed less subtle, and sharp witted, yet sought he to have with him, such as he could find any where, the best learned, among whom he retained the Philosopher Antipater, and so gave himself totally unto his study, that as Cicero reporteth in his books de finibus, he hardly might be drawn at any time, from his papers, in such sort, that he never entered into the Senate, without some book to busy himself, if he happily might have there so much leisure. Scipio Africanus that triumphed over Hannibal, was so enamoured with the study of good learning, that he never left to have, the Poet Ennius with him: and after all his wars, and triumphant victories, gave himself most earnestly, to continuance of reading. Hannibal his competitor, though he were in deed of Africa, had not withstanding his books, in his tents continually with him, neither would he in time of war intermit, or leave any time fit for study, but in what place so ever he came, yea, though some dangers were imminent, yet would he retain with him still, Silan and Sasilas, all both Lacedomoniens, by means whereof, he become right learned in the Greek. We have also tofore said, that Denis the tyrant, retained with him the divine Plato for master, and that he also held with him, many others well learned. Who after he was banished, and chaste out of his country, one in derision, boldly boarding with him, demanded in what steed, his Philosophy, sometime learned of Plato, now stood him. To whom he answered, that it very well then served him, patiently to support, and endure that his adversity. Themistocles also that excellent captain, had in arms, and in study, like, and equal pleasure, he continually conferred with Anaxagoras the Milesian. Epaminondas with these others, captains of Grece, were all very studious and eloquent Orators. Mithridates in all his wars, which by the space of forty years, he had continually with the romans, never left or forsook, by means of any the force, or fury of his enemies, his wonted pain or labour in study. He also as the others, had sundry Philosophers with him. Octavian Augustus assigned to himself, certain hours in the day, for his study, neither left he that his wont, in the time of war, leading with him to that purpose, sundry excellent personages, as Apollodorus of Pergamon, the Philosopher Asperarius, Asimius Polion, Valerius, Messala, Virgil, ovid, and many such others. Before this Emperor was Lucius Lucullus, a most excellent, and famous captain, which never left, or abandoned in time of war his study, and in time of peace, gave entertainment, to greet troops of the learned. Paulus Emilius, that subdued the king Persius, besides that himself, was in good letters most excellent, did his pain to the uttereste, that his children should be like him, so that at his incessant, and most earnest suit, he obtained in the end Metrodorus of the Athenians, a master to instruct, and bring up his children. But to what end name I so many here by order? Pompeius, Q. Fabianus the great, M. Brutus, Traianus, Adrianus, M. Antonius, were all very studious, whose books, letters, and orations yet ertante, witness what the men were, of what judgement, and learning. In fine therefore, if I nothing be deceived, few good captains ever were there, that were not addicted to the study of good letters. How be it, two there were of whose learning, we nothing can find, or read any where, to weet, Caius Marius, and Marcus Marcellus: Marcellus never the less, as some record, loved, favoured, and defended each where the learned, so that we may presume, that he also was lettered, though in deed (as is said) we no such thing, have yet found written and yet of part it well appeareth, that he thoroughly was not unlearned, by his wise defence of Archimedes, at the sacking of Siracusa: although in deed, he yet suffered not without the great grief, and sorrow of Marcellus. Let then the captains of this our age say, what them best liketh, and that, to be well lettered, is a thing less necessary, but I to them will say, and to such, as that maintain, that they obstinately seek to cover, their foul default, and ignorance. We read again that our elders, in no respect less esteemed, the books of the learned, than the force, or puissuance of infinite their captains, affectioned also to study, and to learning, aswell remembreth Robartus Valturinus, in his hook, of the stratagemmes of war.   

¶ Of a strange medicine, where with Faustine the wife of M. Aurelius was cured, languishing, and consuming with infinite, and extreme passions, of unchaste, and disloyal love, as also of some things remediing the said passions. Chapt. 9  
THat, that affection, or prison of the mind, which ordinarily we term by the name of love, is a passion so vehement, and of so great force, we need only to consult, but with those that have felt it, with those I mean, whose examples are notorious, honourable, great, and stately personages, which so far herein, suffered theimselues to be carried away, that some of them have languished, and died of that folly. julius Capitolinus, among many other examples, remembreth, that which chanced to Faustine, daughter to Antonius, wife to the Emperor M. Aurelius, which become enamoured of a certain sword player, or fensor, in such sort that for the only desire, that she had to use his company, wasted, and consumed, death even at hand with her. Which thing understood, as also the cause thereof, by Aurelius, he assembled great numbers incontinently, as well of Physicians, as also of Astronomers, with them to consult, if it were possible for some remedy. Among whom in fine, this was the conclusion, that the Fensor secretly should be done to die, of whose blood a good draft was presented unto Faustine (so covertly that she neither knew whence it was, or what) with this determination, that immediately after she had received it, the Emperor should acquaint himself in wonted manner with her. This remedy as it seemeth very strange, and marvelous, so clean did it altar, her fond and foolish fantasy, in such manner, that she never after, at any time remembered him, and as it is, in the said history recorded, at that time he begat on her Antonius Comodus, which after proved so cruel, and bloody, that he more resembled the above said sword player, whose blooodde the mother drank, at the time of her conception, than the Emperor whose son he was, by means whereof also the fore said Comodus would ever more be conversant, and in company with Fensors, which also witnesseth Eutropius in the life of this Commodus. The Physicians of Grece, as also of Arabia, account this disease, or torment of love, among th'others the most dangerous infirmities of man's body, providing sundry salves, & remedies therefore, for it. Cadmus' the Milesian, as reciteth Suydas hath written one whole book of the only remedies to chase & remove love. ovid also hath well said in his books de remedio amoris. And among other helps, which the Physicians have prescribed against this frantic malady, one is, that unto those, troubled with these passions, great weaghty matters, and affairs of importance be offered, such as equally concern both their profit, and their honour, to the intent that the mind busied about these matters, may alienate and strange itself, from the imagination that offendeth: they also give in rule, that such should abstain from all wanton toys, of either dainty, or dalliing damsels. Pliny saith that against this passion it shall 
Pliny lib. 13.  be good to take that dust, or powder, whereon a Mule hath in any place waltered or soiled herself, sprinkling or casting the same on the amorous: or as Cardanus will in his book of subtleties, to rub him, with the sweat of a Mule heat, and well chafete. The Physicians also learn us, how we shall know the party, on whom the amorous, is at any time enamoured, and the same rule is it, by which Erasistratus Physician to the king Seleucus, understood of the disordinate love of Antiochus towards his mother in law, the Queen Stratonica. For being extreme sick, and in marvelous danger, having chosen rather to die, then in any wise to utter the cause of his torments, proceeding of love only, which he bore to his father's wife, who then entering in to the chamber, when the Physician felt the pulse of his unhappy patient, which so vehemently, on the sudden moved, a● the coming of the Queen, that Erasistratus forthwith perceived, that he on her was enamoured, and she the only and sole cause of his grief. By mean where of he did his busy pain, in good order to advertise the king here of, which matter how he handled would be long here to writ, and the history beside is well known, and common, which thing as soon as it was once known to the father, seeing the danger be presently was in, if no remedy were then provided, contented himself (though it far was beside the intention of the son, which rather, did wish, or choose any shameful death, then by the detriment of his father, to purchase him health) to forego, and leave the Queen, giving her for wife to his tormented son. And here also, to speak the truth, both the age, and beauty of this dame, as also the marriage which after followed, was much more comformabie in the son, than in the father. By means whereof Antiochus lived many years afterward, in great joy, & wealth with his dearelibeloved Stratonica. The history is very pretty, written by plutarch in the life of Demetrius, whence it is, that in such cases, Physicians give in commandment to feel the pulse of the passionate party, rehearsing, and remembering the names of many, and among them the party also beloved, whose name when so ever, it shall in any sort be uttered, the pulse of the amorous will then more busily skip, or dance, then at any other time, and this easily may you find still the party so beloved. By many other signs, it also is evident, either when one loveth, as also where, or whom, which I leave to speak of, as sufficiently known to all men.   

Who first did set or plant the Vine, who also did first to drink water in wine, to whom also, and how the romans first of all forbade the use of wine, with some other things concerning this purpose. Chap. 10.  
OF all kind of fruits, which the earth produceth (these I understand where of we make lycors) none is so profitable in mine advice as is the Vine, so that he be moderately, and with discretion used. For which cause only Anacrases said, that the Vine giveth or presenteth unto us three grapes: the first of pleasure: the second of drunkenness: the third of tears, mourning and sorrow, in such sort, that who so passeth the first grape, to weet a little wine, moderately, and seldom, in taking it receiveth great shame and damage. Our profane authors, that never were acquainted with, or ever heard of the scriptures, devise, and imagen sundry inventors of wine. Diodorus Siculus, in his fourth book attributeth as well the invention of wine, as also that he first found to plant or set the Vine, to Denis the son of jupiter, called otherwise Bacchus, and pater liber, so termed for the liberty and force of wine. For which cause they dedicated to him a Temple under the Capitol in Rome, where were celebrated these feasts, which they commonly called Dionisians, or Bacchanalia, very lassivious, and full of impudicitie. And that this invention was truly attributed to this Denis, Virgil well assureth it us, in his first entry, into his second book of Georgikes: although Marcianus Capellus affirm that he only skilled the Greeks to make wine. Others writ that it was Icarus father of Erigonus which first found the mean to make wine in Athens, where after ward being drounke▪ was slain of the people. In Italy they say that Saturn there first had wine, which he brought from out the Isle of Candia. plutarch writeth that Ar●us an Etruscian, enrichte France with the first Vine that ever was there. But the truth is that the first inventor of wine, was No, as also the first that ever was drunk, which witness (besides that which is red in the ninth of Genesis) Lactantius Firmianus and josephus 
Lac. li. 2. insti, divinarum. josep. li. 1. an●.  which No immediately after he issued out of the Ark, planted the Vine with his own proper hands, and drinking after, of the fruit thereof, was also first drunk: in which that his disease sleeping, he so discovered himself, that, that there betided him, which is written of him in Genesis. After this men léeking of this kind of liquor, drank it at first pure, and with out water: for as recordeth Pliny one named Stasius, was the first that did water 
Pliny lib. 7. cap. 5▪ 6.  into wine to qualify it. By mean whereof great good hath followed, with the preservation of health through out the whole world, for that wine so tempered hath his most excellent effects. Plato by Macrobius, in his second book recordeth, that wine taken moderately fortifieth the understanding, it augmenteth the puissance, force, and strength, it yieldeth the heart joyous, it taketh from man all sorroufull, and pensive imaginations. Pliny saith that the honest, and reasonable use of 
Pliny leb. 2●▪ cap. 1.  wine delayed, increaseth the force, blo●dde, and colour in man's face, the veins saith he, are strenghtned by wine, the sight sharpened, the stomach comforted, the appetite thence groweth, Urine also provoked, it hasteneth sleep, and disturneth Vomits, it purgeth melancholy, and rejoiceth the heart, & in fine profiteth in many other uses. Asclepiades the Physician hath written a whole book, of the only virtue of wine. Saint Paul writing to Timothy counseleth him to drink a little wine, the better to strengthen, and comfort his stomach. The Physicians use wine in many their medicines, for that wine will restoreth health, increaseth blood, it offendeth not any melancholy humours, it dissipateth and drieth ●eame, it moisteneth and fitteth choler to be purged. Plato introducing Socrates, commendeth wine saying, even as rain moderate giveth increase of all hearbaege, tempe steous inundations utterly destroying it: so wine with 〈…〉 ration rejoiceth man, and coumforteth his spirits, but coutrariwise, in abundance, scorcheth, and consumeth him. Among all other sweet, and pleasing odours, the smell also of wine is of the Philosophers commended, for that it addeth force (as is said) to the vital spirits, it is very subtle, and soon penetrateth: but what so ever is spoken or said any where of wine, that still is ment of wine moderately taken, and delayed. The ancient romans forbade the use of wine, to women as well, as also to children, as hath Valerius, writing the customs, 
●al. lib. 2. Pliny. lib. 14.  & laws of the romans. So that as Plime saith, that in those days, when Romulus reigned in Rome, a certain citizen slew his wife, for that she had drunk wine and although the murderer were immediately apprehended and taken, yet the Prince with out suit would pardon that offence. They esteemed it a fault so great and ignominious, to see a woman bouse, or drink wine, that as Fabian reporteth, a certain maid having stolen, the keys of a wine Seller, privily to have drunk or tasted there, of wine, was by famine done to die, even by her own parents, for that fault. For this cause men used to kiss women on the mouth, to feel, or perceive, if they had drink of wine. It is recorded, that N. Domician, being ordained, some times, a judge in Rome, deprived a woman there of her Dourie, for that she had drunk more wine, than was for her health either necessary, or convenable. Solomon in his proverbs prohibeteth wine, to kings as well, as also to there counsel, for that in drunkenness saith he nothing is kept socrette, or concealed: the poor man's cause also is then not considered of, or hard judgement at the least proceedeth then against him. We read not with standing, that it was permitted to the kings of Egypte, to drink wine, but that moderately, and by appointed measures. A●… R●mulus invited to a feast, would hardly see, or taste an● wine, for 〈…〉eth he must●… I determen of a great, and weighty matter. Auicenna saith, that who so giveth wine to a child to drink, heapeth one flaming fire on an other. Aristotle inhibiteth 
Arist. li. 7. pol.  wine to be given Infants, as also to all Nurses, that give suck of their bodies. Plato, by his laws, in his books de republica, though he seem in the first to aucthorise the drinking of wine, yet in the second saith, man must drink little wine, well drowned in water, and that also in no wise before he be eightine years old, in the presence continually of old men until he be forty, to the intent that if he exceed, he receive punishment for his excess of them. But after that age he permitteth, that the quantity be of some part augmented, to mitigate, or assuage the coldness, and melancholy, of those years. How be it, his mind is, that a certain measure be prescribed them: farther he excludeth all servants of what age so ever, judges also, and magistrates, and such as have offices, or charge in the weal public. To students also he giveth in counsel, that they saver not of wine, and as concerning bondmen, the same order was also, observed of them in Rome. Auicenna accounteth Plato his laws, as good rules in Physic, with whom also accordeth Galene, in this matter. Alexander Aphrodiseus in his problems affirmeth, that those, that never drink, other liquor then water, have as well their sight, as all other their senses, more sharp, and fine, than they that drink continually wine. But how to water, and order our wine, there are sundry rules, and opinions: Hesiodus commandeth, that to one cup of wine, ye add three of water: Atheneus saith, that the ancient greeks, did five parts of water, to be mixed commonly with two of wine, and some times) which more was) three parts of water with one of wine, which accordeth with the rule of Hesiodus. And this may here be noted, that the Greeks never did to be poured water into their wine but wine continually, in small quantity, in to their water, by mean where of Theophrastus assureth us, that these two liquors are more perfectly meddled. And this did our elders, not only well drown, and water their wine, but drank there of also in very small quantity. Eubolus the Greek Poet, bringeth in Bacchus, speaking to the Elders or Sages of that age, I will give you to drink of wine, but three times at your refection, the first for health, the second for the good smell there of, the third to enforce sleep, how often so ever you more drink, it all savoureth of disorder, and drunkenness. Apuleus Paniasis, the same that wrote of the diversity of meats, is with the other, of one, and the same judgement, saying that ye may once drink incontinently after grace, the second cup moveth, or quickeneth in us Venus, the third is cause of shame, and dishonour. julius Caesar very seldom, would taste, or drink of wine, which thing Suetonius reporteth, by the testimony of Cato, the same I mean that was enemy unto Caesar. The excellent Demosthenes also, or few times, or never drank of any wine. Apollo Tianeus of whom so many things are so famously written, as he never did eat any kind of flesh, so also did he never drink any drop of wine. And among all Christians in these days temperancy in drinking is highly commended. Saint james the less, never drank in his life either wine or Ale, neither would he eat of any kind of flesh, imitating there in Saint John the baptist. The semblable find we of Fulgentius the Bishop, of Emeries also the son of Steven, king of Polonia. josephus in his antiquities highly extolleth 
josephus lib. 8. ant.  that virtuous modesty of the Esseiens (which were one of the three sects, that were among the jews, the Pharasies, and Saducees the other two) which as he saith never drank wine. In a certain Epistle Saint Hierome sharply reproveth Preestes, bousinge, or pleasing any thing at all in wine, adding that Saint Paul, adviseth them to the contrary, and farther saith, that in the old law, these that had charge, or office in the Church, never drank either wine, or other kind of liquor, that could, or might force them any way to lightness. Good pot men in these days, and gallant tasters, approve their wines by these four qualities, he must be delectable in mouth, to please the taste, he must smell well and far of, to content their rich Noses, he must be well coloured, pure, and neat to please the eye, and in fine it must have his commendation of the soil, to weet, that it came from a hot, and high country: and of this good wine they quickly can make vinegar, but of the commodities or discommodities hereof, I presently leave to speak more in this place.   

Of infinite discommodities, which take their springe of wine immoderately used, as also what Physicians they were, that thought it good, and medicinable, some times to be drunk. Chap. 11.  
THough Wine in some diseases both help and comfort nature, yet thence rise so many mischiefs, if it immoderately be taken, that the discommodities thereof pass, and surmount the commodeties, in such sort that it might seem better, we never had seen, or known it, contenting ourselves with water, which in the beginning was only given us: of part for that we can imagen nothing to be better: of part also, that all other creatures content themselves with the same. Consider we 
All creatures save man content them selves with water.  also, that by wine, sundry have lost the use of their senses, some their lives, some also all hope of salvation, and their souls. And although men well know the great inconveniences that betid them by wine, yet so far of be they from any intention to eschwe it, that they nothing so much seek, as continual occasions, to bouse, and drink incessantly, in such sort that few hours in the day may pass them, in which they kiss not the cup, at lest five or six times, not slightly, and for fashions sake, but with staring eyes gladly, and with right good devotion. Pliny writeth, that where as many eftsoons drink, neither for any need, or thirst thereto provoking them, that wine among all other liquors hath this nature, or propriety, that with ease it will be drunk, ye though you nothing need it. But afterward it handleth those, according to their demerits, paying them the pain, of that sin, and excess, the vapours thereof mounting aloft in to the brain, depriving them incontinently of the use of each their senses, resembling for the time, some dull and brutish beast, and after they at times, by use, have learned well to abuse themselves, this infirmity than taketh hold and full possession of them, and ordereth them as doth the hungry Cat the Mouse, I mean it either killeth them, or at least it chargeth them with infinite discommodities, and inevitable infirmities, torments much worse than present death in deed, as the Gout, the Palsy, both in hands and feet, the dropsy, the eyes stand staring full of bloody humours, the Liver inflamed, the face full of fire, and very richly coloured, the Nose full of rubies, with many other honest and pretty commodities, of very good grace, and much to be desired. Cato said, that drunkenness was a voluntary 
All creatures save man, content themselves with water.  folly: Pliny saith, that it dulleth, and weakeneth the memory: provoking dreams, very terrible, and fearful. Seneca writing to Lucullus affirmeth, that it meameth and féebleth both the arms, and legs, provoking men to lascivious thoughts, and venery. Deonisins' Areopagita, allegeth out of Plato, drunkenness to resemble, some lusty young dancer, whose thighs in the beginning are sore, hardly able to bear him, néedyng some staff, or croache to rest, or stay on, she also is well skilled, to allure, and draw unto her, with friendly face rejoicing, her drunken Soldiers daily. Saint Paul writing to the Ephesians, advertiseth them to fly, and to forsake wine, the spring, and beginning of all unchaste living. Solomon also, who so drinketh wine in abundance, and excess, never keepeth counsel or secret, what so ever. Whence grew for just cause, this old, and ancient Proverb, wine runneth without shows, to weet secretly, privily, pleasantly, hardly seen, or perceived, shamefully discovering man's foul, and vicious appetites. To this purpose; the Poet Eschilus' also said, that as in a glass is sien, the true fewture of the body, so also is sien in wine, the affections of the mind. Plato saith that wine maketh plain, and evident demonstration of the manners, and conditions of all men. Hence have we good examples, in No both and in Loath: for the one being drunk, discovered his secret parts, whence he become infamous to all men: and Sodom against Loth had at all no power, whom wine notwithstanding, not hardly after conquered, blinding him, to abuse his own natural daughter. Behold here the fruits then and forces of wine. Among the laws of Solon, one of the seven wise men, or sages of Grece, it was ordained, that what prince so ever, was found or known drunk, should therefore immediately be executed to death. Pitacus also decreed, an other of the said sages, that who so being drunk, committed any offence, should assuredly receive double punishment there fore, once for the trespass, and fault by him committed, and the second time for his drunkenness, the cause of the wrong doen. Aristotle in his problems giveth a reason, why such as are given to wine, are less able in the act of generation: as also an other, why among such as are drunk, some be pleasant, some sorry, some joyous, some terrible. Some Physicians also are there, among whom I only remember Auicenna, and Rasis, which affirm it to be a thing very medicinable, and wholesome, at times to be drunk, though not ordinarily, and commonly: but their reasons, wherefore, nothing at all content me, by means whereof, I utterly refuse to be of their opinion. And where as divers honourable personages have been subject to wine, had they assuredly forsaken, that there wonted use in bousing, their glory, and renown had so much been the greater. Alexander the great was taxed of this vice, so that as some good writers, have lest us plainly of him, he did in these his cups, sundry his friends to death, and afterward repenting him, of that his rage, and malice, would for revenge have slain also himself, and surely it may be thought, that by means of these his tyrannies, he in the end also was traitorously empoisoned. Marcus Antonius, one of the three pillars of the Roman empire, having espoused the sister of Octavian, pleasing to much, as the other also in wine, consequently acquainted himself with Cleopatra Queen of Egypte, by means where of in fine, he both lost his life, and also the empire, first vanquished by wine, and after by Octavian. The Emperor Tiberius, as in him were many, and sundry great defaults, yet none so much annoyed him, as that he to much loved excess of wine, & drinking, whence in place of his name Tiberius, was eftsoons in derision, of many called Biberius, ending at the last an infortunate and wretched miser. Denis the younger, tyrant of Sicilia, so much was given to excessive drinking, that he become blind, in both eyes unprofitable. Cleomedes King of the Spartiens, practising to imitate the Scythians in bousing, and did so valiantly by his lusty quaffing, that he proved in the end, a senlis, and lothsum monster. It is reported that the Philosopher Archesilas died of drunkenness, and no other malady. The Poet Anacreon was also a great drinker, and in drinking was chockte with the Pepin of a grape, which entered by the wrong way or passage through his throat. The Bishop Flavius, renowned for his learning, reporteth that Bonosus so pleased in wine, that Aurelius would say of him, that he was not borne to live but to drink: and herein he far exceeded all others, for when so ever he drank, or else in what quantity, he never thence was seen, or drunk, or less advised. But it may be supposed, that he passed it again in urine, as fast as he received it, how be it in the end, he escaped not the pain of his excess, and malice, for that being vanquished of Probus, was in most shameful, and loathsome manner hanged. Some also writ, that the king Antiochus, which was, maugre his beard, subdued by the romans, so much given, to strong wines, and feasting, that he spent the greater part of his time in sleeping: by means whereof, he committed almost the whole government of the Empire, to two his chosen, and very trusty dear●yn̄ges, himself banqueting, and disporting still, with a certain young damosel, so that when after he should meet in field with the romans, his army was strait disordered, & he an effeminate captive. Eschilus' the poet also did please in drink, by means whereof Sophocles left not to say unto him, Eschilus' these things, that thou hast said, and done, have only passed thee by hap, and by fortune, and by no knowledge that thou haste, or aught that thou understandest.   

¶ Of certain great personages, which died, called hence by those, which before themselves, unjustly had caused to be executed, even in the instant, and time to them assigned, as also some what of the archbishop of Magonce or Ments. Chap. 12.  
WHen the aid of man faileth those, to whom by man some wrong, and grief is done, God assuredly notwithstanding, never leaveth to assist them: and although it chance not at such times, so soon, and so apertly, as percase some would, or could in heart desire, yet God that knoweth when, and how, he should avenge him, on those that have unjustly oppressed, or wronged the innocent, so worketh that at times such treacheries come to light, and eke man's false judgements, to his heavy condemnation. Whereof we could remember many true, & strange examples, among which we read of a certain knight, of the house of the Templiers, executed as is supposed, very unjustly: this knight an Italian, borne in Naples, beholding as he paste to the place of execution, Pope Clement the fift of that name, advanced in a window, as pleasing in this spectacle, which only did this sentence, to pass against him wrongfully, and nigh to him Philippe, surnamed belus, king then of France, said to him with a high, and loud voice incontinently: O thou cruel, and merciless Clement, for as much as in the world, none other judge is, to whom, from thy unjust sentence, I might appeal, I appeal yet from thee, and from thy great injustice, unto him that all seeth, that true, and upright judge jesus Christ the righteous, before whom I thee assomen, as also the king there (at whose suit, thou hast sentenced me to death) to appear in person both, before his tribunal seat, there to receive, as ye by me have deserved, without favour, or perciallitie, without respect of persons, and that also within the space, of one year following. And so it came to pass, that as he there had cited them, the Pope died, just at the time appointed, as also the king to hold the other company. Which thing assuredly, only proceeded, from the inscrutable judgements, and justice of God. The semblable also happened, to Ferdinand the fourth king of Castille, which also did to death, two other worthy knights, of pretenced malice, not having any shadow, or pretext at all of justice whom no sorrowful tears, or often supplications could, or might deliver, from the bloody miser. In fine therefore arresting, without more, on this extremity, cited the king in like manner, as before, within thirty days folowng, to appear before that judge, the last of which in deed, he made change of life for death, and so departed hence. Such was the hap also, of a captain, of certain galleys, of the town of Genua, of which Baptista Fulgosius, in this sort reporteth, that he took a little Boat, or Bark of Catelongna, in which also was an other, or captain, or gentleman, which never had done to the inhabitants of Genua any wrong, or injury, nevertheless, for that private malice, that this captain of Genua, bore to the Catelanes, commanded that he should incontinently be hanged, who mournfully besought him, not to do him that, or any so great villainy, for that he never had offended, nor him, ne yet his country, but finding in the end no kind of grace, or favour, his last recourse was unto the divine justice, saying to this cruel, and to this merciless captain. that sith he needs would take his life, for no cause from him, that he then presently appealed, for justice unto God, assummoning also him, with him that day to appear, before the judicial seat, or throne of the most highest, to yield to him account, of that his great injustice, in which same day as the others, this captain also died and past to played his cause, in the true court in deed of justice, where as well may be presumed, such was his reward, as his treachery had deserved. I could here longer devil, in others like to these, but for a final example, I will one, only, more, remember you, no less perchance strange, then very true, and certain, which happened at Magonce in Almaignie, troubling, & disordering the whole state of that city, as briefly remembreth Gontier the Poet, in his description of the life, and geastes of Frederick the Emperor, the first of that name, as he recordeth. The bishop Contadus in his history also recordeth it, as also Henry the sixth, son to the said Frederick. In this fore said town then, of Ments, or Magonce, in the year of our Lord a thousand, a hundred, fifty, or some thing more, there dwelt an archbishop, who had to name Henry, a man for his virtues, of all men each where renowned: this archbishop then as become a good pastor, punished sin, and vice severely, with a special regard to his flock, and charge, true servant unto GOD, and friend unto his neighbour: by occasion whereof, some libertines, and enemies of God's honour, began to malice, & to envy his estate and condition, so that he was accused of evil demanure before the Pope, and said to be less worthy, of such an office, or honour, charging him with many open, and slanderous infamies, which understood by the Pope, although in truth, he thought him to be both just, and virtuous, yet would he not deny audience, to those that craved it, and having heard their plaint, advertised thereof incontinently the Archbishop. By means whereof, the better, to discharge, and purge him, he chose out among his friends, such a one as he loved most, for whom also he had done, more than for any other, this was a Priest, or Prelate, and had to name Arnoulde, highly advanced, to sundry dignities, by the bishop. This Arnoulde now was rich, eloquent, and learned, and being entered into Rome, suborned by the devil, determined on a sudden, to deprive his lord, and master, enriching himself with that honour, if it were possible: which thing the better to accomplish, with great sums of money, he corrupted two impious, and two accursed Cardinals, before whom (to the hearing of this cause deputed) in place to have spoken the truth, as both faith, and loyalty willed, he uttered against him, what so he falsely could imagine, saying, that he more stood bound to god, & to the truth, then in any wise he was, or could be unto man, and therefore must needs confess, that the bishop in deed was such, as he to be was accused: by means whereof, the Pope, as abused by this Arnoulde, sent unto Magonce, these two honest Cardinals, there to deprive, and remove the Archebishope, which being arrived, caused by prorses this good man to appear before them, whose matter was there in such order handled, that sentence was there in fine pronounced against him, deprived of that honour, and of that postorall dignity, in whose room this Arnoulde, was presently then substituted, which so had sold his master, as judas did our saviour: at which sentence uttered, the archbishop said, God knoweth that I am unjustly here condemned, how be it, I mind not to appeal from this your sentence, for that I surely know, that you sooner shall be credited though liars, than I in truth, wherefore I receive this sentence, a punishment for my sins, appealing never the less from you, unto the eternal judge, before whom, I assomon you all three to appear, at which words, these Prelates burst out into a laughter, saying: that when so he went before, they incontinently would follow him. This chanced in the year of man's redemption, a thousand, a hundred, fifty and six, which wrong this good priest took very patiently, withdrawing himself into a certain monastery, where he observed the strait rules of that order, without any cowl, or habit religious. But to conclude, God never long permitteth such treachery, and injustice any where unpunished, to the intent especially, that the innocency of the just, might the better always be known. One year and a half after this, this Henry died very virtuously in his Abbey, mounting strait into heaven, as may well be presumed. News hereof was brought, and of his death to Rome, whereat these two Cardinals, forthwith began to ieaste, either charging other, to seek and search out the archbishop according as they had promised. And behold immediately, or within very few days afterward, the one of them was so bruised, by mishap of his own servant, that his bowels, and entrails burst out at his fundament. The other fell mad incontinently in such extremity, that he broke his bones, eating, and devouring his own wretched carrion, and as concerning Arnoulde, in recompense of his disloyalty, and seditious tumults, which he most carefully fostered each where among the people, he become so odious, and loathsome to the multitude, that about that time, they also environed him, shut up into a monastery, where in fine they took him, and mangled him most miserably, casting his carrion into the ditch of the city, where it lay full three days following, all the people, as well women, as men, doing to it, though dead, the most villainy that was possible,   

¶ Of a pretty guile practised by a virtuous, and good Queen, towards her husband, by means where of, I ames King of Arragon was begotten, and of his birth, and death. Chapt. 13.  
IN the old Chronicles, or annals of Arragon, it is recorded, that the Lord Peter Count of Barcelon, afterward by succession, the seventh king of Arragon, received in marriage the lady Marie, daughter to the Earl of Mont Pesulin, nephew to the Emperor of Constantinople, a lady no less fair, then virtuous, and honest. The king notwithstanding, who pleased much in variety of concubines, and therefore less forced of this fair, and virtuous lady, not using her company, as reason would he should have done, ministered to her occasion, of great annoy, and sorrow, and especially for that, the king had then no issue to inherit, and succeed, in that kingdom after him. Wherefore by the means, of one, of the kings own Chamberlains, which also perhaps, had served him in other such like affairs, she was conveyed unto him, though under the pretext, and name of an other, where having used his company, to her full contentation, and the king perceiving, that it drew towards day, commanded her to withdraw herself, for the saving of his honour: but she said, my husband, and my lord, I am none such as you suppose me to be, but am your wife, your obedient, and your lawful bedfellow, do me what pain, or sorrow, shall best like you, for assuredly I will not depart out from your company, before you do to be called, some one of sufficient credit, that may if need be, witness, that I alone this night, was with you, and with none other, to the intent, that if it please God, to grant me, to be with child by you, which is my sole, and only desire, that the world than may know, that it also is yours. The king considering of her honest guile, was (though in deed he thought, that he had been served otherwise) contented to satisfy that her expectation, and did to be there of witnesses, two honest, and sober gentlemen. Now so it came to pass, that this virtuous dame, within short time after, knew well she had conceived, and at the term by account, well answering to this purpose, was delivered of a son, the first day of February, in the year of our Lord, a thousand, a hundred ninety, and six, which as soon as he was borne, the Queen commanded immediately, that he should be carried to the Church, and incontinently as they (which is to be considered) to whom this charge, was carefully committed, were on the point of entry into the Church, or Temple, the priests assuredly less witting of any such matter, began to sing Te deum laudamus, in most solemn manner. And thence departing afterward with the said child, unto an other Church, they also not knowing of any such gehaste coming, even as he entered began that Psalm of Benedictus dominus deus Israel, which was a marvelous sign, and assured presage, of the great virtue, and bounty, that should be in the young prince. And the King and Queen, not knowing now what name they best might give him, did to be lighted twelve Torches of equal length, and bigness, lotting to every of them, the name of an Apostle, with this determination, that the name of that Torch, that first should be consumed, should be given to this Prince, for name at his Baptism: and the first that failed, was that of saint james. So afterward then baptized, they gave him james to name, he was an excellent Prince, in peace no less wise than valiant, and fortunate in all affairs of war. His invasions, and incursions were terrible against the Moors, he was large, and liberal at all times to his soldiers: and among others his notable attempts, he levying on a time a great, and gross army, passed into the Isle of Maiorque, which then was only inhabited of the Moors, where he fought many, both bloody, and dangerous battles, but after he there long had besieged their principal city, in th'end won it, as all the other Isles adjoining nigh unto it, and in fine subdued all the other Moors, as also the city of Carthage itself. He had many children, as well sons, as daughters, which all while he lived, he advanced to great and mearueilous honours. The Prince Peter was after him king also of Arragon, james king of the Isles Maiorque, and Minorque, his third son was archbishop of Toledo, the lady Yollant, was espoused to the king of Castille, the lady Isabeau, to the king of France, the lady Vrroque, to the lord Emanuel prince also of Castille, and the prince Peter in his father's days espoused the daughter of the king of Navar. This king lived seventy and two years, and died then virtuously, and in his death bed chose to him, the habit of a religious man, renounsing his kingdom, and his royal sceptre, with assured determination, if he ever had recovered of that malady, to have employed the residue of his days in the sole service, and veneration of God: but his pains growing, and doubling continually, he gave over unto nature, in the town of Valence, in the year of our lord God, a thousand, two hundred, sixty and six, in the beginning of the month of August.   

¶ Of an ancient and strange custom, observed by the inhabitants, of the Province of Carinthia, at the coronation of their prince: as also how they sharply punished thieves. Chapt. 14.  
POpe Pius, the second of that name, a man no less learned, then painful, and still busied in ancient histories, when he lived, reporteth in his cosmography, or description of the world that the province of Carinthia is enclosed, within the territory, and signory of Austria, & saith that the inhabitants there, at the coronation of their prince, used a very strange, and pretty custom, which also is remembered by A. Sabellicus in his tenth Decade, as also by Sebastianus Munsterus, in his new cosmography. In this Province of Carinthia, there is a great plain, of very old, and ruinous bulidynges, as if the were the steps, or monuments of some ancient city, in which also standeth a certain great stone, whereupon (at the coronation of their new duke, the day and time appointed) a husband man, or labourer incontinently ascendeth, unto whom that office by inheritance belongeth. On his right hand standeth, nigh to him a black Cow: and on his left, a lame, a weak, and an ill favoured Mare. Round about the stone, standeth a great heap of clounes, or country carels. Then cometh the Duke on, with a great number on horseback, all in very good, and in decent order, having twelve ensigns borne there before them, of which one is more large, and more apparent than the others, which is borne by a certain Earl there, by especial privilege: so now approacheth this Archduke, clad like a shepherd, unto the stone, where as is placed this carel, who incontinently crieth out with a loud and haute voice, demanding what he might be, that cometh in such pompous, & in such proud array? to whom the others answer, that stand there about him, he is the Prince, and governor of this country. Then thundereth out this villain, as hard as he may possibly: is he a judge righteous? will he do justice to all men? will he seek the advancement, and commodity of the country? will he defend it, and save it from the enemy? Is he a free man, and of a free house borne? Is he valiant, and worthy of honour? Is he a true christian man, and will he defend the faith? They all answer yea, he is, and ever shall be. Then beginneth he again a fresh to demand: by what right may he dispossess me of this place? Then answereth the Earl, that bore that best ensign, thou shalt receive for this thy place, sixty Ducats of gold, this Cow also, and Mare, in like sort shall be thine, also the Prince's robe, which he last of all did of, finally thy family, and kin shall all be free, from all kind of taxes, or payments, what soever. This carel than giveth the Prince, a small buffette on the cheek, admonishing him to be an upright, and a virtuous judge, and so leaving the stone, giveth place unto the duke, carrying thence with him his cow, and his Mare. Then alighteth the Duke from his horse, and goeth up on the stone, where having a sword naked in his hand, brandishing it, turneth to every part of the stone, promising to minister true, and indifferent justice to all men. This done, one bringeth him water to drink, out of a poor labourers, or housebandmannes' cap, whereof having tasted, he descendeth incontinently, thereby making show, that he utterly condemneth th'use of wine. Then taketh he his horse again, and with him all his company, passing thence to some Church, where they hear Mass, after which he dispoileth himself, of his raged, and ill favoured robes, putting on him apparel of Princely estate, and honour, then dineth he, and his nobility, in most sumptuous manner, after which he returneth to the said stone again, hearing the complaints, and griefs of all men, doing them justice, without partiality. And these are the Ceremonies observed, in the creation of this Duke. another custom have they, in the punishing of theft, which is no less cruel, then in truth unjust, especially to be used among christian men: for having any small suspicion, or surmise in this case, against any man, they do him immediately to death, without any farther trial, and the third day after, they examine the witnesses, & all such as can in that case give evidence, as diligently, and as straightly as they can possibly: so as if that in th'end, he in deed be thereof found culpable, then hangeth he on the gibbotte, until he rot of by pieces: but contrary wise, if they find him innocent, then take they him thence, honouring him with glorious, and with solemn obsequies, with many prayers also, & almose, for his soul's health. And as those of Carinthia, dealt this straightly with their thieves, so also some other Countries, have done their pain to foster them, as the Egyptians, of whom A. Gel. concerning 
Lib. 11. nocti. Atticarum.  this matter writeth. Also the Lacedemoniens, which permitted their children to rob, and steal every where, to the intent they might be the more hardy, and apt there to in war. How be it Draco, that gave laws to the athenans, ordained that all kind of theft what so ever, should be punished with none other pain, than death: by means whereof, Solon after said, that he had written that his law with blood, which he mitigated, doing it to be more easy, and favourable. That manner, which now is ordinarily each where used, to hung, or to strangle thieves on the gibbotte, was first ordained ●y the Emperor Fredrick the third, as writeth that famous, and excellent L. Vives, in the seventh book of his disciplines.   

¶ In what part of the Zodiac the Sun, and the Moon, as also the other planets, were in the creation of the world, and when the first were made, of the beginning also of years, and times. Chapt. 15.  
AS saith the Philosopher, man naturally is curious to search, & to know things, and there to bendeth he his full force, and endeavour, less contenting himself with these things, which only concern him, but farther he toileth with marvelous presumption, to have some feeling, of things impossible, or at least very difficile. Neither hath this his labour, been all together in vain, though it some times have also failed, of the desired end, for that by incessant contemplation, and continual study, sundry things have been found out, which seemed both supernatural, and impossible, as the motions of the heavens, the true course both of stars, and Planets, their influences, and forces, with others the like, and semblable: among which is also comprised, that which I now must speak of, to wete, in what time of the year, and in what day, the world first began, or to speak it better, when, or at what season, God first created the world: where time thirst began, and the year to be accounted, in what place the Sun was, when he first began his course, the Moon also with the other planets, Aristotle as with him, many other Philosophers, past these scruples, accounting never on them, not tasting at all, or savouring of our faith, deeming that the world had been in deed eternal, never to have begun, or, never to have ending: but these others, that were not ignorant of these things, knowing by just account, when the world first did begin, are divided into two sundry, and contray opinions. Some among them said, that in that very instant, when the world first was created, the Sun was precisely in the first degree of Aries, which was aequinoctium Vernale which happened at that time, in the eleventh of March. But others again contrary, that the world had his beginning, the Sun being found directly, in the first of Libra, which time we call aequinoctium Autumnale, and commonly chanceth in the thirteenth, or fowertenth of September. And of this opinion, were certain Egiptiens, Arabies, and Greeks, as recordeth Linconiensis, in a certain treatise of his, dedicated to Pope Clement, and Vincentius in his mirror historical. Those that rested on this opinion, for their proof used this reason, which how weak it is, and what small show of troth it hath, shall be here after, in place convenient said: For say they, all fruits on the earth were ripe now, and in their perfection, the earth of very necessity, was then also most perfect, alleging for their proof, these words 
Deute. 32.  out of Deuteronomie, God in the beginning made all things absolute, and perfect. Others some again affirm, that then was the first beginning, both of times, and years, when the day was of most hours, and at his longest, which is at the entry of the Sun into Cancer, about the eleventh, or twelfth of june. julius Firmicus, an author ancient. and of great authority in Astronomy, saith in the beginning of his third book, that in the first creation of the world, the Son was in the fifteenth degree of Leo, in which sign he hath his greatest dignity, or honour, especially for that it is termed, the house of the Sun, and in this sort discourseth he of the other Planets. But the most reasonable opinion of all others, and most agrean●e assuredly unto the truth, is that, when both the world, and the heavens, were first made, the Sun was then found in the first point of Aries, which might be in the month of March, the Summer then beginning to come, and grow on. Which assertion (besides other likelihoods, that we also shall remember) is also confirmed by the most part of ancient writers, as well Christians, as also Heathens, among which, we find Saint Hierome, Ambrose, and Basill, with others, which all together accord, that the first beginning was, as is above said, in aequinoctio veris. And although it might appear, that there was yet some little difference betwixt them, for that some will, that this work was wrought in March, but some a little after, in the month of April. Yet here on they well agreed, that it was in the Spring, as also in the Equinoxe which presently is in March, for, as is said, the Equinoxe is not ever firm. For Christ himself died the xxv day of March, and at that time, was the day, even with the night, and now this equation, is but about the eleventh of March, whence it well may be presumed, that in the beginning, it was in April. For which cause some, accounted April for the first month, other some March, & yet they all will say, that then this frame was wrought when that the Sun first entered into the sign of Aries, and that than is this Equinoxe, which well is proved by the scriptures, where it is said, that in the month Nisan, which with us is March, the year began to have his first day of account. Vincent also in the beginning 
Exodus. 12.  of his mirror historical saith, that the ancient hebrews, began their year in the month of March, for that then was the Equinoxe, saith he, whence, and from which time, the world took his beginning. Certain Gentiles also, defend, and maintain, with like care this opinion, as Elpaco in his treatise, written of Astrology, where he saith that the Chaldeans, excellent Astronomers, supposed that the first day, in which the world was created, the Sun entered into the first degree of Aries, which opinion is maintained of most part of Astronomers, as well ancient, as new, and late writers. When then the Sun was found in that point, than also was the beginning of the year: then also the first day, for before that was none other, neither can it be denied, but that the first day that was made, was also the first day in the account of years, for that before it was neither time, or years. For which cause only, this sign of Aries, is of all the others reckoned the first, and foremost. And who so will judge, and divine of things to come, he erecteth his figures, calculating continually, from that fore said point, or beginning of the world. And farther it is plain, by an evident conjecture, that God when he first created the wide, & waste world, that he then also placed the Sun (as is said) in Aries, as may well be gathered of that, which is foresaid, in the chapter, of the day and time, in which our saviour suffered, to weet, that this Planete was in that place, in the creation, that he also was in at the regeneration, when Christ himself suffered his death, and his passion, which happened, as is there said, in this Equinoxe, so often to fore remembered. It also seemeth credible, that it therefore was so, for that those that have any feeling in the sphere, or otherwise in Astronomy, shall well perceive, that the Sun being entered into this sign of Aries, making 
Or in the contrary point the first of Libra.  there his revolution, by the space of one whole day, no corner is on the earth, which he in that day ones, leaveth, or to comfort, or solace, with his presence, which at no time chanceth in any other points of the Zodiac, for that where soever he else be, some place is on the yeareh, where the Sun is not in that day seen: but being in this degree (as is said) or in his opposite, no part of the world is there, which in that day, once seeth him not. And it seemeth reasonable, that the sun when he first of all began his circuit, that he there, and in such place should begin, where he might visit every the parts of the whole world, and that, that, rather should be, in the first of Aries, then of Libra, it of part is evident by that, which we have said, that in the day of the death, or Passion of our saviour, this Planet was in that very same place, in which he also hath a certain particular dignity. Resting then on this point as on a truth assured, they doubtless are deceived, that imagined the world first began, in the Equinoxe of September, though it pleased them to say, that then all fruits were ripe, and in season, which if we well consider, is nothing so in deed: for when they are ripe in the north part of the world, they nothing at all, then are so in the south, but in very truth, and assuredly the contrary. For which cause, I neither would lean to the opinion of those, which said, that in this Equinoxe of March (which is in the same beginning, which we in deed approve) was, or aught to be, the entry therefore of the world, for that then, & at that time is the spring, for that flowers also, and grass each where then begin to come that then also all beasts, acquaint them with their match, for if it be to us, as it can not be gainsaied, the coming and beginning of all grain, and grass, it than is Winter, or at the least Autumn, to these that inhabit the south parts of the world. These than may suffice, with the authorities above remembered, to satisfy and content, the reasonable in this matter although the year Roman, which only now is used, take his beginning of the first day of januarie: which thing happened by the fond devotion, and superstition only, which the Gentiles used towards their God janus, doing their year to begin by his name, as the christians did theirs, from the nativity of Christ, although then in deed, the year had not his beginning. The romans also began their year in March, as writeth M. Varro, and Macrobius in his first book, ovid also in Fastis, with many others. Farther GOD showed to us his great favour, and goodness, in that it pleased him, to place our first parents, Eve and Adam, in these Septentrional parts of the world, after their exile, and detrution out of Paradise terrestrial, which both entered into this world, at the first coming of the Spring, finding the earth then green, and flowered, the air very sweet; temperate; and pleasant, the better to solas, and comfort them in their misery; and nakedness, which at none other time of the year, could so well have chanced them. But pass we this matter now, as sufficiently proved; and speak we of the other Planets, especially of the Moon, as one among the others of most force, and virtue, which as some suppose in the first day, or instant of her creation, was placed by divine providence, in conjunction with the Sun: others say that she was then at full, and in direct opposition Saint Augustine commenting on the fift of Genesis, remembreth both, these remembered opinions, saying: that they that maintain, that she then was in opposition, argue that it was not reason, in that her first creation, that she either should lack, or be defectuous in any thing. The others say that it is more credible, that she in conjunction began there her first day, so increasing, according to our account in her age: but to abridge this controversy, in mine opinion, she at her first being was in plain, and perfect opposition with the Sun, which opinion is most received of the learned. Augustine in the place above alleged, and Rabanus also on the twelfth of Exodus, arrest them both on this opinion, according with that which is red in the scriptures, where as it is said, that God made two excellent lights, the one to lend comfort, and brightness to the day, the other and the less, to shine in the night. But in that instant itself, when the Sun first appeared, he gave light on the sudden, to the one half of the world, so that in that half, it presently was day, the other being dark, and covered with the shadow of the earth. How be it, it seemeth reasonable, that on that other moiety of the earth, clad as is said with the night, and darkness, the Moon there should do her charge, and office, in illightning it, so as they both were created at one, and the same instant, so they both also might execute their office at one instant, the one giving light, and solace to the day, the other not obscuring, or darkening the night, evenso, and in such sort, as hath in deed the text, for than was verified that part of scripture, the whole world through lightened, both on the one side, and the other. And contrariwise, if the Moon then had been found in conjunction, than this common light could not have chanced, until fifteen days after, and farther three, or four days must also first have paste, before her light could have been seen, or perceived any where, and the same should have been a very small light also, as that which we see, when she four, or five days is of age. Wherefore these two in conclusion assuredly, gave light to the whole world, at one instant in the heginning. And again I say, the Moon then being in opposition with the Sun, of necessity had her being then in the contrary sign, in Libra, which thing thus standing, she executed that day, the effects of the Sun, visiting every part of the world, in that one days course, which to have done had been then impossible, had she been placed in any other part of the Zodiac, by means whereof this opinion hath more plain, and more evident show of truth, though julius Firmicus gladly would infer, that this Planette in her first creation, found her first place, in the fifteenth of Cancer, where in deed, she hath her greatest dignities, of which opinion is also Macrobius in his first book de somnio Scipionis. As concerning the other planets, it should be more difficile for me to utter herein a truth, then in any respect profitable, to him that would feign know it, for which cause I leave to devil here on, in many. How be it julius Firmicus, in his second book alleged, hardeneth himself to assign them their places, in which at the first, every of them was, as Saturnus in Capricorno, jupiter in Sagitario. Marsin Scorpione, Venus in Libra, Mercurius in Virgin, which are the signs, in which they have greatest force, and dignity, signs appointed to these planets, sore their houses. Of which mind herein, is also Elpacus, as well remembreth joannes Agricanus, in his summary entitled Agricane. Macrobius also in his book above alleged De somnio Scipionis, accordeth plainly with julius Firmicus, who lotteth to them, the same signs above remembered: although others some have supposed the contrary, and that they all in that instant, were in conjunction with the Sun, which opinion the Mouncke walterus, in his treatise of the ages of the world, affirmeth that the ancient Indiens held for most assured. But in truth I suppose, that GOD. so placed, and ordered these stars, each one in his place distant, and severed from other, not meeting in any conjunction with the Sun, to the intent that every of them in that first day, might with his glittering beams, give light unto the earth, which had been impossible for them to have done, if they had been in conjunction with the sun, for that being nigh unto him, within the space, I mean, of certain degrees, he so covereth, and drouneth their little light, that they or hardly, or not at all might have been seen from the earth But how, or in what sort, so ever it were being created, and framed, according to the will, and pleasure of GOD it sufficeth, saith Saint Augustine, that they were by him in any sort perfected, and framed.   

That men may take example of Birds, Worms, and other creatures, to live a just, and a virtuous life. Chap. 16.  
AS we have, above by occasion, some thing spoken of these creatures, though to some other intent, and purpose, so now shall we breflie, and in few speak, how their example may be profitable, to man's body no less, then to his understanding and mind. For assuredly who so diligently and attentively, will consider as well the nature, as the properties also of beasts, he thence shall not only take good instructions of life, for the better preservation, and maintenance of the body, but lessons also to frame, and perfect his manners. Whence is it that man liveth not in peace with his neighbour, seeing the ametie, and concord, of beasts together, how they accompany, and join in one, in every kind, defending themselves to their utterest, from the force of any other? How is it, that man shameth not, to live a trifling, and an idle loiterer, considering how painfully and busily the poor Ant toileth, in the summer gathering her provision and store for the winter? What subjects are they that do not true service and honour to their Prince, considering the true love, and obedience, of the little be towards her sovereign? Why take not these public weals, which have no Prince, but live in common, example to live quietly, with out grudge, or mutiny, of the foresaid little ants, which devil together in great multitudes, with good order, doing justice, each one, to the other? And Princes on the other side, why also advise they them not, with what lenity, and courtesy, they aught still to use their subjects especially when they behold the King of the Bees, for no cause to grieve or offend any of the others? Great Personages, and noble men, may learn an example of humility by the Camel, which then stoopeth, and kneeleth when he shall be charged. The good and loyal husband, may learn to school himself, in the rules of chastity, by birds, by the Turtell I mean and by the Dove, which both, the male, as well as also the female, for none other cause then death, what so ever, sever or disioigne, having once acquainted themselves together. Farther it is also written of the Turtle, that having once lost by any occasion her mate, that she never after chooseth, or lotteth to her any other. Saint Ambrose counseleth all virtuous widows to imitate this example of continency in the Turtle. And here in most beasts exceed us in perfection: among whom, as soon as the female hath once conceived, she never seeketh or desireth again, the male in long time after. They also serve us for examples in temperancy, for commonly they will eat no more than nature asketh, ne sleep they more, than necessity requireth. To defend maintain, and well to order our houses, to be merry, and liberal towards our family, and charge, the Cock well instructeth us in this place with his example: for he giveth out again of his own mouth meat to his hens, and farther to cherish, and keep them, leaveth not to expose himself to every kind of danger. The great obligation of all children to wards their parents, and in what sort they aught, both to serve, and secure them, the Stork most plainly, and most evidently showeth us, which lodge in their nests, foster, and provide for, their old, their weak, and their foible parents, as they by them were fostered and fed in their youth. Why shameth not man to faint through fear or timidity, considering the Lion's prowiss, and invincible courage? Faith, amity, with the perpetual recordation or memory of a good turn, rest, or devil continually in the dog, which never forgetteh his master, whom he hath served, loveth, and falloweth him, never leaving to be thanckful, for the bread, that he hath received. Man that would profit himself, by the use of an other man's goods, without his hurt, or damage, must so there in learn to order and bear himself, as doth the little be which draweth Honey out of the flowers without offence, or annoy, in any wise done to them. The order and mean that man should use, for the preservation of his health, is not only given us of one beast, but sufficiently of many, which know what food may annoy, or grieve them, changing from place to place, as occasion, and time of the year requireth, inhabiting places agreeing to their complexion, and nature, passing man here in, as also in all other things. Why refuseth man to learn, and to be instructed in these things, of which he is ignorant, having understanding, and every his senses? Why leaveth he any thing less assayed, or unatempted? the Elephante practiseth that which is taught him, the Dog by pain becometh skilful in many things, and the bird in fine by long watch, is taught to prate, or to speak. Who so hireth the Nighttingale with her diversity of notes, eke also many other birds like pleasant and sweet, how is it that he less pleaseth in the skille of music? Why practiseth not man to be exquisite in all kind of buildings, considering how artificially the little Swallow frameth to her a lodging, with what diversity of matter she fortifieth, and strenghneth it? What better proportion is used in Geometry, then that which useth the little poor Spider? what Astrologian divineth better of the change of weather than doth the Ant, or the fish which is called Vranoscopos (as hath Galen) whose eye so standeth, 
Vranoscopos a fish having but one eye.  that the evermore looketh upwards. Why prognosticate not men, and why judge they not of these matters? How many other excellencies, and perfections are in beasts, of which men have some learned, and daily yet do learn? The first invention to make holes, or passages through the earth, as also the first knowledge of that place to be habitable, man received at the beginning from the Badger and the Fox The manner, and fashion, to twist and make silk, man hath learned, and received of the little worm, which in latin is called commonly Seres, by means whereof we now twist will and other things. After this of the Spider, man also learned to spin thread, and of him to make Nets, to deceive, and take birds. Of beasts also hath man learned to swim in the water: for no one is there of them, that swimmeth not, but man naturally unapt thereto, by long pain some thing profiteth there in. How we by them are skilled: in some experiments in physic, is else where said, as also some what, of the alteration, and change of the weather: and yet on them feed we only, in our necessity, and hunger, in such sort that I know not how we possibly might leave them. Of their skin, hear, and wool we frame to us apparel, from strange countries they bring to us, what so we have need of, and being so necessary, force man there to seek them. They labour, and turn the earth, whence we reap our bread and most part of other fruits, so that they be the chief stay, and sustentation of man's life, and although they be over-laboured by us, beaten, and hardly used, yet never leave they to be obedient, to know, and to follow us. In battle oftentimes, they not only fight, but die for us, and in time of peace, they serve in every our uses. But speak we now how they profit, the mind, or the soul, a matter, than the other of greater weight, and importance. Now whence then shall man, take better, or more examples, for virtuous life, or perfection in manners, them he may from many, and sundry kinds of beasts? All these virtues, which philosophers have so carefully left us, are founded on similitudes, and parables of beasts: Orators to persuade draw from them comparisons, as also all others that have well, and eligantly written. GOD himself, and his saints, most usually in holy wréete, and most commonly instruct us, by the manners and conditions, of rude, and brute beasts, leading us to perfection, and integrity of life, willing man to be prudent, as is the Serpent, simple also as is the Dove, meek and gentle as is the Lamb, strong again and constant as is the Lion. This then by the examples, of mute, and dull beasts, we are taught to be men reasonable, and spiritual. We also find many offices, and estates of the Church, applied, and compared to beasts, according to their property. By the Ox (as hath Saint Augustine, on the second of John) are signified these that publish, and preach, the sacred scriptures. And according to this interpretation saith he, the Prophets, and the Apostles, were reputed as Oxen, but such as did labour, and husband our souls, sowing, and planting in them, the true word of God. Saint Paul, and also Solomon in his proverbs saith: thou shalt not mousell the mouth of the Ox that travaileth. The holy doctors and preachers of the word, which with their laws, and doctrine, govern, and defend the Church are eftsoons termed by the name of Dogs, which Saint Gregory affirmeth, writing on these words of job: Quorum non dignabar patres ponere cum canibus gregis mei. The same Saint Gregory, also moveth us to a contemplative life, if not for other cause, yet by that sole example, and imitation of the goat, which continually climbeth up, in to high and haute places, passing as it were there his time in contemplation, uttering to that purpose these words of Leviticus: out of the troup let the Goat be offered. And again he saith that the true preachers should imitate the Cock, grounding on these words of job, where he saith: who hath given intelligence to the Cock? adding, that as the Cock, so preach they, in the darkness, and in the shadow of this life, the light and comfort, of the life to come, waking us with their admonitions, and removing us from sleep, crying and saying continually with Saint Paul, the night is paste, and the day at hand. And an other saith, it is time that we arise, and forgeate again to sleep, look abroad ye just, and sin not. The true, the holy, and the immaculate Church, is semblably campared also to a Dove, for as hath Solomon in Canticis, O how fair, and beautiful art thou, O thy eyes, the eyes of a very Dove. Farther we see, that of four Evangelists, three of them were figured by three beasts. If I would devil longer in this matter, I should have much to do, and should percase weary also the reader. But above all other examples, that of our saviour, and redeemer, jesus Christ is notable, which also would be figured by a beast, as is evident by Saint John, in his Apocalypse saying: the Lion of the race of ●uda is victorious. And David in his Psalms saith, he is raised as a Lion: with many such others long to remember: as S. Matthew where he saith, O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, how often times would I have gathered thy children together, even as the Hen clocketh her Chickens under her wings but thou wouleest not. Even so then as Christ compareth his works, to the properties of beasts, so shall man do well to receive instructions by them, the better thence to frame, and more virtuously his life. And on the other side what shame and infamy is it to man, to see how beasts perfectly follow every one their nature, & man the sole and only creature, that savoureth of reason, so much abuseth that superexcellent gift lente him: for he who only should honour God most, offendenth still his majesty far above all the others, neglecting, and abusing his graces continually: in such sort that some beasts there are, of whom man should rather take example, then of some men that live presently among us: for more feeling have they of justice, and less offend they in every respect, than man which knoweth, or should do, what is his duty. And therefore saith god by the mouth of Esaie, the Ox knoweth his lord and master, the Ass also her Crib or Manger: but Israel knoweth him not, neither will his people understand him.   

Why triumphs were first used in Rome, as again how many they were, that there also triumphed, what a Triumph is, and that there is two sorts of them. Chap. 17.  
MOrally to speak, and after the manner of man, two things principally move us to attempt great and dangerous affairs, in peace as well, as also in war. The first is renown, and honour, the second none other, than utility, and gain. The noble heart, and valiant courage chief desireth, and affecteth the first, the mind abject, base, and ungentle, greedily hunteth for gain, and saliry. Cicero in an oration of his pro Archia poeta, saith, that we all are drawn with desire of commendation, and who so in deed is most famous, and honourable, is most, and above others stirred there with, demanding none other payment, or guerdon, of his virtue, then only glory, and praise of the people. The same Cicero again in an other pro Milone, saith, that the true, wise, and valiant gentleman, so much toileth not at all for wage, and gain, as he doth for honour, which followeth his pains. Which thing well considered by the ancient romans, they assuredly more sought than all other nations, besides their salary, to honour, and extol, with all kind of reverence, such as had done any notable, and virtuous exploits. In such sort, that in short time was found in Rome, more store of excellent Captains, and prudent governors, then in any other place, through the world whatsoever, by means whereof they after got the universal empire. For which cause, aswell for example of this time present, as also to content the curious in antiquities, I thought it good in this place, to discourse of the true order, & manner, which the romans used, in giving fame, & renown, to their captains victorious. And for that among all other honours, the triumph was the greatest, we will there begin, letting the reader to understand, that a triumph was a form of entry, or welcome into Rome, done to the captain general, with most pomp, & solemnity, that was possible to be done in any wise to man: & although these triumphs were much used in Rome, yet were they not the first inventors of them For Diodorus Siculus, & Pliny say, that Denis, of the antiquity, 
Diod. Sic. li. 6. Pliny lib. 2.  called Dionis, or other wise pater liber, was the first that ever triumphed in the world. It seemeth also that the people of Carthage, used some times in like sort to triumph: for as justine recordeth, among other things that were written of Hasdrubal, he four times in his life triumphed magnifically. We in manner semblable read, of the triumphs of the kings of Egypt, but principally of the king Sosestris. How be it to speak here in truly, these triumphs were never else where so solemnized, as they were at times in Rome, for on that day, that any captain there triumphed, the whole multitude ceste from every kind of labour, as not lawful for them at that time to do any thing what so ever. The inhabitants then of every the towns adjacent, came running to Rome, to behold this spectacle: then was all the city over, the Temples, the gates, and the streets, yea and the windows hanged each where with cloth of Gold and of Silver, with silks, with boughs, with flowers odoriferus, and with all other costly, and sumptuous sights possible, which might give any token, or note of joy. The Senate, the Priests, and Nobility of Rome, with all the other citizens that were of any countenance, went out into the fields honourably apparelled, to receive him that triumphed then entering into Rome, all clad in purple, and crowned with Laurel, mounted in a coach of gold, drawn with iiij. white steeds. All the captives marching before him, attired as bond men, with their heads shaven: and the general, or king himself, that was at that time taken, went nighest before the coach of any one other. His own Soldiers entered the City in good order, every of them having in his hand a Laurel. Before him also passed other Chariotes, or Wagons all charged with armour taken from the enemy, & with them also past all the treasure, and plate that he had gotten, as well of Silver, as of Gold, all the money, and jewels of what sort so ever, and with the same also, but a part, all gifts and presents, that he had received of any princes or cities, friends, or assistants to the people of Rome. Before him also past, great Castles, Fortresses, and Engines of war, most skilfully framed, or fashioned in wood, representing the towns, and holds that he had razed: and in marching made shows, and countenances of battle, but especially of such, as had chanced them in that voyage, done in such sort, and so representing the thing in deed, that it made them to tremble that attentively beheld it. And these shows were ordinarily so many, and so divers, that the triumph commonly continued full three days, to the intent that all these things might orderly be doen. In every triumph were many strange inventions (as shows, and pageants) with others the semblable long here to remember. Neither was it lawful unto all captains, ne yet for all victories, what so ever, to triumph, but certain notable laws, and customs were established, for which only, and for none other, the triumph was granted. The captain that demanded that honour, entered not at the first in to Rome, but the Senate would send him an answer thereof unto Vatican, to weet, whether they would licence him to triumph or not. first no general, or other captain, of what condition so ever he were might at any time triumph, were he not a Consul, Proconsul, or Dictator, for the triumph was never granted to man of meaner condition, by means whereof it was denied to M. Mercellus, that most victoriously conquered, and subdued Siracusa, as also to Scipio that overran all Spain. Again to the obtaining of this foresaid honour, it was also requisite, that the battle fought with the enemy should be great, and dangerous, and that there should be slain therein, a 'bove five thousand. Of these things writeth Valerius Maximus. It is also written, that Cato, and L. Marius' tribunes, ordained a law, to do sharp, and severe, animaduertion on all Captains that should make false report of the number slain. Neither was it sufficient to wind the battle, were it never so bloody and dangerous: but he also must make tributory, and subject the whole province, leaving it quiet, and in peace to his successor, bringing also home with him his army victorious. For which cause as Livy recordeth, the triumph was denied to Titus Manlius, though in truth he had obtained great victories in Spain, for that after him they were forced to overrun the country again, to wage new battle, to keep by force, and defend that which before was gotten. For this cause also Quintus Fabius the great, triumphed not, though in deed he once had subdued all Campagna, as also recordeth Valerius Maximus. It also was the manner that he that triumphed, should invite to him that might, the Consuls to supper, which they utterly (such was the manner) refused, for that, at that feast, was at no time any, to whom greater honour was done then to the triumpher. These triumphs were ever ended in the temple of jupiter, with in the Capitol, where he offered up the whole spoil which he had taken from the enemy, where also (for greater solemnisation) public assemble was then made. And to the intent that this captain should not glory to much of this honour done to him, it is reported that a bond man should that day be placed by him, to whom it was permitted to scoff, and deride him, in such sort, and manner, as it best should like him, where of sundry examples are found in old histories. But to make more plain this kind of triumph if it be possible, we will remember some, but first of all that, of Paulus Aemilius, a captain Roman, most famous, and valiant, to whom, for that he had subdued, and taken Persius' king of Macedon, utterly spoiling, and wasting his country, the triumph was granted, by common suffrage of all men, who as plutarch reciteth, triumphed in this manner. First of all, the inhabitants of Rome, as well as of other places nigh adiacente, were that day seen in their most sumptuous, and rich attire, every of them endeavouring to place himself, in some tooting hole, or window, the better, and with more ease, to behold this spectacle. All the temples in Rome, were on every side open, hanged, and apparelied, with most costly furniture, with green boughs, & perfumes, of no small value, the streets also were like gay, and glorious. And for that the multitude of people in the city, was then infinite, as well of strangers, as also of others, a number of sticklers was appointed, to make through the streets, easy way, and passage, and for that the diversity of shows, were such, and so many, necessity constrained them, to part them into three days: the first hardly sufficed, in good order to bring in the banners, standards, and ensigns of the conquered, the Colossi, Images, and tables of price, which all were brought in on carts, very curiously depainted, and trimmed. On the second day came in the armour of the king conquered, as also of all th'other Macedomens', which as they were rich, bright, and glittering, so were they with most cunning to the she we ordered, and couched on carts. After these carts entered three thousand men in order, bearing nothing but money open, and to be seen, and that in huge chargers, and vessels of silver, weighing every one three talents at the least, of which were three hundred and fifty in number, four men lotted to every vessel. The others, the residue I mean of this three thousand) brought in cundites streming, most artificially wrought with other plate all silver, no less fair, then massy, and in passing of these companies, in just and seemly order, they ended the second day in most pompous solemnity. The third day, even in the break, or spring thereof, with the first band entered (a joyous sign of conquest) infinite flutes, drums, trumpets, with others such like martial, and warlike instruments, sounding all together, not delicately, or sweetly, but in most terrible and cruel manner that was possible, in such sort, as they presently should join in battle: and after them came an hundredth and twenty Cows, all white, having their horns curiously gilted, their bodies covered with certain rich veils, which they accounted as sacred or holy, bearing also garlands of flowers on their heads, driven by certain young boys, no less well favoured, then curiously attired, to the place where they should be to their gods Sacrificed, after whom also, came other children again, charged with great platters of gold, and silver for the Sacrifice. After these came others again, seventy and seven, which in vessels of gold, carried all the gold that they had gathered in coin: after whom came then they, that carried the great goblet, poising fully ten talents of gold, which Paulus Aemilius had done to be made, set also, and inrichte with stones of rare price: and they that bore these vessels of gold, were such as were nighest, and best beloved of these kings, to weet, of Antigonus. Seleucus, and other kings of Macedon, and especially of Persius the honourablest of them. After this followed the couch of the king conquered, with his own proper armour laid a part to be seen, his diadem, or crown, with his sceptre royal, laid in seemly order, to the view, upon his armour. After his coach came prisoners on foot, the little infants, his own natural children, and following them, a great troup of his servants, and officers, as masters of the household secretaries, ushers, controllers, chamberlains, with others such of his court, or family, all weeping and wailing, in manner so dolorous, seeing them selves brought now into such servitude, and extremity, that they moved to compassion, all such as beheld them. Of the kings children there were two boys, and one maid, of age yet then so young, and tender, that they were less capable of their infortune, and misery, by means whereof the people were more moved to pity, sorroweing in strange manner, to see them in that misery. In this triumph, than followed the father, his own children after the usage of his country, clad all in black, who marchte by his countenance all amazed, and fearful, as in deed he had good cause, his present estate considered. Then followed the king, sundry of his approved friends, which beholding in that plight, their unhappy prince broke out into tears, and sighs, so bitterly, that the romans themselves, be wept that their infortunacie. After these followed one, carrying certain diadems, which some ancient cities in Grece, had presented unto Aemilius, who immediately followed in person triumphantly, mounted in a chariot, appareled with purple Tissue, having a bough of Laurel in his hand, with a crown also of the same on his head, whom followed his own soldiers, both foot men, and horse men, all armed in most decente order, holding also each of them a Laurel bough in his hand, their ensiegnes, and banners soldier like displayed, singing delicate songs, in the honour of their captain triumphing, with many other like matters most royal, and magnificent. This than was the order of Aemilius his triumph in Rome. Th'others for the most part followed also this order, adding or diminishing some few things as best liked them, and last of all offered up the spoil or booty, in the temple of jupiter with in the Capitol, where in such form and manner, as their vain religion required, they gave thanks to their Gods, for their victory obtained. And although in this sort they commonly observed their triumphs, yet were there certain laws, that of part limited the manner of these triumphs, and that according to the demerits of the triumphant, making distinction, and difference both of the streets and gates whereat they should enter, the times also, by the Senate were appointed them, but as touching all other thnyges, as shows, plays, banquets, and such others, it was lawful for every man accordong to his appetite, to enrich, and beautify his triumph, as best pleased him: and as for his Coach he also used that, as was to him best seeming, for it is evident that some drew them with four white horses, others some with bulls. The great Pomp when he triumphed for his victories in Africa, he entered Rome, his Chariot trained with Elephants. Suetonius recordeth that when Caesar triumphed, he entered Rome, drawn with forty Elephants: in maver semblable came in the Emperor Gordian also. And as Flavius writeth the Emperor Aurelius which in like manner was also king of the Goths, had his Coach triumphant drawn with wild Hearts: M. Antonius also with Lions. The Roman captains farther usually accustomed, to have evermore in their triumphant Coach with them, one child very young; or some times more: which Cicero well remembereth in his oration pro Murena. Some also brought with them, from the place where they conquered infinite numbers of strange and savage beasts, as Lions, Ounces, Bears, Tigers, Rinocerons, Panthers, Dromadaries, Elephants, with many such others, as did Titus and Vespasian, as recordeth josephus. Other some also entered, with most diversity of music that was possible, using as well their instruments, as their voices, with inspeakable others, such harmonious delectotions: among all which triumphs, some were more exquisite, and more absolute than the others, as those of Pomp, and Caesar, these also of the two Scipios, brothers, and in fine these of the Emperors, whereof Blondus remembereth in his book, de Roma triumphant: and as writeth Paulus Orosius, there triumphed in Rome at sundry times, three hundred, and twenty famous Captains, the last of which all was the Emperor Probus, in whose time the Empire first began to decline. There was also used in Rome an other kind of welcome, or solemn receiving, which was some thing less costly, and less honourable than the triumph, which they termed, or called an ovation, which as A. Gellius recordeth, was granted unto Captains for their victories, than I say, when some one thing or other failed in them, so that they might not by their constitutions demand the triumph: as for example, if the captain were neither Consul, or Proconsul, or had conquered at his pleasure without any dangerous resistance, or for that the battle was less cruel and bloody, or for that he had subdued a people barbarous, and of small reputation, or that the war was enterprised, without express commandment from the Senate, or for other such like, and semblable causes. So that in place then of the triumph, this ovation was granted them, which was in such sort as followeth. The captain entered Rome on horse back, in stead of a Coach, and some also at the first came in on foot, 
A. Gellius lib. 6 cap. 6. noct. At.  crowned with herbs, which were offered unto Venus for that these victories were rather esteemed venerius, then Martial. Neither entered the soldiers of these captains armed, ne yet sounded they any Trumpet, or Drum which might give or force some Martial noise, but used only flutes, vials, and others, sweet, & musical instruments. How be it, they brought with them in open she we their pray, or booty, the Senate meeting them without the city in the fields, feasting, praising, and commending them marvelously, which honour (though in deed far inferior to th'other) sundry honourable personages hath both yet sought, & accepted it. The first that in this sort was received in to Rome, was Posthumius Libertus, for his victory obtained against the Sabines, and next Marcus Marcellus, for his victory in Siracusa. Suetonius writeth, that octavianus Caesar, entered Rome also with this petty triumph post bella Philippica, and his other wars in Sicily. Pliny writeth that there were sundry Captains, to whom the triumph being denied, contented theimselues notwithstanding with this kind of ovation. The cause why this little triumph was termed by this name, was for that the sacrifice which the captain did, or offered that day, was of a sheep, which may in latin be called Ouis, but they that triumphed offered a Bull, so that from this word Ouis, came that other of ovation, their welcome, or joyous receiving in to Rome again. Others say that it took his beginning of that voice of the people Oe, or other wise Oue, but for that 
Or it might be said to rise of the latin word Ouo, which is to rejoice. Whence also is derived Ouatio and from thence this ovation.  to rest here on is a matter of less importance, let it suffice that they called it an ovation, whether it took his denomination, either of that first latin word Ouis, or else of that other Oe, or Oue. It farther was permitted to all Captains triumphant, that they should set up their Images, in all Temples, and common places, that they should erect at their pleasure any Columns, or pillours, giving them the name of Pillours triumphant, built of Marble, working in them, in most curious manner possible, every their battles, and victories, to their perpetual renown, and honour, a show of which, is yet this day to be seen in Rome. Which things they first did, following, the Trophies of the Greeks, which also were done in such sort as followeth. In the very same place, where any captain, obtained the victory against his enemy, he did to be set up there a great, and huge tree, cutting from the same, all his arms, or boughs, fastening to the stock, the armure of the vanquished, to his perpetual honour, and renown, and this called they a Trophy, of that Greek word Tropi, which may signify conversion, flight, or retreat, for that in that place, the enemy was put to flight: and this with these Trophies, the romans first acquainted theimselues, for as Sallust writeth, Pomp on a time having vanquished the Spaniards, placed his trophies, on the tops, of the mountains Pirenei, which usage by tract of time, grew after into such estimation, that they made them of stone, wrought artificially. How be it, this thing seemeth to be of more antiquity, and that other nations also before the Greeks used it, for it is red in the fifteenth Chapter of the first book of the Kings, that Saul having vanquished Agag King of the Amalachites, came after to mount Carmell, where he erected an arch triumphal, in the only remembrance, and memory of his victories. To conclude the honour of a triumph was such, and so esteemed, that no one other was so much desired in Rome, so that their Captains refused no pain, no peril, or danger, how great, or what soever, so that in fine they might attain to that inestimable honour. Besides, these Captains that thus triumphed, become marvelous rich, by the spoils of the conquered, to them also were given, great presents by their friends: which I only to this purpose, in this place would remember, that princes might hence learn, how to recompense, and reward their captains, and other soldiers what so ever, according to their deserts: for commonly in these days, the dainty coward, and nice Carpette man, is more largely considered of, than those that employ, both their goods, and their lives, in the service of the Prince, and defence of their country.   

¶ What names the Roman captains gained by their victories. Chapt. 18.  
THe captains of Rome, were yet besides their triumphs, in an other lort honoured, to weet, by names, and surnames given them, of the people, and provinces, which they had conquered, and subdued, which assuredly was no small recompense, for their worthy demerits. Sometimes they also got additions to their names for their only prows, or courage in arms, whence sundry families in Rome grew, most famous, and honourable. First we may speak of the three Metelli, of which the one (as hath Saluste, & besides him others) for having vanquished the king jugurthe, and conquered his country, and all the territories of Numidia, was called Numidicus. The other Quintus Metellus, for his victory obtained against the king of Macedon, was surnamed Macedonicus, and the last Creticus, for that he subdued the Isle of Crete. Before these were Marcius Coriolanus and Sergius Fidenatus, of which the first got that name, for that he subdued to the romans, the city Corialis, the second, for that he brought tributory Fidena in Italy. And finally an other Metellus was there named Balearicus, for that he subdued to the Roman Empire, the Isles Baleares, which other wise have this day to name Maiorque, and Minorque, with the others adjoining to them. Lucius Numius, was surnamed Acaicus, for that he conquered Acaia, and Corinthe. Brutus also for that he subdued the Gauls, received in recompense, the name of Gaulois. The two Scipios brothers, were also honoured with the names, of two sundry nations, by them vanquished, and subdued: the one Africanus, the other Asiaticus, for that he both conquered Antioch, and Asia, and was the first that ever brought, any Roman ensiegne into Asia. After this the other Scipio, son to Paulus Aemelius (of whose triumph above some thing is said) and nephew by adoption, unto the great Scipio, was also as th'other, surnamed Africanus, for that he both assailed, and won, the rich, and famous city of Carthage. He also received for like guerdon, the name of Numantinus, or Numanticus, which was to him no less honour, than the other, for having sack Numantia in Spain. It is also read, that Emperors themselves ioied, in the names of towns, and places by them conquered, vysing the same ever more, in their letters patents, and other instruments, as did Severus, and after him his successors: as for the conquest of Arabia, Parthia, Armenia, Germania, and others, the one named himself Arabicus, an other Parthicus, an other again Armenicus, Germanicus, and Asiaticus, each honouring himself, with his victories obtained. For other causes also, that romans, at times gained like names of honour, as Marcus Manlius, who for that he defended the Capitol from the violente force of the French men, gained the name of Capitolinus. The family of the Toroquates, received first that name, for that o●● of them took by force from the neck of his enemy, a chain, or collar, in Latin torques. Q. Fabius the great, who for his delays, and dalliance used with Hannibal, delivering by the same means also his country, was surnamed afterwards Cunctator: For this cause he also was called the Target of Rome, which turned him to great advantage, and honour. Marcus Marcellus, which lived also at the same time, for his valiant prows, and courage, and continuance in stel●e, still against his enemy, was in fine called the knife, or sword of Hannibal. That excellent captain Silas, though he were cruel, was not withstanding for his happy victories, surnamed Fortunate. Pomp for his so many, so honourable, and so re●…ed victories, was through the world called Pomp the great, than which name, I know not what might be more royal, or magnificent. And thus were those names given, to those virtuous captains, in such sort, that their generals, and conductors of armies, were also termed by the names of Emperors, which this day of all others, is the supreme, and highest dignity, so that they were, either Praetors, Consuls, or Proconsul's, and that also had subdued his enemy in some famous battle, had also destroyed, and wasted his whole country, slain, and murdered great heaps of his subjects, and finally by the loss of two thousand of his own, to have slain ten thousand of the contrary, at the least, for other wise he gained not the name of an emperor. This happy name gate julius Caesar, the father of julius Caesar, for his victory; which he obtained against the Samnites, and Lucan's, in the days, and time of Silas. Pomp was also called Emperor, for his fortunate victory in Africa, against Domician. Cicero assigned Proconsul in that war, against the Parthians, was by his soldiers, for his happy success, continually called Emperor. julius Caesar also before he was elected Emperor, was, for that he was fortunatein war, every where called Emperor. But what captain so ever found not his adversary strong, and puissant, such as durst, and would, both meet, and encounter with him, neither merited, or obtained that name of an Emperor, yea, he sharply was reproved, that ambitiously desired it. Hence Marcus Antonius seemed to grudge, and murmur, for that having sack a great city, on the farther side of the river of Euphrates, that the name of Emperor, was notwithstanding, denied him. After this julius Caesar, and his successors, affecting the signiory of Rome; and knowing how odious the name of a king was, unto all the people, did them selves to be called, by the name of Emperors, which from that time hath continued, even until this day, a name of all others most reverent, and honourable. And as the romans, this honoured their own captains, with these titles, so in manner semblable, neither left, or forgot they to gratify any stranger, that for friendship served, or lived in wage with them, in manner as ample, as if he had been borne in Rome: and as they found them hardy, and valiant, so were they gracious, and large, in recompensing their service: so gave they unto Atalus a part of Asia, with the title (for more ample satisfaction) of a king of which benefit, he never become oblivious, or ungrateful, for dying, he returned the profits thereof, to Rome again. A. Eumenes brother to this Atlaus, for that he ha● both painfully, and faithfully served the romans, against Antiochus, the Senate gave him in recompense, all the towns, that they had gotten of Antiochus in Asia. Unto jotar king of Galicia, for having aided Pomp against Mithridates, they gave the whole province of little Armenia. In like sort they rewarded Massinisla king of Numidia, received by Scipio for companion, and friend to the people of Rome, to whom they frankly gave what so ever, he had gotten from Syphax, which had aided the citizens of Carthage, against the others of Rome. Neither thus rewarded they princes, and great personages only, but unto men of base condition, they presented jules, offices, and honours. The Consul Marius, considering the notable courage, of two small bands, which marvelously withstood the furious, and violent incursions of the Cimbrians, which then were entered upon the 
Cimbria is that which we now call Denmark.  frontiers, or confines of Italy, infranchest them immediately, reputing them for citizens of Rome, whereof being reproved, as having done it against their laws, said, that in the middle of that fight, when blows were dealt thickest, he heard no law speak in what sort so ever.   
The end of the third part.   

¶ The fourth part of the Forest or collection of histories.  

¶ Of the seven marvels, or wonders of the world. Chapt. 1  
such as have employed any part of their time, in the reading of histories, orators, and old poets, have found that often mention is made, of the seven wonders of the world, at sundry times erected, and in places far distant. All such as have hereof written any thing, agreed, and accord together on six, but as touching the seventh, we find divers opinions, and therefore less determine, on which, or where, with best warrant to arreste us. How be it, in the first place we will speak, of the walls of Babylon, one of the seven, and that for good cause, as well for the marvelous circuit of them, as for the seat also thereof, which both to most men, might seem a thing impossible: and although it might suffice, in this place now to advertise the reader, of that, which is above said in the chapter, of the diversity, and confusion of tongues, and that it was there built, where Nembrothe erected the Tower of Babel, of which the town (as is evident) took his denomination, yet will we not so, and in such sort pass it. These walls then according to the approved opinion, of most men, and of Trogus Pompeius, as hath justine, were first of all founded, by the famous Queen Semiramis, mother unto Ninus. Which opinion D. Siculus, A. Marcelinus, and P. Orosius, with the greatest part of all the Gentiles, have uniformly agreed on: although Saint Augustine, and josephus in his antiquities, attribute it unto Nembrothe 
Aug. lib. 16. de civitate dei. josephus li. 9 de antiquitatibus.  aided by his people: but were it, that Semiramis, either laid the foundation, or repaired it, it sufficeth that it was perfected, and inrichte marvelously by her. This city was seated on a plain on the one side, on the other side past the great river of Euphrates. It was proportioned in a square, or quadrante, the walls very high, and curiously wrought, the matter was stone, laid with hot lime, and an other kind of cement, which usually is found in the mines of that country, but chief in that great river of judea, where some times stood Sodom and Gomorra, called Asfaltida, giving a slime, which holdeth more fast, than any kind of Pitch, or Glue. Some writers disagree, as well about the height of this wall, as also about the circuit thereof, which might peradventure hap by diversity of measures, Pliny saith that this wall had in compass sixty thousand paces, so that every quarter, or fourth part of the quadrante, had by computation just fifteen thousand: he farther addeth, that it was two hundred foot high, which foot exceeded by three inches, the measure of the foot Romain and xv. foot thick, which was assuredly very strange and marvelous. Diodorus Siculus affirmeth, that it contained in all, three hundred, and sixty stadia, and was also, so thick that six Cartes there on, without annoy, might pass, on a front together. The bridges, fortifications, towers, and gardens, that Semiramis did on, and through this wall to be made. is a thing more miraculous, then easy to be credited. It farther is written, that she retained in this work, three hundred thousand workmen, gathered throughout all the territories, and country's subject to her. To the former length, Quintus Cursius addeth yet eight stadia more, & in height he saith it had just an hundred cubits: but Paulus Orosius 
Paulus orosius lib. 2.  saith, that it contained in length, four hundred and eighty stadia, which mount (giving an hundred, twenty, and five paces, to every stadium) to the sixty thousand paces, that Pliny remembered. Strabo writeth, 
Strabo lib. 16.  that this wall was in compass, but three hundred eighty, and five stadia, but in breadth was such, that many Cartes might pass on it, not touching, or hurting any one th'other. Farther strange things are written, of the pleasant, and fine gardens, that were on certain turrettes, and towers, in this wall, in which also grew trees of great height. julius Solinus here in accordeth with Pliny. Besides this, some of these writers also affirm, that without, it was environed, with certaives motes, or diches, full to the banks continually with water no less broad, or deep, than some reasonable good river. In this city were an hundred gates, all of metals, no less strong, then beautiful, and curious: and in fine, what soever is written of the excellency of these walls it need not to any man seem less true, or incredible, for that this city was then the most proud, and most stately of all others in the world, the seat, and chair long time, of the universal, and general Monarch, which is an argument, or note sufficient, of the great pomp, and royalty ofit, of part described by Aristotle in his Politics, who there saith, that it being on a time, taken by the enemy, these that inhabited the farther part of the same, neither felt, or knew any thing of their misery, before full three days afterward. In the second place of these wounders, we shall remember a Colossus, which was made at Rhodes, offered by the Gentiles, and dedicated to the Sun, although some others 
Colossi, were Images of exceeding greatness, having the shape, or proportion of man. Plineus li. 34. cap. 7.  say unto jupiter: this Colossus was of metal, of a huge, and incredible greatness, and height, much like to some great, and strong tower, in such sort, that it well might be marveled, how, or in what manner it might be set up, or raised. Pliny who hardly passeth any thing, writeth that it had seventy cubits in height, and although to make it, there were a great number of good work men continually busied, yet wrought their twelve years, before they could finish it, and the charges thereof drew to iij. C. talentes. It was made by the commandment of Cares, scholar to Lysippus. This Image was of such horrible greatness, that it seemed the earth was unable to sustain him: he stood as both Pliny, and Orosius record, but only fifty and six years, at th'end of which time he fell, overthrown by a marvelous yearthquake, and being fallen, infinite multitudes came to behold him, as a most strange, and rare spectacle, especially for that few men were found, that could well fathom his thumb, the little finger being greater, than all other ordinary Images. Some writ of an hundred others, which also were at Rhodes, but all far inferior to this in greatness, which to remember therefore, is less incident to our purpose, unless perchance, we should here mind the reader, that some therefore have thought, that the Rhodians by this mean gate the name of Colossenses, having at one time, an hundred small Colossi, besides that other great Colossus, now above remembered: how be it this opinion less pleaseth Erasmus, for that (saith he) the Colossiens', to whom saint Paul wrote, were the inhabitants of Colossas, a city in Frigia-Retourne we then to this Colossus again: which lay rotting, and rusting there, many years after, even until the time of Pope Martin the first, which was in the year of our Lord God, just six hundred, when the Infidels, with their captain the Sultan of Egypte, invaded the Rhodians, and as Platina writeth, in the life of the said Martin, with, whom also accordeth Antonius Sabellicus, carried thence all the pieces, or parts, that remained of that Colossus, where with they loaded nine hundred camels. Of all th'other Colossi, which were as well in Rhodes, as in other places, but in quantity, or bigness, far inferior to this, I may in this place at all, speak nothing, only having here to entreat of, the seven wounders of the world. The third was, the Pyramids in Egypte, concerning which, if all things be true, in good histories reported, they were then no less miraculous, then strange, in deed, and marvelous. Pyramids were then, certain 
What a Pyramid is.  edifices, or buildings, which began in a quadrante, and so continued still, by insensible difference, streatning, and sharpening upwards, some thing like unto a Dia●…ant, of a marvelous greatness, and height with all, built, with such, and so huge stones, cut, and framed in such marvelous perfection, that it were hard to writ, the true proportion of it, hard also, to bring men to receive it for a truth, and credit it: how be it, these things are sufficiently authorized, as well by Christians, as by Gentiles, of whose report (unless we wrong them) we neither may, or can doubt any thing. These Pyramids are then Towers of incredible height, ending evermore at the top, in a small or sharp point. This word Pyramid, taketh his beginning of this Greek word Pyr, in English fire, for that it endeth as a flame, sharp continually at the point. Among all the Pyramids, any where remembered of, particular mention is especially made of three, and they all in Egypte, betwixt the city of Mensis, now called Caira, and the Isle of Delta, environed on every side, with the river Nilus, of which one, is accounted, one of the seven wounders: for as is reported there laboured continually to raise, and erect it, three hundred, and sixty thousand menue, for the full space of twenty years: which thing Pliny passeth not, alleging 
Pliny lib. 36. cap. 12. Diod. Sic. li. 1. Strabo lib. ultimo. Pomp. M. l●… 1. Herod. lib. 2. Am. lib. 2.  twelve authors, which all together affirm it, as also doth Diodorus Siculus, Strabo, Pomponius Mela, Herodotus, Amianus, with others. Some also writ that the foundation of this Pyramid, contained so much ground as may be well ploughed, with one plough in eight days, which may mount to eighty jugera: others some abate again so much thereof, as may be ploughed of one plough, in one or two days, so that it containeth the full compass of six, or seven days journeys at the lest, and in height it also had, so much, or some thing more. Pliny writeth, that each quarter contained in length, eight hundred, eighty and three foot. The stones were all of Marble, brought out of Arabia, and as Pomponius Mela recordeth, the most part of them were thirty foot long, whence it seemeth not incredible, that there were there on busied, so many thousand men, some to carry, turn, and remove stones, others to square, fine, and frame them, others again to fasten, joint, and lay them, besides the multitude busied in Iron works, and other things like needful, and necessary. Farther of other Pyramids, some also writ this, or at the least of two or three, of which one was erected, by the vain pomp of the princes and kings of Egypte, which were of all others most rich in that time, of part as well by the fertility of their country, as also of part, for that in Egypt, no man then held in his own possession any thing, the king only excepted: and thus there began, in the time of joseph, son of jacob, which counseled Pharaoh, to reserve, and keep, the corn of the seven plentiful years, to help himself, and his people, in the other seven years of famine following, during which time, the king by means of his grain, become Lord, and signior of every man's lands, rents, and possessions, throughout all, and every his territories, and countries. Consider here then of the wealth, of these princes, & how all their subjects served them, without respect, as they had been bondmen. And as it is fartherreported in good histories, these princes for none other cause, did these Pyramids to be raised, but only to give meat, & sustenance to their hungry subjects, to such I mean, as in these works laboured, & farther, not to leave their treasures to their successors: for they more desired in such sort to spend than, then to leave occasion to their posterity, by these means to pass, and surmount their predecessors, in wealth and abundance, enjoying after them, that which they before carefully had gathered. It also is written, that these Pyramids served, as sepulchres for great Princes: and who so well considereth the great multitude of hebrews, which served in Egipte, whose aid the Princes used there, to erect Cities, Castles, and Holds, will nothing at all marvel at that which is above said: for it is most certain, that there were delivered from this bondage six hundred thousand men, besides an infinite multitude of women, and children, which all were employed in these, and the like works, so that by these means it was no strange thing to advance these famous edifices: and as some also report, the radish roots, and saletes, besides other provision of like meats in these works spent, mounted to the sum of eighty talentes, which might value, of our money, one million, and four score thousand Crowns. Diodorus writeth, that round about this Pyramid, both nigh, and far of, there was not to be found, so much as one small stone, neither any show, or sign, that any man had erst been there, and in fine, no foundation thereof, to be seen, or perceived, only there was fine sand as salt, and that in great abundance or quantity: in such sort that it seemed, it only had been, by some secret miracle, or by the mighty hand of God, or that it had out of that place grown up, whose height almost seemed, to have streachte unto the heavens. If we would leave to remember old histories, yet could we not in this matter lack, good witnesses of our time. Petre Matyr borne in Milan, a man of no less experience, than learning, sent as Ambassador unto the Sultan of Egypte, from the Emperor Ferdinand, in the year, of our redemption, a thousand five hundred and one, composed a book of these things, which he saw, and did, in that ambassade, where he uttereth in writing, that, which by mouth he hath often times spoken, touching, and concerning, these fore remembered Pyramids, agreeing in every point with that which these ancient authors have left us: and particularly he discourseth, in many of two, which both he saw, of height incredible, and farther saith that he measured the quarters of one of them, which were all equal, each having three hundred, and fifteen paces, in leanght, and in circuit all together almost thirteen hundred: and again he addeth, that on every side, there were certain huge, and great stones, embossed, and swelling outward for the more better conveance of certain rooms with in. And more he saith, that some of his company, in long time, & with marvelous pain ascended to the top of one of them, where they found one stone, such and so great, that with ease thirty men might at once have stood on him, and being descended again, would not otherwise think, but that they had been in some cloud, & farther so high they were, that their sight began to fail them, their brains rolling and turning, as people amazed. So that as he saith, it nothing may be doubted, neither of the number of workmen, neither of the great expenses. The fourth was the sepulchre, or tomb, which Artemisia did to be built for her husband Mausolus' king of Caria, a province in Asia the greater, nigh unto the Sea Icarium. This woman as writeth A. Gellius, and others, in such sort loved 
A. Gali 10. noctium At.  Mausolus her husband, that all men remember her, for an example most notable: who after the king died, did in such sort lament, and bewail him, as neither can I writ, or find experience thereof in others, erecting to him a sepulchre, answering of part, the great love that she bore him, which for the cost bestowed thereon, the excellent frame, and workmanship with all, was, and is reputed, for one of the seven wonders. This tomb was built on an excellent kind of Marble, in compass just four hundred, and a leaven foot, and in height, twenty and five cubits. It also had thirty, and six pillars, all of stone of rare prize, most skilfully engraved: it lay open to the veu, on every side to be seen, with Arches containing seventy and three foot, in breadth, bulte by the most excellent workmen that were in the world to be found. The part opening to the east, was engraved, and wrought by Scopas: that toward the north by Briax, the South part by Timothee, and that of the West, by Leocares: the perfection of this work was such, and the frame thereof so excellent, that it thereby gained the name of Mausoleum, and that for the dead Kings sake, for whom it was builded, whence also all other sepulchres, that even until this day have any where been made, if there be any beauty, or excellency in them, for that Sepulchre only, hold the name of Mausolea. And of those things make mention Pliny, Pomponius Mela, Herodotus, 
Pliny li. 35. cap. 5. P. Mela. li. 1, Stra. lib. 7.  Strabo, Aulus Gellius, and others. It also is evident, that Artemisia after the death, and departure of her husband, lived in continual tears, and weeping, and that herself also paid the tribute of nature, before this work was fully finished, and ended, having drouncke notwithstanding her husebandes' bones first in powder, lodging them in the Sepulchre of her own proper body. The fift was the Temple of Diana, whom fond, the Gentiles adored for a goddess, it stood in the city of Ephesus in Asia, in the province of jonium. Pliny saith that it was built by the Amazons, whose fame, and renown, was such, and so strange, that no part of the world was there, that resounded not of it, so that Democritus there of only hath written, one whole volume. Pliny discoursing of this temple, saith that it contained four hundred, twenty and five foot in length, and in breadthe two hundred, and twenty. This work was of such marvelous excellency, that all Asia about it was busied ij. C. and twenty years, it was seated in a Fen, or marish ground, only to avoid the danger of yearthquakes: the foundation thereof was laid with Cole dust, hard trodden, and beaten down, and on that again great store of Wool, to assure the place, other wise moist, and watery. In it were an hundred forty, and seven pillours, every of them of Marble, and seventy foot high, all erected by Kings of Asia. Of these thirty seven were most exquisitlie engraved, the others also of Marble (as is said) polished. The master of this work, as recordeth Pliny was Cresiphon, but Strabo otherwise 
Strabo. lib. 14.  saith that it was Archifron. How be it, this diversity of opinions is excusable, considering how long time this work continued, and therefore of necessity it required more than one, or two masters, beside, many things were added at sundry times to perfect it. Solinus, and Pomponius Mela, writ that this Temple was first erected by the Amazons, and Solinus farther addeth, that when the mighty, and puissant Xerxes, was busied about the conquest of Grece, he brunt, and consumed every other Temple, only reserving, and saving this. All writers accord, that on these pillours, was framed a roof of Cedar, in most curious sort wrought, that was possible to be devised, the doors through out, being all of Cypress. After this a lewd person considering of this so rich, and so renowned a work, desired still in heart (which he after did) to burn it, and being apprehended immediately upon the fact, confessed that he had for none other cause done it, but that his fame might line, himself each where remembered, for ever, of the posterity, whence as Valerius Maximus, recordeth, in his title of renown, and honour, and also with him in like manner Aulus Gellius, it was immediately enacted, that no 
A. Gel. lib. 2.  man under pain, of great, and grievous punishment, should at any time be so hardy to speak, or writ, his name, to the intent he yet might fail, of that his desired purpose. But this less served, for both Strabo, and Solinus, witness of his name, and call him Herostratus, of whom proceeded afterward this proverb, Hero●●rati gloria, applied unto these that seek either fame, or honour, by any their like wretched & villainous treacheries. Farther we may remember here, as not altogether impertinent, that the very same day, that this temple was thus burned, Alexandre was borne, that Prince of worthy memory, which conquered, and subdued each Province throughout all Asia. Which thing well noteth Plutarch, in the life of Alexandre, as also Cicero twice in his second book de natura deorum, also again in his book de divinatione, where as he saith, that then, when this Temple was in burning, the Sages there prognosticated, of the general destruction, and conquest of all Asia, as in deed it after was, subdued by this Alexandre. Some report that this temple, was again réedefied, enlarged also, and beautified, much more than at the first, as also that the master of this work had to name Democrates. The sixth marvel was none other, than the Image of jupiter Olympicus, which was erected in the Temple of jupiter in Acaya, betwixt the two Cities of Elida, and Pisa, which place, as also the Temple, after the denomination of jupiter Olympicus, were both called by one name Olympia, which Image as both Strabo, and Pomponius Mela 
Stra. lib. 8. P. Mela. li. 2.  report, was no less renowned for the art, perfection, and fineness of the work, than it also was, for his exceeding huge greatness. Some say that it was, all of Porphire, other some of Ivory, wrought, or done by Phidias, to grave, or carve, the most excellenst that ever was. Of this Image writeth Pliny, as besides him sundry 
Pliny. li. 34. & 36.  others. Strabo addeth that the excellency of this Image, consisted in his greatness to which also came that, whence in deed it was more strange, and marvelous, that it all was wrought of Porphire, cut, and divided into most small, and fine parts. It is reported that Phidias, in one only point, failed in this work, to weet, that the compass of this Image was less conformable, and agreant, with the true proportion of the Church, for that being made sitting, was yet never the less so high, and so great, that if you would have considered him at any time to have stood, the church then by no means could any ways have healed him. Notwithstanding this Image much beautified this Temple, doing it to be spoken of much more than before, though it also were before very famous, especially by the means of three solemn plays, and games, kept in the honour of jupiter, called Olympia. Thence came it, that the Greeks counted their years, by Olympiads, which usually were from five years, to five, which plays were first instituted, and ordained by Hercules. But this usage some times left, was after again practised, and put in ure by Emonis, or as others some will, by Sfiton, four or five years after the destruction of Troy, at lest as Eusebius accounteth, at which time began again the first Olympias. Concerning the seventh marvel, some suppose it to be the Tower that was in the Isle Pharos, nigh to that renowned Alexandria in Egypte. This Pharos was a small Isle, long, and street, lying on the one side of Egypte, strait against the mouth of Nilus, which in old time, or long scythe, as gaithereth Pomponius Mela, and also Pliny, was of one side only environed with the Sea, or 
P. Mela li. 2. Pline lib. 5.  water, but after ward in their time was so foolded in with floods, that only at one place, and by one Bridge, passage was, and by none other. In this Isle Pharos (so called after the name of a certain discrite Pilot, which sometimes was at Meneleas, and there also was buried) the kings of Egipte built a certain tower of Marble, in height, and curious work, surpassing all others, on the top of a hill environed with water, whose frame, and fashion was such, and so stately, that it cost them eight hundred talentes, which mount to four hundred, and four score thousand crowns, according as Budeus accounteth; and was erected for none other cause, but to be a Lantern for certain Torches or lights in the night, only for the comfort, and surety of all those that either were then in voyage by Sea, or by Land, the better to conduct them to good and sure harbour. Which tower nevertheless as most men hold, was built at the proper charges of Ptolemy only, whose master of that work had to name Sistratus, as Pliny also hath 
Pliny lib. 35.  plainly left us. Caesar in his commentaries no less commendeth the height, than he doth the beauty, and excellency of this tower, and saith that it had the name, of the Isle Pharos. The very same reporteth Amianus Marcelinus, writing the history of this worthy work: 
A. Marc. lib. 2.  to which Solinus addeth, that what towers so ever were any where to this purpose built, were, to the imitation of this also called Pharoos, as that (for example) of Messina and others. And farther I suppose that these lights, or Lanterns, which ordinarily are carried, in ships by the night, each one the better to draw, and direct the other, by this means in like manner were also called Pharoos. So this is now the last of these seven marvels, although in deed, of many it be accounted none, in whose place some number the hanging gardens of Babylon, where of also is to fore some thing said. Lactantius Firmianus reporteth, that these gardens were plotted on high, on the very tops of Arches, and Towers, in such sort that under them were fair, and pleasant lodgings, and above grew trees of great, and rare hougenes, with abundance of springs, at all times to bede we them. The form of these buildings, is amply described by Diodorus Siculus. Celius Rhodiensis, discoursing of these mearuailes remembereth no thing of this Tower Pharos, ne yet of these strange gardens of Babylon: but in the seventh place addeth an Obeliscus, framed, and perfected by the commandment of Semiramis, which in shape nothing differed, or fashion from a Pyramid, beginning in a square, and ending in a point, in this notwithstanding disagreeing with the other, that the Obeliscus ever was of one only stone, neither péeste, or patchte, in any part, or place, and yet therefore little yielding in height to any Pyramid, of which we read that some, were great, as any Towers, of a fair, and good stone curiously graven. Of which sort is one yet this day in Rome, known by the name only of a neelde which by unspeakable pain and policy, was brought, out of Egypte, of height no less marvelous, than it was to bring so huge a weaght thither. This Obeliscus now of Semiramis, which Celius, as is said, reckoneth for the last marvel, had in height an hundred, & fifty foot, and in circuit ninety six, each side in length, by equal proportion conteaining twenty four foot, which as it was one whole, and perfect stone, so was he also, by express tommaundement of Semiramis, cut out of a certain hill or mountain in Armenia, and afterward thence brought to the above remembered Babylon. But who so will consider how hard it was to draw it thence, how hard also afterward to erect it, might think, in truth it was, a thing almost impossible, were ti not, that the antiquity had things like strange, and difficile, which every where are left us, of authors worthy credit, which assure us also of others, in like sort perfected, by other Princes of Egypte. Pliny showeth the manner, how with out any hurt, bruise, or annoy, they first were 
Pliny lib. 6. cap. 8. & 9  removed from the place where they were made. Of these Pyramids Obelisci, Colossi, and such others, at full discourseth the learned Polysias, in the beginning of his book of love and fire.   

¶ What manner of women the Sibylles were, how many in number and of their prophecies, but especially of those that concerned Christ, and his coming. Chapt. 2.  
THe history of the Sibylles is generally authorized of all men, their learning, and prophecies very well known, but particularly to entreat when and what they were, whereof they Prophesied, and at what time, that only knoweth he, that hath spent some time in old, and ancient histories. Wherefore my desire was, some thing of them to gather, especially considering the marvelous gift of Prophecy, which God in sunderie wise bestowed at times on them, and principally to fore say, of the coming of his son, of his life, and passion, with other many mysteries of our belief, and faith, of which we shall some thing, in this place remember, to the intent the Ethnic, & Panime, that will aucthorise nothing, but their own proper writings, might no better have to excuse himself, than the perfect jew which affiing in his own, neither liketh, or accepteth, the true faith, or religion. And this say I, for that by common admission, and consent, such books were of all the Gentiles received, & these Sibylles also credited, but especially of the romans, which in every their affairs, or necessities whatsoever, had their due recourse to the Prophecies of these Sibylles, conferring, and consulting of all things, by them written. But for that so many, as well Greeks, as Latins, have in such sort, so fully discourste, and written of them, we shall here follow, and imitate the best, not grieving, or weriing the reader, with any others. Diodorus Siculus, Plinius, Solinus, Servius, Marcianus Capellus, Lactantius Firmianus, Elianus, Suidas, Strabo, Marcus Vario, and Virgil also, with the better part of poets, Saint Augustine, Eusebius, Orosius, with the most part of all good historians, have some thing written, and discourste of these Sibylles. Diodorus saith, that this word Sibylla, signifieth nothing else, but a woman Prophetess, and one full of God. Servius, as also Lactantius, in his fourth book of divine institutions, nameth them none otherwise, than the counsel of God: Suidas, women Prophets. The others disagree, as well about the number of them, as also when they were. Some nombring more, some less but as thereof uncertain. Marcianus Capella, mindeth us of two only, others some of four, as chief Elianus in his variable histories. Marcus Varro remembreth no less than ten, with whom Lactantius Firmianus occordeth in his first book, whom I have determined in this place to follow. The first was of Persia, called Samberta, 
The first Samberta.  of whom Nicanor maketh mention, the same that wrote the renowned gests of Alexander, others writ, that she was of Chaldea, others a jew, borne in the town of No, nigh the red sea, whose father height Berosus, & her mother Erimanta: this woman wrote twenty four books in vearses, in which she disclosed strange and wonderful matters, concerning the coming of Christ, his miracles, and his life, though secretly, and as shadowed, not to be understood of all men. With whom all the other Sibylles uniformly accord, in such sort that Lactantius Firmianus, as well in his fourth book, as in sunderie other places, leaveth us their particular Prophecies of Christ. And Saint Augustine also hath left us, a brief, or short summary, of some certain, and principal matters, which as well this, as the others also have Prophesied, especially of the death, and passion of our Saviour, and among others these words by order. After this he shall be apprehended, by the hands of Infidels, they also shall beat, and buffette him about the face, with their impure, and sacrilegious hands, with their mouths accursed, and blasphemous shall they spit on him, he shall give them his body, as contented to be whipped thereon, he shall love silence, and utter few words, so that whence he speaketh few men at all shall know, semblably he shall be crowned with shearpe, and piercing thorns, Gaul shall they give him to eat, and sour Vineager to drink. See here the banquet that these men shall make him: so that thou O Nation both ignorant, and blind, shalt not know thy GOD, here present and with thee, but tyrannously shalt crown him (as is foresaid) with thorns, meddling Gaul, and vinegar together (a potion) for him. After this the Veal of the Temple shall sunder, and the middle of that day shall be darkened as the night, by the whole space of three full hours, so then shall the just die, who shall lie dead, or sleep only three days, and having paste through Hell shall rise, or revive, never to die again. These words are such, so plain, and so evident, that they in nothing differ, from these of the Evangelists, concerning Christ, our master, and Messiah: or otherwise, from these, of the holy prophets, but among the others principally of Esaie, which the Church also this day doth hold, and shall do ever. And these Prophecies are recorded, some by Lactantius Firmianus, some by saint Augustine, and others some by others, as by Cicero, Marcus Varro, and others, Gentiles all dead before the birth, and nativity of our Saviour, as is both plain, and manifest by the said Lactantius, who farther of these Sibylles, addeth also 
Lact. li. 4. ca 15.  this much: he shall raise the dead, the impotent, and the weak by him again shall go, the deaf shall hear, the blind see, the dumb shall speak, and laud his name freely, and again somewhat before, with five loaves, and two fishes, he shall feed five thousand men in the desert, and that which shall remain, shall also refresh the hungry need of others. The second by report, was 
The second libyca.  borne in Libya, of whom mention is made by Euripides, in his Prologue of Lamia. The third height Themis, and was surnamed Delphica, for that she was borne in the 
The third Delphica.  city Delphos, of whom remembreth Chrysippus, in his book of Divination. Unto this woman, the romans erected an Image, which was, as recordeth Pliny, before the destruction of Troy, so that Homer in his works, hath sundry, and divers of her vearses, as is evident. Diodorus Siculus saith, that this was Daphne, the daughter of Tiresias, whom, when the Greeks had subdued Thebes, they sent her forth immediately, and without stay to Delphos, where she after become a prophetess, in the Oracle of Apollo, so that she thence (as he supposeth) and not otherwise, got the name of Delphica. The fourth 
The fourth Cumea.  had to name Cumea, or Italienna, and not Cumana Amaltea, she was borne in Cimeria, a town of Campania, adjoining unto Cumae, whose prophecies are written, as well by Nevyus in his books Punici, as also by Pison in his annalies, and briefly remembered by Lactantius, by Virgil also in his Eglogue this beginning, Scicilides musae. The first was that famous Erythrea, which by the especial 
The first Erythrea.  grace of God, so plainly prophesied of the greatest mysteries of our religion, wherefore as hath Lactantius, the Gentiles in the age's paste, supposing it impossible, that a virgin, should hear a child, as also other things supernatural, which they in like sort wrote, remembered as well, by old poets, as also in ancient histories, accounted of these vearses, none otherwise, them of light, vain, and fond matters, Apolodorus writeth of this sybil, that she foresaid to the Greeks, that they assuredly should sack, and over run Troy, whence most suppose, she was before the destruction thereof. How be it Eusebius contrariwise thinketh, that she lived in the time of Romulus. Strabo again in the days of Alexander. Of this Erythrea were these words, recited by Eusebius, which in order translated, sound in English this much, jesus Christ the son of God, and Saviour. Which was in deed no less strange, then marvelous. Others also wrote she, which Saint Augustine gathereth in his eighteenth De civitate dei, which done by him into Latin, may in our tongue say this much: The earth shall sweat, an assured sign of judgement, from heaven shall come a king, which shallbe king continually, but clad in man's flesh, to the intent he may judge the world, so shall the incredulous see, aswell, as shall the faithful, and with their eyes shall boholde, God himself advanced in the middle of his angels: and in the end of this world, the souls of men shall appear, with their own proper bodies, which all himself shall judge present then in person, at which time the earth shall be bruised, and disordered. men shall then destroy both Images, and Idols, their jewels eke, and treasures shall they not account of, he shall go down into hell, and break up the infernal gates, then to the just shall joy, and peace be lotted, and fire shall torment still the reprobate, and impious. All secrets shall in this day be discovered, every man shall know the thoughts of an other, God then shall lay open the hearts, and consciences of all flesh: there shall be weeping, and gnashing of teeth, the Sun; and the Stars, in that day shall be darkened, the heavens them selves shall break, and the Moon shall loose her light, the mountains shall fall down, and the valies shall lie even with the swelling hills, nothing in the whole world shall higher be then other, both mountains, and valays shall be reduced, into plains, each thing having in that day his ending: the earth shall be skorchte up, and brought then to powder, both rivers, and springs shall in that day burn, and with that fire also the earth itself, the sea, and the air shall be consumed, a trumpette then from heaven, most terribly shall sound, at which voice the earth incontinently shall open, discovering the obscure, and disordered face of hell, the pains eke, and the smarts of the damned souls therein. By this sybil these, and many others were written at large in verse, plainly declaring Christ himself incarnate, with the resurrection of the dead, and the final judgement. But these things, before they came to pass in deed of few might, or could in any wise be understood, reputed for mere folly of the Panimes, and the Gentiles. Notwithstanding Erithrea, well knowing what was to come, left not this much to say, in like sort of herself: vain shall they account me, a light, and lying dame. But when these things shall be accomplished, then shall they remember me again, not as a deting, or as a senslis wight, but as a true southsaier, or prophetess of the highest. From this Sibyl Erithrea, the romans at times received many vearses, which Fenestella with silence passeth not in his fifteen Forces, saying, that by ordinance of the Senate, they sent Ambassadors unto her, only to have (if it so might please her) of her prophecies, which from her brought back papers in great number, which were both carefully, and curiously reserved in the Capitol, emongste others some, which they also had received before. This woman was of Erithrea, a town of jonyum, in the Province of the less Asia, adjoining unto Caria, which I would the reader should certainly understand, for that many other towns are also of this name, as one in Libya, an other in Boecia, the third in Locris, the fourth in Cyprus, but to assure us that she was of this Erithrea in jonyun, Strabo may only in this place 
Strabo lib. 4. The sixth Samia  suffice. The sixth sybil was of Phyton, a town in the Isle of Samos, environed with the sea Egeum, bordering on Thrace, or as others some suppose, in that other Isle of Samos compassed with the said sea, right against Ephesus, for which cause she had to name Silia Samia, of which remembreth E●atosthenes. The seventh was Cumana, otherwise Amaltea, how be it, some others gave her to 
The seventh Cumana.  name Demophila. Suidas termeth her Hierophila: never the less Cumana was she called, for that she both dwelled and prophesied in the town of Cumas in Italy, not far of from Baias. Of this woman writeth Dyonisius, Halicarnasleus, Solinus, Aulus Gellius, & Servius, she brought to be sold to Tarquin the proud, king of the romans nine books (though Suidas otherwise suppose, that it was to Tarquimus Priscus) for which she demanded three hundred Crowns, or other pieces of gold, such as might be, or was, in Rome at that time most currant, but for that the king thought her therein unreasonable, he refused utterly these her offered merchandises, by means whereof incontinently, she did three of them in his presence to be burned, not leaving therefore, to ask again the whole price, for the other six, which thing the king disdaining more then, then at the first, began to deride her, charging her with folly, whence she again taketh others three, and as the first, so burned them immediately, demanding for the remnant, the whole price of the nine, where at, and at whose constancy, the king then much amazed, imagining that they contained some strange, and hidden mysteries, bought these three, at the price of all the others, which afterward were laid up, and reserved in the Capitol, in marvelous honour, and reverence of all the people. Pliny writeth that she had but three in all, of which she burned, as he reporteth two receiving notwithstanding for the third, the value of them all, but how so ever it were, it sufficeth that these books were had in such great reverence, so kept, and reserved, with these of the other Sibylles. For as M. Varro allegeth out of Lactantius, the romans with incessant pain, sought throughout all Grece, and Italy, thorough Asia also, and every part thereof, for all books, vearses, or prophecies whatsoever, that might, or could be found any where of these Sibylles, and especially among the others of that excellent Erithrea, for accomplisment whereof, and more expedite gathering of these foresaid papers, fifteen men of honour, were charged with this business, none meddling, or dealing besides them in these matters. Fenistella recordeth, that when the Capitol was burned, the Senate sent back again to Erithrea, humbly requesting her, to enrich them once again, with her books, if it so ●…ight please her. Whence it may be presumed, that they had not Cumanaes' verses only, but every the prophecies of each, and all the others: and that, that sybil, of which Virgil maketh mention in the beginning, or entry, of his sixth of Aeneydos, which then dwelled or continued in Cumas, where he affirmeth that Aeneas imbarkte himself, should be some other Cumana, not this of which we now have spoken, by common account, and reckoning, the seventh of that order: for it hardly may be thought, that Virgil knew of any sybil, at that time, when Aeneas first entered into Italy, ne yet that she lived in the days, of the fift king of Rome. And servius interpreting the same place, saith: of necessity it needs must be, that she, that sold these books, should also be called Cumana, though in troth her name were nothing so at all, this woman also died in the said town of Cumas. The eight was borne within the territory of Troy, in the town of Marmisa, such, and so ancient, that as Heraclides 
The eight Hell jespontia.  Ponticus writeth, she lived in the time of Solon the Philosopher, and of that great, and mighty Cyrus. The ninth was borne in Phrigia, and Prophesied dwelling 
The ninth Phrigia. The tenth Albunea or Tyburtina.  in the town of Ancira. The tenth height Albunea, borne at Tibur sixteen mile from Rome, whence also she is called some times Tiburtina. So these Sibylles, left many books and verses, in which they Prophesied, of sundry things to come, but principally of the prosperous, or adverse state of Rome: so that the romans, in every their affairs, diligently perused, and with reverence all their books, or papers, ordering, and directing themselves, continually by them. And as when we would be credited, and be thought to speak a truth, we usually will say, it is written in the Gospel, so also said they in like sort of the Sibylles, such was their affiance, or great trust in these women. For proof whereof Juvenal passeth such a verse, Credit me vobis folium recitare Sibyllae, which he so said, for that these women, gave forth their Prophecies, written in leaves of trees, as Virgil well witnesseth in his sixth of his Aeneydos. Cicero with great reverence speaketh also of them, especially in his book De divinatione, where he thus much saith, as we tofore have said, that out of their first, & great letters of every verse, sentemeces of weight, & great matters still were drawn. Among other things many, each one of them have spoken, of our faith, and of the Christian religion, of the birth, the life, and of the death of Christ, as we eftsoons tofore have also specified: as among the others, the sybil Delphica also said. A Prophet shall be borne of a woman not knowing man: and an other this, he that yet is to come, shall here after come, he shall reign in poverty, his great & mighty force shall he to few discover, out of a virgins womb shall he also be borne. josephus again (a jew though he were by race, and eke by his profession) speaking of the tower of Babylon this much reporteth, that a certain Sibyl remembering when first men spoke but one language, saith, that they built to them a proud, and haute Tower, as if by the same they should have entered in to heaven, but God sent fourth great winds to raze, & to subvert it, as also divers tongues, the spring of division, and discord among the people, whence this Tower gained the fit name of Babylon. These things and others, the semblable, written by these Sibylles, have well been recorded by Christians, jews, and Gentiles, which the Gentiles replete with sin cold never yet understand: but the Christians as soon, as these Prophecies came to their hands, as well record Lactantius Firmianus, Eusebius, and Saint Augustine, with others, gathered thence great fruit, and comfort immediately, the Panym, and the Gentle neglecting them to their confusion. Besides these were yet some others, that also were called Sibylles, reputed as fore showers, or fore saiers of things to come, as Cassandra the daughter of Priamus, Campusia Celofonia the daughter of Calcas, Manta Thessalica the daughter of tiresias the Theban, but all histories, only accord on the above said ten.   

Wherefore sleep by nature was given unto man, and that to sleep to much is both noisome, and domageable. Chap. 3.  
Sleep was given man for his preservation, for that nothing having life is there that sleepeth not. Aristotle saith 
Ar. lib. 4. de animalibus.  that all creatures having blood, take their repose, and sleep, in which place he proveth by reason, and by experience, that fishes also at times as other things do sleep. Sleep is a surcessing of all the senses from travail, which is, or is caused, by certain evaporations, and fumes, rising of our meat, and sustenance received, mounting from the stomach immediately unto the brain, by whose great coldness these vapours warm are tempered, casting into a slumber every the forces, or senses exterior, at which time the vital spirits retiring to the heart, leave all the members of the body in a sleep, until such time again, as these said vital spirits (which are the only instruments, by which the Soul both governeth, and ordereth the whole body) recover new force, and streangth to them again, and so these vapours, or ceasing, or diminishing man again awaketh, or returneth to himself, more apt then to his business, then at any time tofore. Of these occasions of sleep, Aristotle is long in his book De somno, & vigilia: and plutarch reciteth the opinions of sundry philosophers, with many natural reasons concerning the said matter. But although it be good, and necessary for the body, yet must it not be with excess and immoderately taken, for that to much fleepe (as well recordeth Aristotle) weakeneth the spirits, of the body as well, as also of the Soul, even as moderate, and competent rest, bettereth them, increasing, their vigour and their force. For as many things are necessary, and needful in man's life, so taken in excess, annoy, and grieve us much, as to eat who feeleth not how hunger us compelleth? and yet, who to much eateth, repenteth it, we see: in semblable sort exercise with moderation also pleaseth, but in excess thereof no man hath any liking. So sleep then must be taken, for necessity only, to revive, refreashe, and comfort the weary senses, the spirits also vital, and other weary members. For to much sleep (besides that it maketh heavy the above said spirits, and senses, the party also becometh slothful, weak, and effeminate with over much idleness) engendereth much humidity, and raw humours in the body which commonly assault it with sundry infirmities, messages of death, and of final ruin: for when we to much fleape all the moistures, and humours of the body, with the natural heat retire to the extreme parts thereof, no where purging, or evacuating, that what so is redundant. So then unmeasured sleep, is not only forbidden by philosophers, and phisiciens, but also, is a thing odious to the wise, & virtuous. Aristotle saith that while we sleep, and slumber, no difference is known betwixt the wise man, and the fool, and surely were there none other cause, to break, and call the wise man, from long, and weary sleep, but only to eschew, and utterly refuse, in any point to be like, or resemble him that is not, yet therefore should he fly it (though moderate sleep give life, and be therefore right necessary) considering that he that sleepeth, is not then as one living. And as plutarch addeth in his book, of the contention of water and fire, who so sleepeth hath none other force, or understanding sleeping, then if himself were dead, a cold, or senslis carrion. Pliny also is of this mind saying, that sleep still bereaveth us, of the one half of our life, for that when we sleep, we neither know, nor feel whether we live or not. ovid with other poets, and men of like learning, term sleep an Image, or purtraite of death, and in the Scriptures sleep, is compared unto death, as where Saint Paul saith, brethren, we will not, that ye be ignorant of these that are a sleep: by which words he meaneth these that now are dead, and a little after, God shall draw out after him, those that have slept in Christ. sleep also is the figure of negligency, and of sloth, which the same S. Paul again, in plain words uttereth, my brethren, it now is time ye arise, & wake out of your sleep. sleep also signifieth sin, as hath Saint Gregory, who saith that to sleep, is to continued, and persevere in sin. And again, if that to sleep much, had not been accounted sin, Saint Paul then never had remembered these 
Paul cap. 4. primae epist. ad Thes.  words so often, awake ye just, and leave any more to sin. Let us begin to shame then, that spend the greater part of our time, in sleep, and in our bed, for surely who so doth, his offence is nothing less, than his that all day doth sit, in fat dishes surfeiting, like a gross, and swollen Epicure, considering these creatures, should only be taken, to the sole sustentation, and maintenance of life, and not to fill, or pamper voluptuouslie the belly: in which sort sleep must also be taken, only for necessity, nothing at all for pleasure. Sigh then sleep none otherwise must be used, let us now speak in what sort is best to sleep, which way, and how to turn, being laid down in bed to rest us, to the intent that our sleep may not annoy, but profit us. such then as are of body not impotent, or less hardy, should pass as some suppose, their first sleep on the right side, but after that, the greater part of the night, upon the left, thence changing towards the morning, unto the right again. The reason is, for that man's stomach is so ordered, that the mouth thereof, somewhat more bendeth towards the right side, than it doth to the left, but the bottom contrary wise to the left, declining from the right. So sleeping one hour, or two, on the right side, the stomach stretcheth forth itself at large upon the Liver, whence two singular commodities ensue, the first, that the stomach ordereth, and enlargeth herself in wished manner, by means whereof, it passeth with more ease, and contentment, the late meats received, or nutriment what so ever: the second the moisture, or humidity of the food in the stomach, cooleth, refresheth, and comforteth the Liver, by means whereof, the natural heat waxeth strong within the stomach, which mattereth not a little to hasten the digestion. This done it shall not be discommodious, to turn unto the other side, on which being sometimes laid, the Liver strait embraceth, and covereth the stomach, whence in this manner aided, it perfecteth, and causeth immediately digestion. How be, it, it also shall be expedient, some what before you rise, one's again to turn, and cast you on the right side, to the intent the stomach, disburden, and discharge itself again of the Liver, expelling all noisome air, and superfluity of the digestion passed. This rule may profit such, as have their Liver temperate, their stomach also not watrishe still, and cold, and to whom in fine, these two are well affected: but unto him whose Liver percase may be inflamed, whose stomach also is subject unto cold, which both are common in many to be seen, to him I think it noisome to sleep on the right side, for that the stomach than falleth, and resteth on the Liver, straining or charging it, on every side or part, whence in excess it heateth and inflameth immediately, the higher part of the stomach, remaining still uncovered, cooling so, and weakening more than before, beside that the Liver draweth also to it, even that little heat, that before was in the stomach, whence consequently ensueth, late, and ill digestion, the body indisposed, less apt to follow any thing. Wherefore, whose stomach is cold, but Liver contrary wise inflamed, and hot, best sleeping is for him continually on the left side, for that the stomach covered on every side with the Liver, it happily hasteneth, and perfecteth digestion: and concerning the Liver, lying so a lought, it both is discharged, and disburdeined of the stomach, by means whereof it cooleth, clean void of inflammations. Some also sleep grovelling, their face, and belly downwards, which semblably aideth, and comforteth digestion, for that it both draweth, and retaineth the heat natural in the stomach, which thence expelleth, and exileth all superfluities. The contrary happeneth to them that sleep on their back, the face open, and directly upward, for that the natural heat is dispersed in parts abroad, less apt, or less able to perfect, or cause digestion, for neither can the superfluities be purged well by the mouth, ne yet by any other cundites, or ordinary passages, but arrest them continually in the stomach, and in the throat, whence some times spring vehement suffocations, the falling evil also, with others many the semblable, and like infirmities, The wise also here learn us, that we sleep not to much, stretched forth throughout our bed, for thence again digestion, of part may also be weakened: for as hath the Philosopher, when the virtues, and forces are united well together, the operation of nature is then so much the stronger, and so lying of part, drawn as it were together, that part of the body, which covereth next the stomach, joineth more close unto it, comforting, and warming it more than it did before. These rules percase may profit, the dainty, the delicate, and eke the weaker sort: but concerning those that are lusty, and well disposed, the best advice I may, or any other give them, is that they retain the same custom, that they tofore have used.   

¶ Of three sundry doubts, which the ancient Philosophers were never able to resolve, with the causes why. Chapt. 4.  
THE ancient Philosophers, by the marvelous instinct of God, curiously searchte out the causes, of each the works of nature, assertaining their propositions, without contradiction, or repugnancy, of any others. Yet never were they able to resolve these three things, of part doubtful, and of some importance with the causes assured of their spring, and being. The first is, that they well knew, there was given unto man by nature, a desire never to die, or depart hence, never to feel smart, or any annoy what soever, but continually to sugiorne, with felicity perpetual, and pleasure in this world, never savouring of any lack, or default of any thing, but yet could not attain to that desired end or mark. And on the other side well assured, that GOD and Nature, never attempted any thing in vain, and farther that this, mannes appetite proceeded only of nature, toiling, & supposing herein to find the cause, especially that this axiom in any other thing never failed, they folded, and refolded themselves, in infinite perplexities, ceasing in despair, to loose this knot or scruple. The second was that they said, that each man felt in himself, a certain natural, and perverse inclination of the flesh, and farther, a sensuality plain contrary to the above said desire, or appetite, which was not to die, or savour of corruption, as in this carnal motion, which casteth man into sundry dangers, and infirmities, shortening his time, and his days so much desired. The semblable also riseth of excess in surfeiting, besides that others some again, desirous suddenly to mount to great pomp, and honour, hazard themselves to wind the spurs in field, where commonly they fall, or else return often times, with a fierce, & troubled mind, or in fine some mishap or infortune there betides them, an end all contrary to that they so much affected. The third is, that in the order of nature, the bodies inferior, are governed by the superiors, as for example the elements, by the bodies celestial: the Orbs, or Spheres of the planets (as Philosophers will) by the intelligences, and they again by the first maker, or mover of all things, God the only and the sole cause, and prince eternal. But in man alone this order is now perverted, who being of two parts, to weet the soul, & body, we see that the flesh in truth both vile, and abject, rageth, and rebelleth against the mind, and reason, and that which worst is draweth it, to his own froward will and pleasure, whence the Apostle said, that he in his members felt, a law contrary, and repugnant to the law of reason, moving it to sin, and to unjust rebellion. The philosophers therefore that lived before the coming of our saviour knew nothing at all, the occasion of this disorder, but curiously seeking some cause thereof, or reason, fell into sundry erroneous, and fond opinions. Whence Anaxagoras said, that this monstrosity, or disordered rebellion, began at the first, in the beginning of the world, when all things were folded without regard, or respect in that ancient Chaos: for separating this force of reason by discord and rejoining it again afterward by concord, it engendereth every thing good, and perfect in his kind, man alone excepted, whose body it uniteth stoberne, and disloyal, with the soul only absolute, and reasonable. And therefore as these two, in this Chaos first disagreed, so ever more continued they in discord, and in enmity, contrary to the rule, and order of all other things. In this sort this poor, and less advised philosopher, attributed the fault hereof to the divine providence. Others also said, that this only happened, by diversity of constellations, under which man was both borne, and conceived. Aristotle never hardened himself, plainly and apertly to unknot this present scruple, but rather he gainsaieth it, himself affirming, that man's will is naturally inclined to evil, so that with great difficulty, it is, or may be brought subject unto reason. And in an other place he saith, that the felicity which man by virtue here acquireth, is the absolute, and perfect gift of God alone. To conclude then, virtue, in the action, or operation where of, the felicity of man fully consisteth, must be the gift of God, and not of nature only. On the other side the manichees desirous to yield some reason of this perverse, and injust order said, that in man were two souls to gather, the one good, of the true and perfect substance, of the prince of light, the other impious, and accursed, taking his spring of the Prince of darkness, whence this war, was this in man continued. Origen saith, that before the creation or frame of the world, all souls sinning against the divine majesty, were kept and reserved in heaven for a time, but afterward for their punishment, were placed again in bodies, of hard, and noughty nature, whence this rebellion, in man, in this sort liveth. But all these opinions both erroneous, and detestable, are confuted by Saint Augustine writing against the manichees, in his book De duab. anim. and in an other of his, De nat. boni. where with long reasons most learnedly he showeth, the cause why they never attained to the knowledge, or feeling, of this foresaid disorder, which was for that they never had heard, or known any thing of the scriptures, by which we fully are resolved in every, and all these scruples, by which also it is evident, that both these propositions are answering, and consonant unto the order of nature. To weet that God, and nature attempt nothing in vain, and that it again is convenable, that man by nature should fear, and refuse to taste of death, desirous to live in continued joy, and pleasure, though he yet never attain thereto in any sort: ne yet therefore is this desire of his in vain, but rather accordeth perfectly with nature, but not to attain to the effect, or end thereof, is to man an accident, and therefore less natural. For God created man, first to live immortal, in such sort that according to the opinion of most divines, he never should have died, or tasted of any misery, had he, or kept, or observed the commandments given him, but having transgressed them he straight become subject, to the stormy tempests of this world, and finally to death: and this by disobedience, man here hath purchased anguish, the grave, and corruption. So as the Apostle saith, by the sin of disobedience, death first crept in, and entered into this world. Hence now it then is evident, that death was neither natural in our first father Adam, ne after him in us, but casual and accidental, as nothing at all less ment us by the divine providence. Now than this doubt, may also this be resolved, that the desire never to die, or to endure annoy, is lent us from nature, and that not in vain, for that it some times was in us, if man than had not sinned) assuredly to have attained, the effect so much desired: but being (as we are) rebellious and obstinate this desire still remaineth, but so to be, is denied us. The second doubt also, by this means may be resolved, for that through glotteny, and venery, we hasten our fall, and ruin. In semblable sort the third also, by the sin of Adam, by means where of, he fell from that original justice, or state of grace, which God before to him, had freely given, and granted, serving him to moderate, his life, and each his actions. Whence immediately began to follow this disordre, for reason that should rule, and order things aright, lieth subject unto the will, and to every the senses: so that it appeareth plainly, that this perverse order, is in no respect natural, but (as is said) of fortune, and altogether casual. By which means we here conclude, that things of greatest excellency, and of assured perfection should, and aught to governeth others of base condition, and this never misseth, or faileth at any time, as is more than plain, in every the bodies, immixte, and celestial, but although in man experience show the contrary, that issueth of fortune (who by his fall hath merited not that, but greater punishment) and not at all from nature.   

What ceremonies the romans used before they denounced war to any prince or country. Chap. 5.  
WHo so hath read of the holy ceremonies, and religious observations, practised continually by the ancient romans, as well in matters concerning peace, as in those also of war, may nothing at all mearuaile, of all theirs so many, and so famous victories, against such migtie Princes, such warlike and bloody nations, nor on the other side might think it, or strange, or else impossible, to see the fatal ruin of this great; and stately empire, which first of all began, when contemptuously they first disdained these solemnities. For as we see by examples of infinite histories, by how much the more devoutly, they observed the ●boue said usages, so much the more grew this Roman state, and empire, their captains also happy, and renowned, and dreadde throughout the world, as is and may be seen in Pomp and in Brennus, with others, more known, and more than I can remember, which though they were in deed idolaters, void of all knowledge, or perfect feeling of God, yet of part it appeareth that God still was propitious to the fautors of religion, which percase might be to this, and none other end, that as this people was jealous of this religion, of which they yet had no perfect, nor none other assured ground, so by more sure reason, they gladly should have been patrons and Protectors of the true and Christian faith, if it had been to them, as to us it is revealed. By the effect it then is evident, that long time he kept, and preserved them in prosperity, with fortunate success in their affairs temporal. The ceremonies then which the romans used in time of peace, are many and divers, which I leave to speak of, for that if I should all pen them, I should weary, & grieve percase the reader, & to speak thereof to little, were injurious in my fantasy. Wherefore I shall in this place remember five only, which they orderly observed before they proclaimed war against any prince, or country, to the intent that Princes of our time may see, how much they err, rashly to denounce, war and hostility, not craving first God's assistance, his aid, and his succour: and farther that they also may know, that hence only, on them befalleth, commonly such evil, adverse, and finister fortune, and finally how far in points of religion, they in truth be inferior, to these ethnics, and Idolaters. Now then when news came to Rome of any rebellion or that any prince barbarous, had invaded their territories, or that any other had done injury to their confederates, they immediately sent forth their ambassadors unto him, by which the Senate, by fair means advised him, to make restitution of the damage, and wrong committed, and farther that he ever afterward, refrained from such incursions: which advise if he esteemed not, then did they war to be proclaimed immediately. The Senate then having chosen some captain for this journey, did all their Sacrificatours, incontinently to be called, which received in commandment, to pray unto their Gods, for the happy success, and good fortune of their people. For the romans went never forth, to spill the blood of their enemies, before their priests had bitterly wept, and prayed in their Temples. After this the Senate, being assembled all together, went in good order to the Church of jupiter, where solemnly they swore all, or plighted this faith, that when so ever yet, the enemy (against whom war by them was then denounced) would desire a truce, or peace again with them, or otherwise would crave pardon of his default, that mercy should not in any case be denied him. This done the new Consul, chosen for this expedition, hasteneth thence again forthwith unto the Capitol, where he voweth to him of the Gods, in whom he reposeth, or most hope, or confidence, that he will offer, if he return victorious, the best thing that he hath, of what price so ever. And although the thing offered, were of never so great value, yet were the people bound to repais it him again. After this an Ensign, having in it an Eagle (which was the true, and ancient arms of the romans) was brought out into the filled of Mars, which they only did to this end or purpose, that the people might know that it was then less lawful, to use any plays, or other pleasant spectacles, whilst that their friends, and kinsmen, were then in filled, and in arms, and in fine the Praetor, being mounted on high, on one of their gates, sounded a Trumpette, to call together their Soldiers, delivering with the same certain Ensigns unto the captain. Hence it appeareth, that they never would arm themselves before they first had appeased, and honoured their Gods, craving their assistance in that battle, or fight, against their enemies. For if the Consul or captain, assigned by the Senate, happily subdued any Province, or City, not valiantly, and honourably, but by prodition and by treachery, he afterward should be punished by the said Senate grievously. Where of we find sundry examples, of which I shall remember but two here presently, the one of their excellent prows and virtue, the other how they handled one, that by a dishonourable policy had conquered his enemy. Fabritius on a time, with an army of the romans lying before Fidena, a certain schoolmaster issued with his scholars out of the City, who supposing highly to gratify this captain, hastily did himself to be brought into his presence, whom incontinently this Consul (although by the retaining of them, being as they were, the sons of the most honourable, & richest of the town, he straight should have been received for their Lord into the city) not only refused to accept, and receive him, but did him to be strippeth in their presence naked, and binding his hands, gave to every of his scholars, rods to skurge him, sending this traitor back so, unto their friends, and Parents, by means whereof he wound the hearts of the citizens, which immediately yielded theimselues subject to the romans. On the other side, in the year of the foundation of Rome three hundred, and eighteen, war was proclaimed by the Consuls against the Sarmates, and others the inhabitants of the mountain Caucasus, which as is sien in tables of cosmography, divideth Asia in the middle, banding Scythia on the one side, and ending in India, where by means of extreme cold, no Grape at all groweth. In these wars Lucius Pius was appointed general, where after many a bloody, and cruel skirmish, he sun times gainynd the better, some times the worse. But during a truce betixte them accorded, Lucius royally feasted, and banketed the Captains of the Sarmates, and after this having trained them eftsoons unto him, and considering how they pleased much in bousing of his wines, especially for the great skarsnes, and want thereof in those countries, in the end again invited them, to a solemn and rich supper, where he gave them of wine, in such abundance, that they all held themselves, well contented of him, yielding by this means their province tributory to the romans. This war now so ended, and Lucius returning home again to Rome, demanded of the Senate, to triumph, for his conquest, which was not only, in most disdainful manner denied him, but also this form of victory was so odions, that they did him to die for it openly, on whose Tomb this Epitaphe, for more contempt was written: here lieth Lucius Pius Consul, who not by virtue of arms in the filled, but by banqueting dishes on his table, not with the Lance, or Sword in hand, but with good wine that over ran the Sarmates. The Senate, 〈◊〉 yet contented with these exceeding cruelties, farther proclaimed throughout each part of Rome, that what so ever Lucius had done, in the name of the romans, should not be taken or reputed for any thing, and besides it was written also unto the Sarmates, that they again should be free, in their pristinate, and wonted manner.   

That it profiteth a Prince much to be fair and well fewtered. Chap. 6.  
THe greatest matter in my judgement, that any way may commend the majesty of a Prince (speaking now only of graces exterior) is the comely feauture, and proportion of his body, accompanied with a decent gravity, an argument infallible of pregnant sapience. And although we some times see, the rule of Pythagoras, to fail, and be less certain, to weet that in a body crooked are crooked manners (for that virtue eftsoons dwelleth in a frame less fined, rough hewn, and ill proportioned) yet assuredly for the most part a man hardly shall find the contrary. And albeit, that an honourable, aspect or representation, to no other purpose, may profit a prince, yet purchaseth it him reverence, and enlargeth his authority, especially if it have alliance with bounty and honesty, as on the other side, it commonly is diminished by odious deformity: for as saith Cicero the habit of virtue, is of such great force, and efficacy, that it constraineth us to love them, that have her in possession. Even so in a prince the majesty of his parsonage hath in it a certain secret veneration, alluring the hearts of his vassaules to love him, moved thereto percase by some hidden fantasy, persuading theimselues, that he is both just, merciful, and virtuous, his life and manners conformable, to the feawture of his body. Hence certain people barbarous supposed, that there was no man of sufficient advice, and discretion, to accomplish, and absolve matters, of great charge, and importance, but such only as were by nature endued, with an ameable countenance, and good proportion of body. Macrobius reciteth that in the Isle of Nero, bordering on the river Nilus, the inhabitants, (which live half as long again as do we) choose continually, their Prince, the most valianste, and most beautifullest parsonage (without regard of his parentage) throughout their whole country. How be it, no man I suppose, so far exileth from reason, that will not prefer the Prince hard favoured being virtuous, before that other well fewtered, vertulis, and impious: but both being of condition equal, my ●elfe would prefer th'other before the counterfeit. Demetrius' son of Antigonus was of a representation so honourable, and excellent, that no Painter, or Carver, cold in his time be found, that durst to take on him, in any sort to purtraie him: for in him was a certain meekness, and terror together, conjoygned with so much good nature, and gravity, that it appeared he was borne, in one, and the same instant, to be dread together, and also to be loved. It is also written that Marius, who so many times triumphed, was of such a venerable, and loving countenance, that being taken prisoner by his enemy Sylla, a certain frenthemam was sent with express commandment to kill him, who being entered into the Prison, with his sword drawn, but beholding there so grave, so perfect, and so fearful a physiognomy was immediately, so strangely amazed, that he turning retired, & left the prison open, by which means he happily then saved his life. Alexander the great, for that he was but of a small stature, and not of face most amiable of all others, walking with his well-beloved Ephestion, the mother of the King Darius came to salve him, and knowing not which of the two was in deed Alexander, reverenced for the king most humblely Ephestion, for that seeing him of so honourable a representation, supposed assuredly that he had been Alexandre. The old histories report, that Alcibiades, and Scipio, with others in any, honoured, & authorized the dignity of their offices, with their so reverent, and comely graces, with united and connected, to their excellent virtues, profited not a little their common weal, and country On the other side we find, that many princes, and Captains, as well in the old time, as in this our age: have by mean of their base stature, lived in disdain and contempt of many, and that some also, for that they were deformed, were at times in great hazard to have lost their life, of which for example's sake; I will remember two, the one long sigh, the other of late, though we lack not; to this purpose, infinite others. Philopome●…s. Duke of the Achaiens, a man renowned, and very honourable, was of a small stature, evil faeste, and deformed, so that when he was clad in base, and ●ile apparel (as was his manner eftsoons to be) he rather seemed to be of a vocation most abject, than a Prince ordering, or governing a country's. This Duke pleased much in hunting, by means whereof, he often times came to Mega●la, where on a time ●…y earnest in following the chase, went ●…other from home than was perhaps his will to have done, so that he was feign to harbour that night in the house of a certain poor gentleman, in the country, one of his especial, and assured friends, who also had then married very lately before, having only at that time but one servant in the house, having sent for the his others, about other his affairs: when then this Duke was come to his gates, with out more he knockte a loud there at, immediately his wife looking out at a window, demanded whom he sought, whence he was, and what he would? to whom his servant answered, that it was Philopomines the Duke, that was come thither to lodge, with his friend that night. The gentlewoman streaght amazed, that on a sudden she should receive such an honourable jest, and supposing them both at the gate servants to the Duke, which were foresent to advertise them of his coming, and for as much as they were but two only, with out any more ●he opened to them the gates incontinently, the Duke then with his servant being entered in to the haul, she sendeth forth a Paege with speed, to seek her husband, which presently was then at the next village, and turning her about to Philopomines and his servant, willed them to sit down, while she provided the supper, so busied in ordering things about the house with her maid, no less in truth trobeled, then almost amazed, began now one thing, and then on other, not finishing or ending at all any thing. So seeing her matters to go but slackly forward, beholding the Duke fast folded in his Cleake, which also percase was colder than he gladly would have been, (moving him to laugh thereat beyond measure, desired him to put of his Cloak, and help to make the sire before her servant were returned, to the intent the supper might be ready against his lords commyug. Than took Philopomines a wedge in hand, beginning to sunder Logs as fast as he could, having first secretly charged his servant, in no thing to do him then any reverence or duty, to the intent the poor gentlewoman might not know him to be the Duke. Now while he thus laboured in cleaving of Blocks, the master of the house in great haste came in, who very well knowing Philopomines, embraced him with great reverence, and demanded of him saying, my Lord what do you with these tools in hand? To whom he answered with smiling cowtenaunce, my friend content thee, that I do my business, for herein pay I the price of my deformity. In our time Ferdinand King of Spain, a Prince no less discrete, then wise, but of stature rather little then reasonable, who also though he had a Princely face, or countenance, and with the same of advised, and politic government, the other parts of his body were yet less corespondent, besides that continually he went apparelled in cloth, such, and so made, that he of these that knew him not, was rather reputed for a mean citizen, than for such as he was, a great and mighty Prince. The king on a time now passing to Naples, with his wife the Queen Isabel, where he at that time was earnestly looked for, and arriving in the morning with one Galley only, the others less ready, but following after, was received of the inhabitants honourably, who while his breakfast was then a providing, whilst also the Palace was then a furnishing, walked alone without company in the great haule, whither also at the same time by hap came a fisher, which even then had taken a goodly great fish, which he there ment to present unto the king: but this fisher not knowing him in deed, demanded of him, where the king might be, who incontinently said; that himself was he, whereat the fisher began to laugh, supposing that he had but boarded with him merrily, and besought him again to learn him where he was, to whom he answered, as before, that he was he, but the fisher neither seeing in him (as he thought) any the port, or maie●…e of a Prince, withdrew himself with his fish again, whereat the king had great sport, and laughed. And immediately certain courtiers entering to whom, (after their accustomed, & usual reverence done to his majesty) the King saith, laughing merrily: gentlemen if ye give not yonder good fellow to understand, that I in deed am the king whom he seeketh assuredly we shall not taste, of that great fish for our breakfast. Which words as he thus spoke, the fisher again returned, and seeing him in such sort, on every side honoured, imagened that he then, was King in deed, and so falling on his knees presented to him, his fish. But this happened to him, a harmelis, a pleasant, and a merry jest, far otherwise, than an other chance, which afterward betided him, by the very like, or same occasion. For an other time being himself at Barcelona, and following the sacrament, with all his court, in the day of the solennization thereof, he suddenly was assailed of a certain Spaniarde, which with a weighty, and long dagger, reachet him such a blow on the neck, that had it not been for a great chain that he wore on, which bore of, and defended the greatest force thereof, it very nigh had sundered his head from the body. This Spaniarde was incontinently apprehended, and the multitude doubting least he also had some consorts, the sooner to force him to confess therein a truth, did him to be rack, in most cruel manner, but for all the torments that they possibly might device, could not be brought to say, that he had done it for other cause, but that himself, was moved in conscience, only for the disdain, and malice that he bore him. And being demanded, why he either should malice, or disdain him, answered for nothing else, but for his evil favoured physiognomy, as also that he was so crooked, and ill fewtered, and that it so much grieved him, that he had not dispatchte him, as any their cruel torments might any way annoie him. See now here then, these strange adventures, for that not being formed to the contentation of men, we either are refused, or disdained, walking eftsoons in danger, and peril of death.   

¶ Of the horrible tyranny of Aristotimes, a matter or subject not less fitting for a tragedy. Chapt. 8.  
ARistotimes by the only favour, and means of Antigonus tyrannously usurped the signiory of Eleusis, where he ruled as Prince so intemperately, that there was no kind of merciless cruelty, which he there practised not on the miserable, and poor citizens: for of nature was he more bloody, and cruel, than any one other, that lived in his time. And the better to increase this his execrable villainy, he used still the counsel, and advise of men barbarous, to whom he not only committed the administration, and government of all the whole country, but with the same also the guard of his person. Now among other his cruelties, which he many committed, it shall not be impertinent, for example, in this place to remember, that which he practised, more than tragical, against Philomides, a citizen very honoble, and of good countenance. This Philomides had a daughter, of a marvelous good grace, and excellent beauty, called Micca, on which a certain soldier, that height Lucius, well favoured of the tyrant, become enamoured by means whereof, he sent to the father, that he immediately, and without stay, should send him his daughter. Philomides all amazed, at this unchaste demand, and with the same knowing his authority with the tyrant, dreading least percase worse should betide him, both he, and his wife earnestly, entreated their daughter to go to him. But the young maid, which better loved her honour, than her life, as she that had been chastened, and virtuously brought up, threw herself down on her knees before her father, embracing him, as hard as she could do possibly, most humbly beseeching him, in no wise to permit, that she should expose herself, to such, and so great a dishonour, and that he rather should hasten, to see her dead before him, then with such barbarous cruelty, so to be deflowered. The father then moved with these her many tears, began also to weep in most bitter manner, so did the mother sobbing, and blubbering with pain, and having now stayed some little time, without resolution, Lucius inpatient, in his immoderate villainy, not seeing her to come, as was his commandment, went himself in most furious rage to her father's house, where finding her, on her knees, embracing her father, with thundering threats commanded her, incontinently to rise, and follow him. But she beginning a fre●●e, than her most bitter plaints, staying, and refusing to rise at his commandment, this odious monster foraged, trailed her about the house, renting her apparel, not sparing to despoil her, till she was all naked, beating her more cruelly, than my pen can here speak, but she with such constant courage, supported this villainy, that she neither skrichete there at, or used any exclamation, showing herself ready, to endure, and tolerate, what so he would, or could do to her more. At the sight of which so horrible a spectable, the father and mother, both moved, in strange manner, weeping, and crying, fell on their knees before him, beseehing him to have pity, and compassion, both on her, and them, but seeing that they nothing might gain of this merciless lecherer, began to appeal, both to the gods, and men. Where at this homicide, more wroth than before, drew out his sword, and slew the maid, embracing her father's knees. At which most inhuman, and unheard villainy, Aristo●imes, was not only not moved, but of the citizens, which blamed, or misliked of this tyranny, some he did to death, some others he banished, so that more than eight hundred, by this mean in haste fled thence to Etolium which afterward wrote their earnest letters to the tyrant, desiring him that he would grant licence to their wives, & children to come unto them, which thing they could not in any wise obtain. But certain days afterward, he tretcherously did proclamation to be made (as was the manner) under sound of Troumpette that it should be lawful, for all the wives of the banished, with their goods, and children to depart to their husbands. Which news to these dames, was so glad, and joyous, that they forthwith began to make their males, and packets, some providing horses, some wagons, and Charriottes, more easily to pass themselves, their goods, and their children, but at the day appointed, being all at the gate, at which they should pass, with all their wagons charged, as is foresaid, with their goods, and children, as they were then setting forward in their journey, there came against them, all the guard of the tyrant, which with horrible threats, crying a far of said unto them, arrest ye, stay ye, whither will ye, ye harlots? and approaching to them, commanded them in haste to return, overthrowing their Charriottes, and wagons, on the ground, with all their goods, and children in them. But these women, by means of the press, less able to return, ne yet to assure themselves in that tumultuous thrust, and that which was most lamentable of all, they saw their children slain, and dismembered under horse feet, and wagons, not able to help them in any sort, whatsoever. So that when these soldiers had chaste into their company again, certain women, and children that straggled out, hoping to have escaped their tyrannous, and bloody force, they drove them all together, as a flock of sheep, beating them, and laying them on, until they came to the palace, where when the tyrant had taken from them, all their money, or treasure, he did them to be imprisoned together, both themselves, and their children. This cruelty so much now displeased the citizens, which not knowing how, they best might move this tyrant to compassion, determined to send sixteen Vestal nuns, consecrated to Denis, being appareled in their most holy, and most religious habits, having also with them, all the sacred things in their Church, and so in good order, proceeded the right way to the palace, intending to crave mercy of the tyrant, for these women, and children. Wither when they arrived, the guard being moved, with their reverent solemnities, made them easy passage, to the presence of Aristotimes, who arresting to understand the cause of their coming, perceived at the first, both what their suit was, and coming thither, where at all wroth, turned him to his guard, checking them marvelously, for having permitted these nuns to enter. Wherefore the guard, without any respect, either to their, or sex, or Religion, with great wannes that they commonly carried in their hands, so miserably outraged these poor, and innocent women, that they most pitifully were both beaten, and bruised, or they might pass out from the court again: and farther, for that they presumed to enter into his presence, each of them was condemned in two Talentes unto him. In this city was there a noble gentleman that height Elanicus, two of whose sons, this tyrant had unjustly done to die, but the father's force (for that he was very old, and decrepit he never at any time feared, or suspected. This man not longer able to support this outrage, this unspeakable tyranny, and oppression of his country, determined by some means to avenge him on the tyrant. Now while these things thus stood, the citizens which were fled (as is foresaid) into Etolium, had gathered together, a certain company of soldiers, entering with them in arms, into the country of the Eleusions, where they gate certain holds, which they strongly fortified, and determining to arrest there, moving war so to Aristotimes, sundry others of the said country, came daily unto them, so that quickly they were grown to a reasonable multitude. By means whereof the tyrant, was in such a marvelous perplexity, that immediately he hasteneth to the above said dames imprisoned, and for that he was of nature fell, and cruel, he rather thought to obtain of them by minasing words, then by entreaty, or conrtuous speech, and therefore commanded them, with rigorous threatenings, that they should by Ambassadors, writ unto their husbands, that they immediately left, and retired, from their purpose, otherwise that he would murder all their children, & whip their wives naked about the city. To whom these women would not answer at all any thing, whence all in choler, with frowning face he crieth, acquaint me, I charge you, with your determinate resolution. But this poor company with fear all appalled, durst not to answer him one word in the world, each of them beholding, and looking on the others, as though they nothing had accounted of, or feared his malice. Now among the others, was there one Megestena, the wife of Temoleon, which as will for the nobility of her husband, as also for her own rare virtues, & honesty, was as the principal, honoured of all th' others. This woman at the coming, and entry of the tyrant, neither would herself rise, neither would she permit that any of the rest should, which at last, when she had advised her, of his discourse thoroughly, without moving from her seat, or doing any other reverence, answered without more as hereafter followeth. If in thee Aristotimes, were any kind of wisdom, or discretion, thou never wouldst address thyself unto us silly women, willing us to prescribe to our husbands by letters, what is most expedient for them, or what they aught to do, but rather shouldst send us safely hence unto them, using thyself in words more discrite, and sober, farther in thy deeds shouldest thou also be more considerate than thou lately waste, when thou in this sort diddeste, both imprison, and abuse us. And now again perceiving, that there remaineth to thee, none other practice, wouldest use us as instruments, with words to deceive, and delude our husbands, as thou lately in like sort haste abused us, thou losest thy labour, and travaileste in vain, for we by thee again, will never so be betrayed. Neither think thou them on the other side, to be in deed such wantoness, that only to gain the lives, of these their children, to keep, and save their wives from momentary ignominy, they will leave to pursue, that which so honestly they now have enterprised, that I say, which they are bound to do, for the liberty of their country: for the loss of us, and their children, shall not be so grievous unto them, as they shall be well satisfied, if they may deliver their country, and their neighbours from thy tyranny. Megestina this about, yet to have said more, the tyrant could no longer refrain his ire, but in furious rage, commanded her child to be brought him, whose blood himself threatened presently, to spill before her, but whilst his ministers sought the child, among the others then there prisoners, the mother with marvelous constancy, called him by his name, saying: Come hither to me o my little son, to th' intent thou rather die in my hands, which tenderly love thee, then with the sword of so barbarous, or monster, or tyrant. These words more moved Aristotimes then before, which laid his hands on his falchion, incontinently to have slain her: but Cilon then present, one of his familiars, stayed him, labouring to appease his hard, and cruel malice. This Cilon was one of them, which with Elanicus secretly, sought the ruin of this tyrant, not longer able to support, or to endure his villainy. And in fine by good hap, so much prenailed with him, that he did again his sword into his scabbard, showing him that it was a deed most shameful and ignominious, and of all others most unworthy of a prince, to lay violente hand, or do force on a woman. Shortly after a strange, or prodigious matter befell, fore showing the assured fall, and ruin of the tyrant, for being in his bed, himself, and his wife, while the Cooks in the morning were busied, providing his break fast, an Eagle was seen to fly, with meruailons impetuosity, directly over the palace, letting fall a stone upon the kings chamber, presicely against that place, where he lay in his bed, and with the same giving, a great, and loud scriche, vanished out of the sight, of all such as beheld her. The tyrant them awaking, through the noise of his people, which well beheld this strange adventure, & marvelously amazed at the discourse thereof, caused to be called incontinently a soothsayer, in whom he reposed great trust, and confidence, to know (if it were possible) what this might signify: who bad him to be of good courage, and merry, and that this none other thing, at all denoted, but that jupiter had care of him, and favoured his doings. But to the citizens, he said the contrary, to whom he was assured, that he might utter frankly, and without offence his mind, especially for the malice they bore to Aristotimes, for he eftsoons warranted them, that the tyrant was then threatened from heaven, and then presently lived in greatest danger that was possible. Whence Elanicus with his company, supposing it not good, to protract the time any longer, determined to assail him the next day following. This night then coming Elanicus dreamt, that one of his sons came to him, tofore executed by the tyrant, which with a loud voice cried earnestly, and said: father, why keep you your bed? why lie you now sleeping? why slack you your matters? why stay you so long? doubt you any thing to morrow, to be Prince of this city? Elanicus affiing then marvelously in this vision, hastened in the morning early, to find out his confederates, which he exhorted without stay, to set forward in their business. Even in this same instant, news came also to Aristotimes, that Craterus was come with great force, to aid, and assist him, and that they presently, encamped nigh unto Olympia: whence he waxed so glad, and joyous, that he then thought no occasion remained more, of fear, and on a bravery issued out of the palace incontinently, accompanied only of Cilon, not looking, or caring for his guard, that scatteryngly a loof, and far of followed him. Which thing Elanicus perceiving, and thinking that occasion, was then well offered, not giving the sign betwixt them appointed, lifted up his hands, to the heavens, and with a loud voice said: what, longer abide you, ye valiant, and courageous? Why show you not your prows, in the middle here of your city? Then Cilon immediately draweth out his sword, and slew one of them, that in haste, was come to wait on the tyrant out of the palace. And on the other side Aristotimes, seeing both Trasibolus, and Lampidus assailing him, and supposing to escape them, fled to the Temple of jupiter, where he was slain, by the multitude pursuyug him, and his body drawn out thence, in the sight of all men, liberty being proclaimed throughout the whole city. The multitude in heaps, incontinently then assembled, but few yet came to see or behold, that loathsome carrion, before these women were delivered, which hastening to that place, ioiously honoured them, that by the death of the tyrant, had delivered their country. In the mean time, the people running in haste to the palace, where the Queen, advertised of the death of her husband, dreading much that, which in deed ensued, locked herself up in her closet secretly, where she strangled herself, without the helping hand of any. Now had this tyrant two very fair daughters, both of ripe years, and ready to be married, which understanding of the fall of their father, withdrew theimselues, in all haste apart, into their cabinette, whence they incontinently were drawn out, by force of the people, and divers ready, violently, and without more to have slain them, Megestena, with the rest of the imprisoned women, skilfully appeased that their raging fury, heseching them to abstain, from the young gentle women, considering the tyrant (though other wise fell, and cruel) had never yet, they all being his prisoners, imbrued himself in the blood of any one of them. At the request them of these dames, each weight was soon appeased, which after consultation, resolved on this point, that with their own hands, they should do themselves to die, choosing what death so ever, was to them best liking. Then were they both shut into a chamber together, the elder neither in gesture, nor in word, showing any kind of sorrow, took from her waste, her girdle, fastening it to a post, and being ready therein to die, exhorted her sister, with manly courage to do also the semblable: but the youngest then taking her sister by the hand, besought her most humbly, that she might die first, to whom the other answered: even as since our cradles, having still lived, and continued together, I never yet denied you any your demand, so am I contented, to accord you again this your last, and fatal suit, which is, that I live until you be dead, although of all others, this assuredly will go nighest me, to see thee mine own sister, to be strangled here before me. Now took then the youngest in hand her girdle, which with trembling fingers most pitifully she knotted, the other advising her well, to fasten it about her neck, that she more quickly, and more easily, might pay the tribute due unto nature▪ which she soon after her fare well given to her sister, dolefully accomplished. When she now was this paste and gone, the other stretched forth her body, in most reverent manner possible, semblably covering it, as appertaineth to the dead. After which she turneth about to Megestena, most humbly entreating her, that after her death, she would not permit her body to lie naked on the earth, which her request, being easily granted, she turning strangleth herself, in the same girdle of her sister.   

¶ Why, and for what causes, men rarely aspire, to the assured perfection of things in this life. Chapt. 9  
Five principal things are there, that distourne man from the ripe, and mature cognition of things in this life, which if he well knew, he then might repute himself for perfect, and wise. The first is the ignorancy, or not knowing, of his end, to wet, his not knowing, to what end he is borne. For assuredly, if he well knew it, he would no thing less pain himself, to attain there unto, than he presently doth, to aspire to pomp, and honour, in which (appetite ruling him) his only felicity seemeth to consist. But in this case, I may compare man, to a kings son in his infancy, of whom, if you will ask, which he loveth better, the succession of a kingdom, or else an apple, or a cherry, which presently you shall offer him, it may not be doubted, but he will refuse to be king, to play with, or taste of the apple, or cherry, and that; for that tofore, he percase thereof hath tasted: So fareth it with man, who if he be demanded, which he most affecteth, or riches, or learning, he at first will desire, to be master of money, ignorant, and less witting, that the learned only, and he alone is rich, and father, that it also is necessary, that the sage still order, and govern his country, and that also without knowledge, honour is not honoured, but rather becometh a note of ignominy, and slander, and that great wealth also without good letters, is the true path to senslis brutality, the root of presumption, and accomplishment of rusticity: but the wise sufficeth to direct himself, and others, posseste of these threasures, that never may fail him. But this all happeneth unto man, for not knowing, to what end he is borne. The second is, the immoderate use of pleasures, of the mind, as well as also of the body, which both annoy, and drown, no less the exterior motions to virtue, than the interior also, and these of the spirit. So that man so folded in the filth of this world, may well be resembled, to the daughter of a Prince, fair, and beautiful, to whom also appertained after her father, the kingdom, but for having committed fornication, with a bond man deformed, and odious, is deprived thereof, to her eternal infamy. The third issueth of the evil disposition in man's body, whence man, of learning, and good letters, for the most part is incapable: and this some times is caused, by the place of his birth, whence he taketh to be, of an imperfect, and impure complexion, as in certain countries in the East, where, as in parts of Africa, men are borne so senslis, and bestial, by mean of the extremity of heat in these soils, that they live as brute beasts, incapable of reason: and on the other side, in the country's Septentrional, or north, in other some places, by extreme coldness, are men borne, so wild, and savage that some of them refuse not, to feed on man's flesh, such are the Goths, and Ostrogothes, with others. And these people may be compared to an Eagle, in whose foot there is fastened a stone, of some weight, which letteth her, there to fly, where by nature she desireth, to weet, above the clouds, in the supreme, and highest, region of the air. The fourth is the difficulty, and hardness of the sciences, for though man see, that in heart, and mind he desire, to search the truth, and causes, of haute, and profound matters, yet finding them so labourous, and hard to understand, he utterly giveth over his first attempt, and enterprise, and becometh like unto an eye, which to look on the Sun, fasteneth itself closely, whence issueth such a piercing, and extreme brightness, that it so eclipseth, and troubleth the sight, that it in no wise is able to look thereon, or abide it. The last, and worst of all the others is, a certain affection, which man hath conceived in his youth, especially in these things, in which he hath been fostered, and bred up, with long continuance afterward in the same, for custom easily converteth itself into Nature, by occasion whereof, there groweth in man, a most assured desire and singular love in these things, where unto he hath been usually accustomed, hating, and disdaining continually the contrary: and in this error the whole world is this day almost drowned. For see we not the same, in the young children of the Turks, which before they come to be of judgement, or reason, abhor, and detest all christianity, as doth also the Jew. Again we see, that the peasaunte, or country man, for having been nourished, and accustomed to the country, dieted, and appareled grossly, as is their manner, flieth, and refuseth the acquaintance, or company of the courtier, as also of these others, that live in well ordered, and civil cities: whence 
A proverb among the Frenchmen.  riseth this proverb, unhappy is that bird, that was bred in an evil vale, for having been fostered, and still kept in the same, she can not at any time departed thence, and leave it, though assured to be else where better, and at more ease. Neither in this case only, have we experience here of, but farther ourselves hate strangers, and these of an other country, yea, though we never lived in their company, or saw them, only perchance, for that we have heard evil of them. In women also is this error notorious, to whom so much please these things, that they have accustomed, which though they be in deed, less profitable, or honest, yet may they in no wise learn, or receive the contrary. Finally this love, of use, or custom, with the disliking of that we know not, is almost generally seen, in all things of election. Wherefore we must banish from us, every these impediments, to the end we may know (if it be possible) perfectly to judge, in cases of difference: for in these things consisteth the absolute perfection in this world, the path also is it, to felicity in the other: following the good husband man, that well laboureth his soil, taking from it first, all thistles, and evil weeds, and after bestoweth in it, as order asketh, good seed. So also the Physician that would restore to health, his sick, and weak patient, purgeth him first, of all his corrupt, and superfluous humours, for that in a matter evil, and ill disposed, a new form easily, and at the first, is not induced. We then must endeavour by all means possible, for man that is reasonable, and yieldeth not unto reason, but dwelleth still, as wedded, to his own fond appetite, is as he that would sail, on the top of high mountains, or build him houses on the restless, and surging waves of the sea, which both are less advised, and fruitless imaginations.   

How unlawful a thing the cumbate is, and that princes aught not in any wise to permit it. Chapt. 10.  
AS by the cold charetie, and malice of men abuse is crept into all things in the world, so falleth it out in the cumbate, or fight of two, which in the beginning in ceirteine cases and doubts of great controversy, which otherwise could not be determined, or decided, was then by great princes, when hostility, and war first began to grow, upon just consideration honourably received. But in this our age, it now is, so common, and so abused, that every private, and mean Soldier, for little cause, or small matter is ready to attempt the cumbate against his adversary. And that which giveth me greatest cause of marvel, is to see that Christian princes, and none others admit it, to whom, above all others it expressly is, prohibited and denied, and yet groweth it still, to be such, and so common, that if God for his great mearcies' sake extinguish not the memory thereof, I fear me, that prelate's, and church men, will not shame at the last as valiant champions to enter the lists among others. This kind of fight is denied man, first, and especially by god's word, it also is denied him by the Civil, and Canon law, it is denied, I say, to the party that demandeth it, also to him that permitteth, or aucthoriseth it, and in fine to all such as would look on, or behold it By God's word we prove it, in this sort to be denied. Every act by which GOD may be tempted, is to a Christian expressly prohibited, for it is written thou shalt not tempt thy Lord, thy God. That God is tempted by this means, this make I it evident. To make proof of these things, which by none other means, might be brought to good end, but by the only providence, and justice of God, is no thing else, but to prove, and tempt God, as is sin in cases of purgation, wherit evermore is most plain, and evident, that according unto the order of nature, the strongest, and most valiant overtroweth the weaker: but the contrary (which is that the less able should conquer the other) never chanceth but by miracle only. To such then in force and courage so different, entering the lists to fight the cumbate, the victory is looked for at his hands, that maintaineth the just quarrel, to the intent the truth, might be thence apart, and manifest: this tempt we then God, willing that he work herein miraculously, that which in deed, he should do, if the more valiant were subdued, by the timorus, and impotent, which were clean contrary, to the order, and law of nature. Again we may in like sort prove it by this argument: when the law inhibiteth any thing, it also inhiteth in any wise to do that, by means of which a mammaie commit the thing inhibited, sith then to us, by God him selselfe, murder is nenied, the cumbate is also by the same reason denied, for that thereby is committed homicide. Or other wise again it might be said in this sort: in holy wrete is forbidden every act that accordeth not with charity, which is the sole ground, and foundation of virtue, but the cumbate is an act, that accordeth not with charity, charity being none other, but the love of God, and our neighbour, therefore the cumbate in holy write is forbidden, for who so entereth the lists, thirsteth as is evident, the blood of his neighbour, traitorously rebelling, and disobaiing the divine majesty. Finally it also is forbidden by the Canon law, for that it followeth the rule of the Scriptures in all things: by that reason then that it is prohibeted in the one, it also is prohibited, and forbidden in the other. By the law of reason it also is prohibited, for whatsoever is contrary, or repugnant to natural equity, is by the law of reason also prohibited, which reason standeth grounded on natural equity: and natural equity willeth, that the same that committeth the crime, should for the same crime also be punished the innocent not hurt, or annoyed in any thing, but the contrary is oft-times seen and known in this case. Again natural reason, on which is grounded (as we have said the stay of man) laboureth chiefly for the preservation, and augmentation of man kind: but by this policy, the destruction, and diminution of man kind is hastened, this policy therefore exileth from natural reason. And surely no thing, may be farther of from love, or natural reason, then is this unjust practice of the cumbate, for therein are permitted men to murder each the other, for whom our saviour paid that inestimable price of his death, and bloodshed. Also in this sort may we argue against it, no man aught to purchase to himself honour, or profit, by the detriment of an other: or this, no man aught to wish to an other, that which he could not be contented, to wish to himself: but in the cumbate is evident both the one, and the other, for that who so demandeth it, searcheth his own glory, by the ignominious depravation, and detriment of an other, to wete of him against whom he fighteth, his neighbour: and wisheth also to him, that which he, in deed, less would to himself, I mean both to subdue, and kill him. The cumbate is therefore utterly to be refused. Out of the Civil law, we also in this sort may argue: the law prohibiteth every act, by which justice either is, or may bedenied to any, but in this case it eftsoons is denied to the innocent, for he falleth in the lists, & his adversary triumpheth, by the said law therefore it cometh to be denied.   

Of the great constancy of the Aritafila, with her honest policy, and delivery of her Country. Chap. 11.  
THe constancy of the noble Aritafila, of Cyrena, meriteth to be spoken of in all times, and ages. The daughter was she of Eglator, and wife to Fedim, which in noblelesse and wealth was reputed for one of the worthiest in that City: she also in beauty no less excelled, than she did in wit, with a marvelous facility, and sweetness in talk. It chanced now that Nicocrate, 
Some read Nicocreon.  cruelly, and tyrannously oppressing the country, had done to death divers honest citizens, and among others his execrable, and intolerable villainies, he also executed Melnaipus Apollo his priest, to th' intent himself might usurp the office sacerdotal. Shortly after by dishonest guile, he did Fedim also to die, the huseband of Aretafila, taking her to wife by force, and against her will, not leaving from time time, to abuse the poor citizens, waxing every day more fell, and more cruel than other, so that on a time in his rage, and fury, he blooddely flew a great number in one instant, and for that the usage was to bury them without the City, was advertised, that divers living, were noised to have been of the number slain, to the intent they might be carted out of the town among the dead, so to escape his impacable malice, by means whereof he sent a great troup of his Soldiers, immediately & in all haste, to keep the gates, which with long weapons, and péekes of Iron, red hot with the fire, punchte, and pearste all that past them in most unreverent manner, by that means to make proof, whether any there lived or not. These things displeased much Aretafila his wife, which moved to great compassion, through the love she bore to her country, besides that she hated him, for his tyranny executed against her best beloved Fedim, determined, in fine, to hazard her life, to bereave the tyrant (if it were possible) of his. And although Nicocrate most ardently loved her, not leaving any pain to please, and content her, yet could he not for all that altar her honourable determination: so that when all the other citizens through the great force of the tyrant, were all in despair, of freedom, or liberty, she alone still continued, in assured hope and confidence, by some mean to dispatch him and to deliver her country. For the more assured performance of this her determination, she calleth to memory the noble valiancy of Ferea that renowned Theban, whose courage, & virtue she determined in the accomplisment of this so great, and weaghtie a matter to imitate, and follow, and for that she had none assistants, as had the other many, she resolved to impoison him, in close and secret manner, by means whereof herself, was, in great danger of death, as shall be here after said, for that she eftsoons failed, with such convenient opportunity to minister her potions, as herself still desired, and at last suspected and taken with the manner, was not able to excuse herself, with manifest proofs, convicted of that folly. Whence Caluia the mother of the tyrant, which more then fatally hated her, and as a woman of fell, and mearciles courage, persuaded with her son to execute her in most shearpe, and cruel manner. But the great love that Nicocrate baere her, with her assured constancy, and valiant courage on the other side, answering so wisely to every her accusers, caused that her death was not hastily pursued: howbeit after long and many examinations, being most plainly, and apertly convicted, not able to excuse herself, but that she had provided it, in the presence of the judges, she boldly said this much. I confess my Lord, and husband, that this drink by me was, and by none other provided, of purpose to have given, or bestowed it on you, but not that I ever thought, or in any wise knew that it was either noisome, or venomous, but continually I supposed it to be a confection amorous, for seeing that I was envied of sundry Ladies, and gentlewomen, especially for that it pleased you so well to think of me, as also for that they see me advanced in honour above them, and doubting least they might allure you, by some means also to favour them, I provided this potion, to increase, and continued your good affection towards me. Wherefore if I any thing have herein offended, surely I aught not in troth to be punished, for that only love, to attempt it, and no thing else hath moved me, and not as some would, or malice or rancour, and yet never the less if I must be punished, death have I not deserved as an impoisoner, but as a woman that through to much love have devised enchantments, or licours amatory, to force her husband no less to love her, than she both hath, and doth love him. Thus she with a sober countenance, and like grace, in defence of herself, seemed of part to have satisfied, and contented the tyrant, wherefore, he would not that she should in any wise be done to death, but commanded, that she should be laid on the rack, where through torment she might answer a truth to each demand. Caluia now provided with diligence the rank, doing her to be tormented in most cruel manner, besides that herself also in person left not to play her part therein, until at the last she was as weary, as was possible for her to be. How be it, Aretafilia confeste no thing at all: by means whereof she was in the end delivered, and received as inculpable, by the tyrant Nicocrate, which sorrowed mearueilously, for that he had done her in such sort to betormented, and being vanquished with love, practised with gifts, and jewels, to reconcile her again unto him. But she as a wise, and prudent dame, feigned that she could not but love him continually, but having laid up in her bosom the memory of these torments, attended the time only, and place, to avenge her, and whilst she often times devised with herself how she best might accomplish it, behold this occasion, in happy time offereth itself. She had by Fedim a daughter of rare, and excellent beauty, virtuous with the same, and very well nurtered, as also Nicocrate a brother that height Leander, young, and dissolute, haunting in every corner, the company of women, whom notwithstanding to acquaint, with this her daughter, in secret, & close mean she laboured continually, in such sort that by enchantments, and other pretty confections, which had been for the more speedy accomplishment hereof taught her, she easily constrained him to love and like her, principally for that the maid, was by her mother tofore instructed, to show him what in her was, all notes of love, and loyalty. After this, she so wrought here in, that Leander besought his brother to give him this maid for wife, and companion in ●ead, which he easily obtained, by the consent of Aretafila. This marriage now solemnized, Leander that loved beyond measure this young dame, never had his fill, or was satisfied in disporting with her: wherefore on a night by the counsel of her mother, she persuaded with him to procure the death of his brother, to attempt and take in hand a matter so honourable, as was that by his death, to deliver his country from tyranny. And farther she added, that he might be assured, that the citizens in recompense thereof, would choose him for their King, besides that, if he did it not, if happily his brother by some other means were slain (which was impossible for him long to escape) that his life also then could not be but in hazard, laying evidently before him, by manifest examples, the execrable, and barbarus cruelty of his brother, which only deprived not the citizens of their liberty, but also him that was his natural brother, and that this is true, said she, consider that it was not in thy choice, to take to thee a wife, but that thou first must become, a long, and humble suitor. Leander then at the persuasion of his wife, at that instant resolved to conspire the tirannes' death, especially understanding, that it well pleased Aretafila. Wherefore breaking, and imparting with Dannides, his most trusty, and assured friend, did by his help, and advise therein so much, that he shortly after had slain him, himself crowned king, and Prince of the country, whence he straight grew, to be of such puissant authority, that he by little, and little contemned Aretafila, and her counsels, so that he rather made it evident unto all the world, that he was an homicide, and murderer of his brother, and not a conspirer of the death and fall of the tyrant, for continually he governed the people with injustice, although he yet again afterward somewhat began to reverence, and honour his mother in law. Wherefore privily by letters, and messengers sent him, she persuaded with Anabe a Lybian borne, a captain courageous, and very fortunate (seiing that she had not yet delivered her country from tyranny, minding also to dispatch him as the other) to enter in arms on the territories of Leander, which he did, and being entered, with his whole army, she calleth Leander, and immediately telleth him, that neither were his captains equal either in experience, or prows to these of the enemy, and that it should also less advantage him, to much to trust, or affy in his people, not yet so surely planted, as he supposed, in that city, wherefore her advise was, that he should by all means, labour to pacify, and appease the wroth of Anabe, promising that herself would find some way for him, gently, and quietly to confer at full with him. This counsel of his mother in law pleased well Leander, by means where of she laboured, to bring them both together: howbeit, before the time of meeting appointed, she sent certain assured, and secret messengers to Anabe, humbly entreating him, that when Leander came to him, that he either would kill him, or at the least retain him prisoner, promising to requited him therefore, to his full contentation. Whereunto this Lybian accorded, promising most faithfully to accomplish her demand. But Leander of nature fearful (as commonly are all, & every these tyrants) differred, and prolonged from day to day this Parle: till at length through the earnest instigation of Aretafila, who charged him both with inconstancy, and cowardice, especially for that herself would go to the enemy with him, went forth all unarmed, at last to meet with Anabe, whom when he saw coming with a certain company with him, he arrested him saying that he would go no farther, but all amazed with fear, would then send for his Guard. Whence she some times encouraging him, some times also with rough words reproving him, did still her busy pain to push, and thrust him forwards, and in fine took him herself by the arm, as well to harden him, as by force also to draw him, till in the end she waS come to Anabe with him, into whose hands she delivered him captive, and prisoner, who curiously then, and safely kept him, until he had received the whole sum of money promised him. After this she returned into the City again, where she discloased (as is above said) the whole order of this matter, uttering every her polices practised for the delivery of her country. Which known, this money was immediately gaithered, and sent as was promised, forth with to Anabe, which also delivered Leander in chains to his mother in law, whom she again committed to the keeping of the magistrate, by whose commandment he was cloasde up, into a great sack of Leather, and cast into the Sea, such was his ending: Caluia his mother was also burned. Now all the country came running to Aretafila, and falling on their knees did her the greatest honour that was in any wise possible, especially for that, with such and so great hazard of her person, she had delivered her country out of the hands of two tyrants: and farther in recompense of these her demerits, they chose her governess (to be assisted with certain others) of their country: which she courtuously (as was her manner) and thanckfully accecepted, paining herself in the administration of justice until all things were reduced in to perfect, and quiet state, and afterward giving up her office in to the hands of the Senate, withdrew herself in to a house of religion, among Noonnes, where she lived in contemplation, and prayer the residue of her life.   
The end of the fourth and last part.   

 

  

  

  

   

A TABLE OF ALL THE MATTERS CONTAINED IN this book, and first of the first part.  

WHy in the first age men lived longer, then in this our age present. Chap. 1. fol. 1. pag. 1.  
That the opinion of those, that supposed the years of the former age's paste, to have been more short than these of our time, is false. As also which was the first City of the world, and finally that our Forefathers had more Children, than these that are remembered to us in the Scriptures. Chap. 2. fol. 3. pag. 1.  
Of the excellency of Secrettes, and in what sort a secret aught to be covered, with certain Examples serving to that purpose. Chap. 3. fol. 5. pag. 2.  
How commendable a thing it is, to talk, or speak few. Chap. 4. fol. 10. pag 1.  
Of the strange opinion of the Egyptians, touching the term, or end of man's life: limiting the same by the proportion of his heart. Chap. 5. fol. 11. pag. 2.  
Of the first beginning, and spring of War: as who were they, that first invaded strange Countries, with the inventors of certain Weapons, and Arms: who also first found out the use of Artillery. cha. 6. fol. 13. pa. 1.  
For what cause man goeth upright: as also why fasting, then when he hath eaten, he evermore is found more weighty, and poisante: and why in conclusion he poiseth more dead than living, with others, such not impleasant accidents. Chap. 7. fol. 15. pag. 2.  
Of the excellency of the head, above all other members of the body, and that it is not good to have a little head, or strait breast, as also whence it is, that we account it courtesy, to take of the Cap, or Hat, in saluting an other. Chap. 8. fol. 17. pag. 2.  
That man's death is to be accounted fortunate, or less fortunate, according to the estate that himself shall die in: with certain example serving to that purpose. Chap. 9 fol. 19 pag. 2.  
What speech was used in the beginning of the world, and how first began the diversity of languages. chap. 10. fol. 21. pag. 1.  
Of the division of ages, of the world, with a brief discourse of divers Notable matters chanced also in them, as also in fine, of the beginning of Realms and Kingdoms. Chap. 11. fol. 23. pag. 1.  
Of the strange life of Diogenes, surnamed Cinicus, as also of his Sentences, Propositions, and Answers. Chap. 12. fol. 28. pag. 2.  
Of the excellency and commendation of travail, as also of the damages that grow of Idleness. Chap. 13. fol. 32. pag. 1.  
How detestable a matter Cruelty is, with some examples serving to that purpose. Chap. 14. fol. 37. pag. 2.  
How for the most part, cruel kings, and bloody tyrants are the Ministers of God: and how notwithstanding they continually end in state most wretched, and extreme misery. Chap. 15. fol. 42. pag. 2.  
Of a strange case, which at two diverse times chanced, after one and the same sort, unto two Roman Knights of honourable Family. Chap. 16. fol. 44. pag. 1.  
Of the distinction of the age of man, according to the opinion of most Astrologians. Chap. 17. fol. 45. pag. 1.  
Of certain years in man's life, which the learned in times passed judged above the others to be marvelous dangerous, as also for what cause they esteemed it to be so. Chap. 18. fol. 49. pag. 1.    

THE TABLE O● the second part.  

WWhat danger it is to murmur against princes, as also what commendation they gain by clemency. Chap. 1. fol. 50. pag. 2.  
Of what country Pilate was, and how he died, as also of a river so called, and of the property of the same, and finally, of a certain cave, or den in Dalmacia. Chap. 2. fol. 52. pag. 1  
In what degrees, and at what age a man and woman should marry. Chap. 3. fol. 54. pag. 1.  
Of the cordial and hearty love, that should be in marriage, with divers examples serving to that purpose. Chap. 4. fol. 59 pag. 1.  
Of the strange customs observed by our elders in marriage. Chap. 5. fol. 61. pag. 2  
Of the excellency of painting. Chap. 6. fol. 64. pag. 2.  
Of that excellent Painter Apelles, as also of Protogines another in his time. Chap. 7. fol. 66. pag. 2.  
Of a strange manner of exile used in Athens, by means of which the most honourable and worthiest personages were oftentimes banished, without any offence, or fault at all committed. Chap. 8. fol. 69, pag. 2.  
Of sundry excellent personages, which by the ingra. titude of their Country, have unkindly been banished. Chap. 9 fol. 72. pag. 2.  
Of a strauge adventure betide a certain prisoner, and how after his weary imprisonment, he was in the end made free and delivered. Chap. 10. fol. 75. pag. 1.  
That the blood of a bull causeth them to die that drink thereof at any time, as also, who first brought the Bull to the yoke. Chap. 11. fol. 76. pag. 2.  
Now necessary water is in all the uses of man's life, of the excellency of this element, and how to find or try, the best water from the other. Chap. 12. fol. 78. pag. 1.  
By what policy we may draw fresh water out of the Sea: and why cold water in falling maketh greater noise than it would do, if it were warm: finally why a ship on the salt water, beareth greater weight then on the fresh. Chap. 13. fol. 81. pag. 2.  
Of the renowned and great Tamburlaine, of the kingdoms and countries that he subdued, and finally of his practice, and manner in war Chap. 14. fol. 82. pag. 2.  
Of many Lakes, and fountains, the waters of which have many strange properties. Chap. 15. fol. 87. pag. 2.  
Of divers strange things, which happened at the birth and death of our Saviour Christ, recited by sundry famous, and learned historians, besides these that are recorded by the Euaugelistes in the scriptures. Chap. 16. fol. 92. pag. 1.  
Of many places alleged by sundry good authers, making mention of christ, and of his life. Cham 17. fol. 95. p. 1. That men borne of base condition, should not leave, by all means possible, to attempt to reach, and aspire unto honour, with certain examples serving to that purpose. Chap. 18. fol. 99 pag. 1.  
Of the opinion that the old romans, and other ancient countries had of fortune, and how they placed her in the number of their Gods: in what form or figure they also depainted her: and finally that there is no fortune at all among the Christians, attributing the cause of all things unto God. Chap. 19 fol. 102. pag. 2.  
That sundry beasts, by some privy natural instinct, have foreknowleage of things to come: as also of many countries, by the only force of little worms, brought to be desolate, and forsaken. Chap. 20. fol. 106. p. 〈◊〉.    

THE TABLE OF the third part.  

HOw profitable a thing the invention of letters was, who first found or invented them, as also how the Hebrew Characters signify some thing of themselves, that which is incident to no other kind of letters, of what sort or kind so ever. cha. 1. fol. 104. p. 2.  
Where on our elders wrote before the invention of Paper, and with what kind of instrument, how Paper, and Parchment were first found out. Who first invented the manner or skill of Printing, as also what inestimable profit thence riseth, and in fine by what mean a blind man may writ. Chap. 2. fol. 111. Pag. 1.  
Of the first Libraries that ever were in the world, and how the men, of that time used, to have the Images or purtraites of the learned in them. Cham 3. fol. 113. pag. 2.  
Of the amity and enmity of sundry things, issuing by privy, hidden, and secret proprieties. C. 4. fol. 116. P. 1.  
By what means both amity and enmity proceed from the Heavenly, and Celestial influence: and why a man hateth or loveth an other. Cham 5. fol. 119. Pag. 2.  
That the memory may be hurt, and that it also by art, and by policy may be fortified. Cham 6. fol. 121. Pa. 1.  
In what honour, and reputation, Philosophers, poets, and all others, in what Art, or Science, soever they were learned, lived with Emperors, Kings, and Princes, in times past. Cham 7. fol. 123. Page 2  
That learning is necessary as well unto Princes as also to all Captains, that live at any time in arms. Cham 8. fol. 127. Pag. 1.  
Of a strange medicine, where with Faustine the wife of M. Aurelius was cured, languishing, and consuming with infinite, and extreme passions, of unchaste, and disloial love, as olso of some things remediing the said passions. Cham 9 fol. 130. Pag. 1.  
Who first did set or plant the Vine, who also did first to drink water in wine, to whom also, and how the romans first of all forbade, the use of wine, with some other things concerning this purpose. Cham 10. fol. 131. Pag. 2.  
Of infinite discommodities, which take their spring of wine immoderately used, as also what Physicians they were, that thought it good, and medicinable, some times to be drunk. Cham 11. fol. 134. Pag. 1.  
Of certain great Personages, which died, called hence by those, which before themselves, unjustly had caused to be executed, even in the instant, and time to them assigned, as also some what of the archbishop of Magonce or Ments. Cham 12. fol. 136. Pag. 1.  
Of a certain guile practised by a virtuous, and good Queen, towards her husband, by means whereof, James King of Arragon was begotten, and of his birth, and death. Cham 13. fol. 138. Pag. 2.  
Of an ancient and strange custom, observed by the inhabitants, of the Province of Carinthia, at the coronation of their Prince: as also how they sharply punished thieves. Cham 14. fol. 140. Pag. 1.  
In what part of the Zodiac the Sun, and the Moon, as also the other planets were in the creation of the world, and when they first were made, of the beginning also of years, and times. Cham 15. fol. 141. Pag. 2.  
That man may take example of Birds, Worms, and other creatures, to live a just, and a virtuous life. Cham 16. fol. 145. Pag. 2.  
Why triumphs were first used in Rome, as again how many they were, that there also triumphed, what a Triumph is, and that there is two sorts of them Cham 17. fol. 148. Pag. 2.  
What names the Roman Captains gained by their victories. Cham 18. fol. 154. Pag. 1.    

THE TABLE OF THE fourth and last part.  

OF the seven marvels, or wonders of the world. Cham 1. fol. 156. Pag. 1.  
What manner of women the Sibylles were, how many in number and of their prophecies, but especially of those that concerned Christ, and his coming. Cham 2. fol. 163. Pag. 2.  
Wherefore sleep by nature was given unto man, and that to sleep to much is both noisome, and domageable. Cham 3. fol. 167. Pag. 2.  
Of three sundry doubts, which the ancient Philosophers were never able to resolve, with the causes why Chap. 4. fol. 165. Pag. 1.  
What Ceremonies the romans used before they denounced war to any prince or country. Cham 5. fol. 167. Pag. 1.  
That it profiteth a Prince much to be fair and well fewtered. Chap 6. fol. 174. Pag. 1.  
Of the horrible tyranny of Aristotimes, a matter or subject not less fitting for a tragedy. Cham 8. fol. 177. p. 1.  
Why and for what causes, men rarely aspire, to the assured perfection of things in this life. Chap. 9 fol. 181. Pag. 2.  
How unlawful a thing the cumbate is, and that princes aught not in any wise to permit it. Cham 10. fol. 183. Pag. 1.  
Of the great constancy of the renowned Aretafila, with her honest policy, and delivery of her Country. Cham 11. fo. 184. Pag. 2.   
FINIS.   

Imprinted at London by John Kingston, for William jones, and are to be sold at his new long Shop at the West end of Paul's.