FALSE COMplaints.  
Or The Censure of an unthankful mind, the labour of Carolus Pascalius translated into English by W. C.  
A work very learned and fit for all Estates in this age of unnecessary discontentments, showing how all complain, but all without cause.  
Re●…pub. nunquam expedit ut sit Ingratae. Symmachus.  
AT LONDON. Printed by Humphrey Lownes, and are to be sold at the West-door of Paul's. 1605.   

To the Right Gracious and Noble Prince Henry, etc.  
SEeing all affections are employed to pay atributarie duty, to that great happiness, whereunto all are bound; let it not seem strange to any, if (after all others, and in an other manner) I presume, both to testify my humble duty, & to make offer of that service, which I am able to perform: I have done in this, little; saving only, giving occasion to your Princely towardness, for the increasing of both the tongues, to labour in this kind: there are few arguments, which carry with them more variety, better invention, sounder judgement, than this doth. And being a disease both common and dangerous, fit for all men to learn, how it may be cured; if your princely Wisdom vouchsafe but to read this translation, and compare it at sometimes with the author himself, you shall easily see, the excellency of the English tongue, not refusing to express with much propriety the elegancy of the hardest latin style; and withal, discern how all men, are almost weary of their own happiness, & how most, most unthankfully complain, that have least cause: It was not (though but a translation) a labour unfit for me, seeing it was so commended unto me, as a pains to you, and for you. And considering that your princely forwardness, promising great hope, in the perfection of all virtues hath been already thus blest, to receive in your infancy a Testamentary Council, full of the wisest precepts, that any man, ever uttered out of the seat of a King, since the days of Solomon: vouchsafe (Noble Prince) to accept these, though far weaker than the other (& peradventure, such as shall find little in you to reform of this error) yet they willshew unto your Highness a great part of that disease, wherewith the World at this day, is so much troubled. But howsoever; being for this time, all that, wherein I can express my humble affection, to your princely wisdom: I doubt not, but your Highness, will (both) pardon it, & accustom yourself, in your young years, to a diligent consideration of all those unspeakable blessings, that are heaped upon you; and doubtless out of this fountain of thankfulness, shall flow continual streams of far greater blessings. For which there are, and shall be many Zealous prayers, as incense offered daily up unto God, in your behalf, to whom nothing can be wanting, whereby, in all princely Graces, you may not exceed all that have been before you: If you yourself (which is not to be feared) be not wanting to yourself; thus desiring, that from above, your Highness may be continually blessed with all the blessings of Heaven, and earth: I do humbly crave pardon, and take my leave.  
Your Highnesses in all duty. W. C.   

To the Reader.  
TO tell you, that I have translated, this book shall be an honour to the Author, but a hazard (peradventure) of your opinions to myself. But seeing a desire to benefit others, must not look at those curious observations, which displease some: I thought there was small loss, if I benefited the better sort, though I gain unto myself the scoffing reprehension of some few; there are in my opinion few books of a more general information or fitter for this age; this age, this unthankful age, wherein all states (almost) are infected with this poison, to be discontent; and by reason of their discontentments to be unthankful; for there is no evil, that man sooner apprehendeth, than the opinion of his own; which maketh him (for the most part) an unjust esteemer of what good, he hath received, & so consequently unthankful unto him that gave it. If I could cure this disease, this natural and contagious disease (which groweth by the increase of sense and decay of virtue) I should in some things reform their judgements, whom I know to be far wiser than myself. I will not tell you (a thing too well known) how all conditions are unthankful, but I will say with my Author (which may serve to cure them) that the great and awful ruler of men, times, and things; the liberal and wife disposer of all that are annexed to man's life, Knoweth how to divide, much better, than we can choose. In this Treatise, thou shalt find much rypened wisdom to cure this sickness. If thou understandest the Author himself, read him, as he wrote; for he receiveth but darkness, and a blemish from my pen, Faults which I do unto him, yet against my will. If thou understandest him not, read this, for it is better to hear a good tale evil told, than not at all; it is labour to me, more than to thyself; If thou thinkest, that I am worthy small thanks, I know, in this I deserve as little blame; unthankfulness is that fault, which is reproved in this Treatise; I would be sorry this fault should be in thee, if it be, it is dangerous, seek to cure it, accept this well, and to me, thou art thankful enough; greater benefits require greater thanks; consider to whom thou art most bound, and make him the contemplation of thy thankfulness; so shalt thou make benefits, not to be losses; nor thyself unhappy.  
This which thou readest translated into thy own tongue (for thy understanding) is the work of a very wise, and great man; and such a one (as in my weak opinion) to Chronicle the civil wars of that great Kingdom France, hath not in the circuit of his large Empire, any more judicial, or more eloquent; I think a History written by him, would not be much inferior to that of Tacitus; whose impenetrable judgement (doubtless) had not been so great, if he had not set down great vices striving with great virtues; much evil, with much good; all concurring in new governors, what he hath performed in this, toward the curing of the common disease of unthankfulness, thou that readest, mayst easily judge; and though he need not, yet I crave thy pardon (courteous Reader) and so end. farewell, the 2. of October, 1604.  
W. C.   

The Contents of the Chapters of this book.  

1 A preface containing the reasons of undertaking this treatise.  
2 The stain of an unthankful mind is from hence, that man is ig●…orant of God's benefits, and his own worthiness.  
3 In the person of the base, he reckoneth his baseness, and from hence is angry, and complaineth against God for it.  
4 Falsely he complaineth of his baseparentage, who by the help of virtue, may obtain honour and renown.  
5 He that boasteth of his pedigree, is many ways unthankful to god.  
6 The Insolecie of him is confuted, who boasteth of his kindred, not of his virtue.  
7 The poor man is unthankful, who upbraideth God, which hath made him poor.  
8 In this I teach, that god hath not given less to the poor then to the rich.  
9 The rich man is no less unthankful than the poor; & of three sorts of rich men, Delicate, Prodigal, Sordid, and here in this Chapter of Delicate rich me.  
10 Of the Prodigal rich man.  
11 Of the Sordid and covetous rich man.  
12 Amongst unthankful persons, I find him who is troubled with sickness.  
13 Him that is worn with grief, in that he is unthankful, I neither pardon him, nor speak him fair.  
14 He also that is in perfect health is many ways unthankful.  
15 Kings & Princes are unthankful who reckon up what estimation men make of their calling, to take occasion from hence, to show how false it is, & how justly he may complain as being evil deals with all:  
16 Here the Prince goeth about to extenuate the opinion which the common people have of his sovereignty, for he proveth that he is compassed with miseries, that men may see in comparison of others how little he is bound to God.  
17 The prince proceedeth to reckon up those things which may diminish men's opinions of his felicity.  
18 Here I show by how many benefits the prince is bound to God; and in all these that he showeth himself unthankful:  
19 I do here admonish the prince that intending those things which appertain to his calling, he shows himself thankful; and mindful of gods benefits.  
20 To these former jannex more arguments that the prince may learn by them to acknowledge God's goodness & his great favours toward him.  
21 Here I show how this sin of unthankfulness is engrafted in man's nature, in that, children are no less unthankful than others.  
22 Here I do teach the Child how he may lay aside this infection. and show himself thankful unto God.  
23 Here I do teach that women are no less unthankful, than those whom I have remembered:  
24 Here the woman is diligently admonished, that omitting all unjust complaints against God she acknowledge, that the benefits upon her are not less than those bestowed upon men.  
25 The number of unthankful persons, none more increase than he that is of man's estate as appeareth by his unthankful complaining speech in complaining of the world:  
26 All the former reasons which concern man's estate are confuted, & he is seriously admonished to be thankful and to acknowledge God's benefits:  
27 Among unthankful persons I account the old man, whom neither the plenty nor the greatness of God's benefits: nor any wisdom gathered out of long experience can reclaim from this unthankfulness:  
28 The old man is blamed for his complaint, and admonished to acknowledge God's benefits; even in that respect, that he is old and near unto his grave.  
29 I do proceed to show unto the old man all those several benefits, which God hath heaped upon him.  
30 Of those that are unthankful to men:  
31 Of the punishment of unthankful persons:  
32 Every benefit received aught to be requited; and how it may be.   
Laus Deo.   

A Preface Containing the reasons of undertaking this Treatise. CHAP. 1.  
WHen I consider, why every man thinks himself evil dealt withal, that he is, that. which God would have him to be (Great & Right Honor.) (and that which is more worth and better than all titles) (right virtuous): I find no other reason; but that every man's unthankful mind towards God, is the fountain of this evil. For many are most sparing, but most, most unjust esteemers of his benefits: not so much accounting those things which they have received to be benefits, as those things which they have not received, to be losses; we pass all moderation with our shameless wishes, whilst whatsoever (foolishly) we covet wickedly, we hope; and whatsoever we so hope for, that with unsatiable eyes, and greedy unlimited thoughts we feed upon. From hence is our impatience, from hence are the perpetual complaints of men, from hence are the frantic & wicked speeches of raving impiety, from hence is that mutual rancour that burneth inwardly; In one word, there is no word so common in our mouths, as these cogitations are in our minds. O unaequall and Unjust Lost, how hast thou advanced him without all merit unto a high place, whilst thou holdest me who am (many ways) more worthy, in low estate; These and such like terms, we repiningly utter by reason of our rashness, and whilst in nothing we think humbly, in all things we overweiningly flatter ourselves; accounting whatsoever we receive, not to be given, but paid. And although no man be so impudent, that he dare openly accuse God; yet that which they speak not, they either murmur or conceal in the secret of their thoughts, and whilst every man bitterly complains of his lot that is not, he doth itreligiously think of God, who truly is; and whose name he concealeth his power and Majesty he despiseth. This inborn impiety with man's nature, I pursue with this labour in this treatise, neither do I it so much to confute inconsiderate and wicked speeches, as to control secret and impure thoughts; for from wicked thoughts arise infected and polluted words, and therefore to suppress those, is to repress these. Neither will I cirumvent or treacherously undermine this fault, but deal plainly, not deceitfully; I will lay open the deformities of this sin, I will pull up the roots of it, the boughs and branches I will cut off. Neither have I proceeded more slougthfully in this task, for that as soon as the title of this book is seen, I know many either disdainfully will repine, or (as the manners of most are) proudly scorning will say, what can there be in this argument either witty, or learned? Nay, what is there not here rather cold, frozen, worn, & common? For this argument is usually withal bitterness handled of the Preachers at this day, and plentifully in those books, which every vulgar eye may read. And beside peradventure they will say, these are but the fragments of some ancient wits, as the Tragedies of Aeschylus were of Homer. I confess, I am not ignorant, that the Argument of this treatise, must pass deprived of his chiefest commendation, and is unfit to show any exquisite learning, unpleasant to the care, and too low & humble, to participate with same. And lest any thing should happen new or unexpected; besides all these, I have considered with myself, the severity and distastes of Readers at this day; the delicacies of men's eyes, and ears; their whisperings and secret reproofs, that resolutely despising these, I might pass them over. With me the necessity of this meditation hath only prevailed, and that alone hath imposed this labour upon me. Neither can the rumours of the common sort, or the dark clouds of secret estimation, hinder me from observing those things which are fit, or from bridling (as far as I am able) these impieties, undoubtedly the best men, whose virtues (though with far distance it is honourable (even creepingly) to follow; have bestowed most of their leisure to this end. Neither have I from hence a confidence to overtake them, but a love to follow them. Neither is there in this, any ostentation of novelty, to slirre up or feed any man's curiosity. Scarce shall I say in this any thing, Famous, new, or as yet unspoken by others, there is little pleasant to the reader, or hearer; because I affect nothing less than curious trimming; I would please, I confess if I could, but I know not to smooth; I labour wholly to profit. I affect no name from hence. I do not ambitiously woo the voices of the learned, nor covet the applause of the multitude; I know these things are reserved for those wits that mount hire. For myself, who in humility scarce creep, it is sufficient not to be blamed; not to be provoked; whilst thus I labour to make some defence against those troops of vices, that are every where dispersed. To this I exhort all, against whom these monster's bark, chiefly unthankfulness, which is the worst of all; No sin sooner doth estrange God from Man then this; by no enemy, are we more cruelly and more treacherously undermined, then by this; with this monster, man can have no trust, but deceitful, no peace, but deadly. Our armour therefore must never be put off; as ever being in the sight of an enemy, most watchful to overthrow us. No combat is of such importance, no conflict of more resolution, nor any that requireth more valour? In this victory are all those things, that are propounded to be the reward of piety. But there is no conquest that is harder, later, or more doubtful. For this poison of unthankfulness (being plucked up) often groweth again; being subdued, often rebelleth, conquereth us often, when we think, we have overcome it: to conclude, unthankfulness is never extinguished in us, but by a piety most persevering and everlasting. Wherefore it is fit, that all virtuous and religious minds do stir up, and arm themselves, in the understanding and provision of such danger; and with continual and earnest prayers obtain of his divine goodness, necessary defences against such an enemy; He erreth, that in this, waiteth upon others; This business admitteth no delays, here every man must be a spur, and a guide to himself. Every man must stir up and awake himself with excellent examples. here every man must be an example to others, and whatsoever help is necessary for his own safety, that he must employ, for a common good. There is no virtue if it be seasonably used, wherein there is not some help and advantage for this victory; Often times those, whose charged is least, both in the Church and Commonwealth, if they labour that they may overcome; if with wishes, vows, endeavours, if with all diligence they favour this business, they are reckoned amongst Conquerors. Think (Right Honourable) thou that art the light of this age, that amongst these I account myself; if I be not in this conflict a captain of approved valour (as I confess I am not) yet in my holy wishes, I am a faithful soldier, who respect not myself only, but seek for a common good, to advance that charged, that is laid upon me. Now I earnestly entreat your Honour to patronize these papers (how mean soever they are) if you think they have any public profit in them; the thing is small, yet it attempteth a great work; and the matter at the first sight is easy, but if you look nea●…er, of more weight and severity. Whatsoever it be, it shall receive no small authority, from your authority. For all men almost that know you, so admire your unspotted, your humble and sincere behaviour, your grave and excellent wisdom, that they reverence you wholly, as some sacred and saving power. God hath bestowed so many great and excellent ornaments upon you, compassed you about with so many rich, strong and Honourable defences, of all which I might and would speak if it were not to yourself. And howsoever I may seem to have erred in other things, yet in this all that know you (and all almost that are virtuous know you) will think that I was wise, who have made choice of your Honour, as virtuously to admire and follow at other times, so to be a patron to this work; who have been ever a favourer of all those means, which do lead to virtue.   

The stain of an unthankful mind is from hence, that man is ignorant of God's benefits and his own worthiness. CHAP. 2.  
Whosoever understands, how he ought, not to accuse his estate and condition, but how thankful he ought to be toward God, hath ascended the highest step of piety; where daily less and less he is provoked with those spurs, with which men are driven (through their corrupt affections): from hence proceeded those unwise speeches of God, and those unjust complaints against him. But how hath every man not only not attained to this, but not endeavoured toward it. For who is there almost that accounteth not himself unhappy? That is, that professeth not, himself unthankful? Show me him, who hath that equal temper of mind; who doth measure his own happiness, in that measure that GOD accepteth, and not rather insolently, & with pride, treadeth under foot, tnoie benefits, wherewith God hath loaded him. If men could entreat of themselves to lay aside this pride, they should likewise lay aside their ignorance, and their eyes should be opened; those eyes, those equal eyes, wherewith they should look about, & within themselves.  
Themselves, that is, that great argument of this divine goodness. For man is the glass of God, wherein he beholdeth himself, and his benefits; truly benefits, because they are free, and indeed received of us, before they are either thought of, or expected by us: And indeed benefits, never enough known, never enough understood, or esteemed of us. O man, it is nothing, that God hath made a difference betwixt thee, and the lifeless, and senseless creatures? from those that are without reason? from all those who are created to this end: to bestow all their benefits upon thee: to admire, and worship thee? to thee, and for thy use, the Stars arise: they arise, as to their better: they strive to compass thee about with their heavenly light, to follow thee in obedience, with their favourable aspects, because they see thee to be man, and in man God. If this heavenly army, serve thee with such diligence, as being appointed to thy use, what ought, and must those do, in the midst whereof thou art placed? dost thou not know these things to be appointed for thy service? Thou commandest the Sea; thou rulest the earth, thou searchest the secrets of it, thou travelest to the furthest, and most unknown parts of it: whatsoever the air, the earth or the sea contains, whatsoever the floods, or the sennes have nourished, or whatsoever is contained in this rich warehouse, the globe of the Moon, all that is appointed for thy use: wilt thou look at things past, these are to thee present, these things that are present are set (as it were) before thine eyes, things that are to come (an unfallible argument of thy Divinity) thou collectest, gatherest, divinest, and representest, as if they were present. In one word, that which is called the World, is thy house, built, and every way richly furnished for thee: there is no part of it but is passable, known, & wide open to thee, as to his owner. Now it remains for thee, that thou know thyself what thou art.  
If thou know thyself, than thou shalt understand, that this great frame, and curious building, is bestowed upon thee, wherein, thou mayst govern, wherein, thou mayst teach thyself, to be worthy of this dignity: where thou mayst reward him, that is thy reward oer, with holiness, and a thankful mind. In this thy dignity, to represent the dignity of God in humane shape, thou shalt then (I say) understand, that thou art placed over this household as a Lord (I had almost said) as a God. These are thy birthrights; this is that excellency, whereunto thou art borne: Whereunto if thou labourest to be equal in the height of thy mind, than thou shalt plainly see, all these things placed below thy greatness. Thou shalt see nothing without thee, greater than thyself, nothing shall distract thee, puff thee up, cast thee down, or make thee sad. Then thou shalt deride so many foolish complaints, wherewith men do vex themselves, and their lives.   

In the person of the base, he reckoneth his baseness; and from hence is angry, and complaineth against God for it. CHAP. 3:  
I hear this man complain, that he is low borne, or rather basely; alas (saith he) wheresoever I am, there my baseness offereth itself unto me, not so much a persuader to make me desire to live, as an upbraider that I do live; that I am of obscure parents, it maketh me blush, and the Nobility to contemn me; I live obscurely, as an unknown part of the base multitude, neither doth my health, or strength, so much help me, nor any other thing that is bestowed upon me, as my base parentage doth cast me down. I am ashamed, that I have no honour from the commendations of my Ancestors; it is my reproach, that I am borne amongst the multitude, amongst those, who are more safely trodden upon, than the worms. Before we were, and he that is borne in high place, in this we were both equal, that we neither were, both of us lay then hid in that bottomless darkness, of those secrets that were to come; but as soon as we began to be, he obtained a famous, and honourable, and I a base, and unworthy condition. Alas, with what desert, either of him or mine? surely none; what unequal, and unjust power shall I call that, which hath compassed him new borne, and unknowing it with so great and glorious a light, whilst, I (undeservedly) do live in darkness? This is the first injury, and not to be forgotten, that I am unfortunately born; that he hath ancestors full of honour, and I full of baseness; that from him, all impediments are removed, that tend to honour; and that I must creep through obscure and unknown paths; and through so many lets must endeavour to that which is doubtful, and most uncertain.   

Falsely he complaineth of his base parentage who by the help of virtue may obtain honour and renown. CHAP. 4:  
YEa, and is it so? Darest thou call thyself base, whose kindred is with the Heavens, dost thou call that blood obscure and unworthy, from whence Kings may proceed? Hast thou no ancestors, who master (if thou tendest thither) pass along in the step of every man, that is excellent? I demand of thee, which is that ignoble and base multitude, wherein thou art borne? What, of brute beasts? Men are a Heavenly offspring; those are they (say you) which without controlment are trodden down: you speak of men, that are innocent, and accepted of God▪ with what strength soever they might have, choose rather to suffer, then to do injury. Oh, these are they, amongst whom, are the ancient, and uncorrupted manners. His condition and mind (you say) where both alike before we were. What, do you say there was a time, when neither of you were? yea rather, if you esteem yourself by that part, which truly is, you are not now born. Thou hast a soul derived from that everlasting divinity, which hath more truly beautified thee, with this title to be called man, than these sinews, flesh and bones, taken out of the earth, which are truly earth. All of us, are equally an offspring of the Gods, and therefore in respect of this original, ye are both equal. Thou art nothing I say, whosoever thou art, less, or inferior to him, whosoever he is. If any thing make a difference betwixt you, it is that earth, wherewith you are both covered. And is it this that troubleth thee? Do you esteem this a thing of that worth, that it should make you repent you of your condition? or rather if there be any blemish in this earthly parentage; why do you not blot it out with your virtuous arts? If there be any darkness, disperse it with a better light; if any baseness, advance it with virtue. Surely every excellent thing is low borne; and those, whom virtue first made eminent, she brought out of darkness. From hence they sent out most bright beams (as the Sun out of a cloud or storm) look upon those great lights of Antiquity (those famous professors, I mean of wisdom, and eloquence) and others excellent in all other Arts, Sciences, and learning; few of these but were meanly borne, and yet have engrafted their names to fame; that fame which we see is the inseparable companion of immortality. 
To Aesop Athens did that monument erect,  
And placed the servant on eternal ground:  
That virtue might to honour men direct,  
And not that greatness which in birth is found.   
Let me not remember other great & (for deserts) famous names, I mean the great performers of wars, and builders of large Empires, who wrestling out of obscure births, from low beginnings, have attained the height of things; compelling all things and men, to yield unto them with virtue, glory, and felicity. These are they who were the famous authors of that, which afterward was called the ancient progeny, which have made men believe that they are not borne of man, but of God: who after they had made the newness of their birth, great with virtue and admiration, they made themselves to be Imitated of all, and Imitable to few. These I account greater, than their posterities, and in the opinion of wise men, much more honourable, in that the giver is greater than the receiver, and the pattern then him that imitates, vainly we derive our sluggishness to our kindred; But he is noble enough, who hath that in him, whereby he may make himself noble: neither is virtue, from our stock, but contrary. Virtue only doth adorn men. It is that only, which maketh the everflowing and lasting stream of Nobility, Honour, and Glory. Who can therefore deny, but that humility or baseness, or whatsoever it be, is much bound to virtue, who only enableth all men, to become Honourable and excellent, He that carrieth himself worthy his ancestors, doth that which doth become him, but he that giveth an honour to others, is to his posterity a sacred deity. Ridiculously you object obscurity to those, who do draw after them an excellency, and whose late uprising doth eminently shine, amongst those that are excellent, for not to be degenerous, and the light we have received from our ancestors, to convey to our posterity; although it be worthy praise, yet it is common, this latter as it is more famous, so it is more difficult. This is that, which Honourable and unusual virtue doth undertake, at this it aimeth, to this it directeth itself; that to persons places and things unknown and obscure it may give Nobility. From hence we may conclude, not the lower a man is, but the worse he is, the more obscure he is: and an obscure kindred is a●… an unclean puddle, from whence none can pull a plant, but he to whom virtue doth reach her hand, and whom she undertaketh to advance and increase. If thou propoundest this, to ascribe thy greatness only to virtue, nor any other sinister means, by proceeding thou shalt be enriched, honoured, learned. And to conclude, than it shall be manifest unto thee, how untruly thou hast complained of God, by whose commandment thou art borne in that condition, which with much disdain thou callest baseness. Furthermore he, whom thou esteemest noble, doth bring forth the old and worm-eaten monuments of his ancestors, in this more vehement upbraiders of the unworthiness of their posterity. And thou, to whom, thy ancestors have left no outwrad ornament, where of thou mayst boast, draw forth out of the generous, virtuous, and noble heart (the lively image of the soul) true virtue; which thou mayst deliver to thy posterity to be imitated, subject to no age, to no forgetfulness. By this means thou shalt rise to honour, and with infallible arguments, leave thy true Nobility witnessed, and sealed to everlasting posterities. From hence mayst thou see how much thou art bound to GOD, who hath engrafted that in thee, whereby thou indeavourest thyself, thou mayst be excellent. And if thy affections be not so erected, nor thy liveliness so awaked, if thou dost not affect the highest dignities, if thou dost not aspire to these large advantages of praise, yet endeavour that thou mayst be found in the second rank. At the least compose thyself to Innocency and Simplicity; virtues no less acceptable to God, than the other that are more conspicuous. With these adorn thyself, and thy obscure family; so shall it come to pass that in this humility, thou shall find matter large and sufficient, to make thee thankful; which though they be not exquisite, or curious, yet they shall not want their commendation, being private and sincere; and by so much more acceptable to him, who will be worshipped sincerely and in truth. Thus by thy example and invitation, the rest of the unthankful multitude, shall learn to acknowledge, and worship that divine benignity; neither art thou only unthankful, for there is no mortal man that lieth not sick of this Infirmity.   

He that boasteth of his pedigree is many ways also unthankful to God. CHAP. 5.  
I See him also who swelleth with the long catalogue of his ancestors, to be no less unthankful to God, than he that is borne darkly & of obscure parents. And although he doth not expostulate with God ●…is condition, in g●…dging and complaining terms (such a●… usually are uttered from opinion & sense of misery) ●…t whilst ●…th contempt and insolency, he disdaineth others, he showeth his evil and unthankful mind, towards him that made him. In one word, he wholly swelleth with foolish cogitations, and doth as ill inter●…t the benefits of God, as he that is most unthankful; neither can it be marveled at, seeing he admitteth into counsel, Pride, Ignorance, Slouth●… all which possess him with an opinion of a false greatness, From hence he beginneth to esteem, and to love himself, and in the fruition of this persuasion to despise others. The multitude (that is the common sort) both of town & country, it is strange how he disdaineth. It is the property of a sluggish insolent disposition, to think that he hath right to use any man without respect as a vassal. For (saith he) I was no sooner a man, but I was borne Honourable. If I do respect both my parents, I am able to derive my pedigree from ancient memory, and Honourable families: From hence I have noble, and many affinities, upon which I may lean and support myself. My riches and estate are answerable to these; and that which chiefly contents me, I see base persons borne to scarcity, and the bondslaves of poverty. This man drudgeth continually at plough: that man all the day long sitteth at some sordid trade to gain his living: An other man he buyeth cheap, to sell dear: and to that end saileth with danger into foreign seas: Another, he studieth unpleasing learning, to make a gain of in the market; I do not mean in the market where things are sold, but the market of gainful knowledge, and the mercenary tongue, who ever finds out of other men's business a good advantage to enrich themselves. And the minds of all these, are base; and to this baseness are joined deceits; and as brokers to these deceits untruths. Now as I scorn all these courses, so I live as a King amongst them; and that which these labour for, to that am I borne. Therefore my mind is not, as every base fellows; groveling; but haughty, erected, and full of high thoughts. For it weareth not itself away, in these sordid and obscure things, nor lives entangled in any base gain. This is my excellent prerogative, that I am beholding to none. And other men before I was borne were in my debt, that men may understand that I am not borne to my substance, but my substance to me. Besides I have the best advantages to rise to honour, to come to great preferments; and what other men can wish for, that can I no sooner hope for, but obtain it. Last of all (which is the chiefest of all) that other men do live in safety, it is by the means of me, and such as I am. For if any public danger arise, then is the common safety required and expected, at our hands. It belongeth to our honours, to defend our countries, and offend our enemies. It belongeth to us, to have the charged, and the leading of them. We perform these businesses, as with the advancement of inferiors and mean persons, so with the in larging and increase of our own Honours.  
From hence are derived special ornaments to persons and families; from hence riches, authority; from hence fear and reverence amongst all; who will not confess, that he, that is nobly borne, blest as it were again, mighty in followers: great in honour: strong in power: lives the life, and the only living life? and that he hath cause sufficient, to gratulate his own good fortune, for his own happiness. And that he may proceed, to make experience, of his own felicity, in all things that himself desireth: therefore freed from all cares, I will take what pleasure so ever may be had: I am purposed to taste all that may season my life. Tush away with those sour fellows, which urge (if we would hear them) harsh and severe admonitions & do odiously impose upon us, I know not what sad wisdom gotten out of schools and hid in books; whereupon they often knit there severe brows, as if the common wealth did lie upon them: all which for mine own part, I esteem not a rush; and to say truth, to me there is nothing more odious, than these men, whom I may very well call ditchers to dig out truth of, and torments to vex other men's simplicities; for my own part I am taught sufficiently, by my Honourable ancestors.   

The insolency of him is confuted who boasteth of his kindred, not of his Virtue. CHAP. 1.  
I See thy disdainful spirit, and hear thy words and the discoverers of thy folly; & to conclude thy blindness, and unthankful mind; which thou confidently opposeth against the benefits of God, lest thou shouldest confess them. So far hath thy disdain wholly besotted thee; so far hath thy sinister disposition spotted thy fair estate and honourable condition: thou sayst thou wert a man and noble, both at once; thou dost please me in that at the first entrance, thou confessest thyself a man; although I know this speech, rather foll from thee unawares, then was spoken with any consideration. For in that word, thou art put in mind of thy beginning, which is common to thee with the lowest of the common sort; And although thou contemn him in respect of thyself, as one growing out of the dunghill, yet he hath the same beginnings of humanity, that thou hast; His life is to be run in the same race, and with the same course, must he finish the period of his mortality & to conclude, he flieth aloft with the same wings of eternity that thou dost. In one word thou art not more a man than he (or to say more plainly) he is as much a man as thou. But thou proceedest further, to set forth thyself, and him, that by comparing, thou mayst grow insolent; depressing him, whilst thou advancest thyself; esteeming him, as base, and of no reckoning.  
Herein, if any man should ask thee, what Nobility is, I know thou wilt answer, it is the Honour and Antiquity of Kindred; But I will tell thee something more plainly, and more sound, that thou who dost admire nothing so much as thy kindred, by which thou growest insolent, yet mayst confess, to be true: Nobility, I say is an honour due to a virtue eminent, & publicly profitable; not only in his person, that first doth it, but also in his posterity, which are not adulterate, engrafted, or degenerous: And therefore Note, is onething, and Nobility is an other. Many are of Note, of whom we are to take heed, as of monsters, but he that is truly Noble, it is a virtue, and a duty, to know him. Thou, when thou wert first borne, broughtest no virtue into the world with thee, therefore thou mightest be of Note, as one richly borne, and of a great family, but thou couldst not be Noble; but only in the suffrages, and wishes of those, who favour the name, virtue and posterity of the Ancestors, from whence thou art descended; and from thence presupposing all these to be in thee. For men are naturally apt, to hope for those virtues in thee, which are promised in thy birth. For all good men (saith Tully) favour Nobility, both, because it is profitable to the Commonwealth, that Noble men be worthy their ancestors, and because the memory of honourable men, who have deserved well of the Commonwealth (though dead) doth and aught to prevail, with us. And therefore thy Nobility; then when thou wert borne, was in hope, not in being, peradventure in the root, not yet in the branches; neither doth always, 
The Son in equal line,  
The Father's praise succeed.   
Now when thou art grown up, and strong, I demand, wherein thou dost make men know, that the honourable, and happy virtues of thy family, are not withered in thee. How shall we understand that thou who art begotten, & borne of great hope dost grow to the glory of thy ancestors, & that the fruit so much hoped for, doth grow out of thy branches? Where is thy ancient blood? Where is the Industry of thy forefathers? Where is the glory of thy house? I grant the signs, and tokens of honour, may be received either from thy Ancestors, or from the Prince: but Nobility and honour itself, is the reward of thy own virtue. That virtue, which in things acceptable to the people, doubtful, and full of profit, and hazard, at all times, and by all means, doth show itself; which in the time of peace, and security, erecteth the ensigns of piety, and justice, wherein all both public and private felicities are contained; and then doth bring forth troppes of all those virtues, which are handmaids to both. And when the Commonwealth, is disquieted with wars, either at home, or abroad, doth oppose against the enemy, Fortitude, and what virtue soever is a companion to it; for what virtues, for what praises art thou to be esteemed? speak boldly. Instead of answer, I see thy doubting: for that which is not, neither can the tongue utter, nor the mind conceive. Seeing therefore thou wilt say nothing, I will answer for thee. But canst thou here? In one word, neither virtue, nor praise, that either I, or thou, or any man else knoweth, is in thee. But go to, with what right or with what confidence, dost thou usurp this same honourable title of Nobility, which thou admirest in thyself, and for which thou thinkest thyself so excellent? It is (thou sayst) the gift of my ancestors, as are the other signs of Nobility, whereof I boast. I hear the name; I see the signs; but I desire the thing. I fear lest the ancient honour of thy forefathers, in thy person, be darkened and grown out of use. If not, as it was first gained by men, virtuous, and truly valiant, so it ought to be borne again, in thee, this Nobility, which thou boastest to be born with thee: neither can any thing be more foolish, then to be called, that which thou art not. Nothing hath more affinity with sloth, then to be willing, to be taken for another, than thou art. Nothing is more unjust, then to usurp another man's, for thine own. Nothing is more shameless, then to desire to be esteemed Noble for kindred, not for virtue. Neither is virtue transferred with the same facility, that possessions, are to the heyers. Virtue is every man's proper, and peculiar good: and whosoever hath not this, doth not only carry the Idle, but the odious name, and title of Nobility. But thou boastest of those, whose posterity thou art, and desirest men to observe thy pedigree. Well if I should do so much for thee, and by degrees go back with thee, to him whose father first gave honour to thy family, peradventure I should bring thee to a beginning, thou wouldst be ashamed of: why art thou pace? It is ancient, that Plato saith, Servants do come of Kings, and of servants do come Kings. And what marvel? For virtue herself, doth give bondslaves, oftentimes not only liberty, but Kingdoms. And virtue exposed to the injury of fortune, doth best show what every man is. And therefore if thou wilt know what thou art, who and how great thou art, defend not thyself with this glorious title, borrow not the virtues of others, but bring forth thy own; thou foolishly boastest the benefit of thy stock, if thou sufferest thy ancestors that are dead, to be better known then thyself, that art alive: Show how much true nobility there is in thee, that is, how much virtue in thy mind, how much faith in thy words, and deeds. Show from what stock thou art. By this means shall men esteem thee in hope greater, for fame better, and for inward uprightness, more commendable, that thus honours, may be given thee, not thy kindred, thy person, not thy name, thy manners, notthy ancestors. 
And though thou hast thy ancient praise in store,  
Yet not content with glory of their fame:  
Nor boast their virtues that did live before,  
Seek thou thyself, for to surpass the same.   
Kindred and our stock is like a fair Table, which either may be made more beautiful by a picture, or polluted and defaced with stains. If those things be joined to thy birth which do make thy birth great, them are the praises of thy ancestors renewed; if those things, which do blemish thy stock, than there is little greatness in thy kindred, & in those things that are annexed to it; Infamy, & reproach? These are those polluted stains, that deface the Images of our forefathers, which the more honourable, they show our ancestors to be, the greater and more intolerable; is the sloth of their sluggish and degenerous posterity.  
Now with the insolency of thy kindred, thou dost arrogantly remember thy supporters, thy Affinity, & Riches; which are good to those that use them well, but to those that use them otherwise, are evil; Nay, carefully take heed lest the abundance and harmful plenty of overmuch riches, drown thy narrow, and weak mind in many vices, and consume those seeds of virtue, that are planted in thee, for 
Minds of men much plenty overwhelm,   
If thou truly undestoodest how little or nothing, riches do help to virtue, than thou wouldst think more mildly, and more honestly of poverty, and of the poor multitude painfully, and profitably disposed into virtuous courses. For Cities do not sound with noise of work men, and artificers to no purpose. Let these seem base to dilicat minds, whilst experience telleth us, that they are only commodious, but of most known and absolute necessity. esteem not so disdainfully of those things, without which riches hath nothing, for which they are more to be desired then poverty: And to conclude, without which, no kind of life can well be. Neither the Country, the City, the Court, nor the camp. For as in the body, the thighs, legs, and feet, though they be in inferior, yet are not in worse and less needful place, than the arms, and the shoulders; so these kind of men do enjoy that room, and place in the Commonwealth, which if they for sake, it must needs fall. For whethersoever Necessity extends itself, thither reacheth art, which is nature's follower. For as great and wise statesmen govern our lives, so artificers and workmen serve our lives: whilst they furnish and adorn our lives with their necessary uses. Woe unto man's weakness if it be destitute of these helps, for none of these but liveth according to God's rule, because he can show how he liveth; which whosoever in old time could not do, it was death unto him; which custom Augustus, that famous name, amongst the Roman Emperors, precisely observed, when he obtained the Decemuirs of the Senate, that every Knight might give an account how he lived, And of those that were disallowed, some were punished, and some noted with infamy. Therefore if thy birth advance thee, their industry commended them; and as thy condition of life is higher, so theirs is much safer, and more assured; For whilst they are about good business, they avoid Idleness, and serve the Commonwealth, whatsoever is necessary to the commonwealth to apply thy wit, and thy hand, to that, though it be not glorious, yet it is honest. Furthermore in that thou reprehendest husbandry, thou dealest frowardness, and after the manner of the Thralians which provokest thy nourisher, without which thou mayst need, thou mayst hunger: Besides it is a kind of life, most sincere, and most innocent. In it, there is again, virtuous, most stable, least envious; For the Divine nature (saith Varro) gave fields, but human art built cities. Surely of husbandmen (saith Cato) are borne the strongest, and best soldiers; and men of least harmful thoughts, are they that live of husbandry. Next unto these are Merchants, which seasonably provide for men's necessities, whilst they so mingle the commodities of several Countries, that whatsoever is afforded any where, may be found every where. It is a favourable trade, and that which mingleth in traffic, all the kingdoms of the earth: But at this day, with much loss to the Commonwealth neglected. For there are a kind of vulgar and common people, who neglecting the honest course of avoiding poverty, and enriching their families, do ambitiously affect honours, which are ever sumptuous. From hence poverty creepeth into their houses, & from their houses into the Commonwealth, which wanteth wealth to uphold it. Besides, that which is gotten by Merchandise, is not so much to be termed the pray of covetousness, as the Instrument of bounty, cleanliness, honesty, and honour. Take away the spots of the mind, & with all you take away the stains of the thing; & whereas you say that Merchants weary their time with oars, & pass the troubled seas, that in my opinion, is the chief praise of such resolute Industrey, which, that it may perfect that which it hath begun, strongly contendeth with all difficulties, and ever adventureth upon new dangers, whilst it passeth into far places, in despite of all lets. Surely men travailing from their native soil, dismayed with no distance of place, afraid of no barbarism, tamed with long & often patience, ever employed, always careful of their affairs, must needs return homefull of all knowledge. From hence rich advantages are derived to the commonwealth, because all, from that which is every man's, doth justly receive a benefit. Besides, the wits & capacities of many, by this means are made more exquisite & in the managing of afaires have a riper knowledge, and more perfect wisdom, whilst every man maketh a profit of an others experience. Now judge if there be any thing in this which either thou or any man can dispraise, and not rather commend, and admire. Besides, from great Merchandise, arise often great revenues, and from great revenues derived innocently to their virtuous posterities, Nobility. And this I see to be and ever to have been the judgement and account of every honest, and wise man, as right so by public consent most approved. But whilst out of every thing, you take that which is worst, that from the faults of men (an usual fault) you may take occasion to debase whatsoever you despise, as your manner is) you also scoff the Lawyer. Neither you do consider, that every man's doubtful estate, destitute of this so profitable a defence, doth easily run headlong, and the help which a man wanteth in himself, by this means he findeth in an other. For this cause there is nothing more excellent, then to exceed in faith, wisdom, and eloquence; because there is nothing more full of humanity, and more divine then to bestow so many and so great ornaments, and the whole course of our life in defending of other men's dangers. For whosoever amidst so many and so great tempests of this life, and in this unbridled licentiousness of impiety, mildly doth help the afflicted, or bestoweth his labour in so troublesome an office; he is to all men as a fortunate and saving Star. For men are not more bound to any man for any thing, then to see part of their burden derived upon an other; and by a substitute care with an united force, their own weakness to be supported. Of what reckoning the praise of this hath been (that I may call thee to ancient and famous exampels) the Noble Romans well understood; From hence they made their entrance to fame, and besides these, Consuls and men worthy to have triumphed gained in the defence of causes before judges, no less opinion & matter of praise, then when they before had triumphed over their conquered enemies.  
For these men after things valiantly and fortunately performed, made known that the valiantest breasts are often accompanied with the happiest wits; and that the best wits have often the greatest eloquence, and that the praise that riseth from hence, is equal with the camp, and deserveth as much, as to be a valiant Leader. For the profits that arise from hence, are not less than those which proceed from the other. Therefore I beseech you what envy is it, if at this day there be not a means of more honourable advantage, both to attain riches, and greatness than this is? In that you say mercenarily, they set to sail, a thing that is excellent, you note forth the faults of men, and not diminish the dignity of their calling; take from them extortiones, remove wranglings, cut off indirect courses, abolish all base and unworthy dealing, (things severely punishable by law) the honesty of the thing remaineth from which these fees and deserved allowances do no whit detract, nor any other law doth give just imputation of baseness, which forbid the corruption of a mercenary tongue. Neither is it fit, that this kind of men, both privately and publicly so profitable, should be deprived of the just recompense, and fruit of their labour, seeing those ancient honours, due to this gowned warfare are taken from them, dignity and Office; in place whereof have succeeded these which properly and fitly are called Honourable fees; both, because they are given for honour, to honest men, and for an honest cause. Besides, this is as a seminary, from whence princes do take not only men skilful in law and justice, but those who wear fit to sit at the helm of the common wealth, and to be of counsel to kings: And seeing their office is but a part of the Prince his charge, what hath the armour & the shield, why it should despise as base, the gown, and the pen. Let these employments be accounted obscure shadows, whilst we must needs confess, that they are very great, and very profitable, and therefore very honourable. And whereas thou sayst, thou hast no base mind but high and generous; I should praise thee if this were truly spoken; if in stead of high and great, thou didst not show thyself a contemner of those things, which ought to be much esteemed. For the greatness of the mind, is not discerned by swelling words, but by the often and accustomable use of virtue; and things that are boasted of, are nothing but a disdain of the ears; and a loathing and hatred to the mind. And this appeareth in that thou sayst those things wheare-with thou swellest, were first thine, before thou wert the worlds or enjoyed this light. From hence thou gatherest, that thou wert not borne to serve them, but all these things to serve thee.  
These speeches are the rules of pride, and the arguments of thy Ignorance: as though thou were borne to some other end, than all others are; and not to worship and reverence him, whose gift it is, that thou art, and who hath commanded thee no less to procure other men's good, than thy own. Which is not done, by idle thinking, and proud expecting, what honours men do unto thee, And wherein they do worship thee but in a diligence of profitable duties, and in a virtuous▪ and willing readiness, to do good. This will prove those Honours that do come to meet thee, not rashly to be cast and thrown upon thee, as a liberty, not to be as spoils are, but to be given with good advise, as to one who placeth true honour, first in his own conscience before the judgements and opinions of men; rather in the uprightness of behaviour, then in the glory of titles. For he that is any thing or little less than his honour, is not honoured by it at all, but overladen. Therefore thou must consider circumspectly upon what confidence thou boastest thy honours; which are so, to those whom they do adorn, or thy great Ecclesiastical dignities which thou esteemest best, that are most rich, not most holy; and what holiness is required of those, who aspire unto that honour. A Priest saith the Archbishop of Ravennas (who had his Name from his golden speech) is the form of Virtue. Thou boastest also thy Dukedoms and thy Lordships, which to whomsoever they are committed, to those also is committed the common and public safety. Take from a General the arts and true properties of a general, he is not a general, but a trifler; fatally erected as a destroyer, and subverter of the common good.  
If thou understoodest the greatness of this burden, thou wouldst constantly refuse it, seeing, whosoever governeth without just furniture for such a charged, doth not govern and command, but man doth commit this charged to a vain glorious, and improvident man, exercised in nothing, strengthened with no good counsel, relying only upon his birth, not his own firm virtue, what shall become of the commonwealth? Do you not see, and must you not confess, that a sword is given to a mad man wherewith he woundeth himself and him that meets him? Nay, wherewith he slayeth the common wealth? Do you then call this praise, honour, fame, which is a stain, and infamy, a reproach? Alas, I am sorry, lest thou flatter thyself with a favourable & plausable error, & that be happiness to thee which is unhappiness in the opinion of others, whilst thou boastest of the goods of the body, and fortune, instead of the goods of the mind, & things which are of low place, thou placest a lost and which are impediments, thou settest in the forefront of honour: Man's true goodness is in the mind, which if it be furnished with profitable arts, it neither admireth these as rewards, nor refuseth them as accessions, to his rewards, as things wherein there is neither praise nor honour, because they make no man better, they make no man worse. He is very idle that admireth these things; seeing then that kindred without virtue is neither good, nor evil, and that possessions by many casualties may fail, and so the multitude of followers forsake a man, it must needs be, that honour is no greater than you that have it; the strength of it then being in the hands of others, what is it that thou carriest thyself so proudley? and as though thou hadst placed thyself and all that is thine in safety? thou aimest only at this, that laying all care aside, thou mayst cast thyself into the arms of pleasure, which will poison the good blood if there be any in thee; if any virtue, it will weaken it, if any beauty, it will stain it. O strange error! He that may have true and permanent good things, to take pleasure in things of no continuance; believe me, to live a life; idle, and full of pleasure, is not to live, but he which bestoweth his time upon virtue, all parts of his life, are beautiful and full of pleasure. This is that, which the severity of the school teacheth, & which is contained in the monuments of those, who labour to draw men from vice, and commend virtue. Dost thou account these severe admonitions, that are wholesome, and indeed nothing else but Gods own voice, which awaketh those which are drowsy, calleth back those that do err, confirmeth those that are weak, and blesseth all? To these counsels thy forefathers obeyed, whose examples in like manner, I wish thou wouldst follow, in this respect that they are familiar, domestical, and not far sought. It was not their sluggish and voluptuous life, that gained those things to thee which puff thee up. But first they were Conquerors of their own faults, and of their enemy's forces: With both these they gained triumphant Garlands: which with thee I fear me will wither, wax pale, and lose their greenness; From these if thou hast received any motions to virtue, thou art very unfortunate, if thou dost not perfect them, with all labour, and imitation. By this means thou shalt not be loaden with the honourable Images, of Ancestors, but thou shalt increase thy Country with a great Citizen, and an Honourable Author, to thy posterity. This one thing, shall be a means, to make thee like those, from whom thou art descended; so that, they shall be thought either borne again, or to live in thee, whose glory by thy virtue, thou hast renewed. From hence mayst thou be thankful to GOD, who hath placed thee in this watchtower, that thou mayst never cast thy eyes, from the Commonwhealth; but be as profitable unto it, as thy condition requireth; which by this means only thou mayst make excellent. If thou art otherwise minded, the more insolently thou boastest of that prerogative, the violently doth thy arrogancy discover itself; thou shalt perceive (but too late) thy great fault, and thy greater punishment.   

The poor man is unthankful, who upbraideth God, which hath made him poor. CHAP. 7:  
AMongst unthankful persons, I note the poor man also, whom it is strange not to see quarelous, & complaining of his estate, what (saith he) is this strength of body, this beauty, this health, if I must wrestle with poverty, which defaceth all these? I see other men's houses full of riches, but mine empty, and full of spiders; I see this man borne fortunately, but myself under some ill, and unfortunate planet; for at this day every man is esteemed, as his riches are; this man is haughty, proud, and insolent, because he possesseth much; but I am low, and base, because my estate is small; this man (because he is rich) wanteth no occasion of praise every where, and I that am poor, of reproach and disgrace: 
Poverty that great reproach doth still command:  
To do and suffer all that men impose,  
And virtues course for want of means to lose.   
Who then can deny, but that I have cause to complain, that I am evil dealt with all? For to what end should he live, who is compassed with all the discommodities of life?   

In this I teach that God hath not given less to the poor man then to the rich. CHAP. 8.  
O Man, I did think thee to be poor, but not in this manner that I now see thee, namely with a poverty much worse, and far more dangerous. to thee as to the rest of the multitude, whether thou hast riches or no, it is in others men's power; and thou dost not consider that nothing is more subject to robber, thieves, fire, and other innumerable casualties than they are; Oh, how rich wert thou, and consequently how happy, if thou knowest how these things are to be valued at their just price; then thou shouldest understand, true riches to be placed in the mind, which if it be equal to itself, not a covetous, not an admirer of another's, not an enuier of any man's estate, not an ambitious affector of any man's greatness, it may then contend in happiness, with any man's felicity. But from poverty to virtue thou sayst the way is hard, full of difficulties, and almost beset: hard I grant, but not beset, for a mind that is truly great, having virtue propounded as a reward, doth cast down whatsoever is a let unto it; & the diligent and industrious mind, doth conquer those things which to sloth seem impregnable. Nay, what if virtue be nearer in friendship to poverty, then to envious riches? Surely, the way to virtue seemeth more ready, by which poverty creepeth, then that wherein riches boast. 
Learn thou from hence, the power of sober want.  
Carius was poor, when Kings he over came.  
Fabritius poor, that scorned Pyrrhus' gold,  
From sordid plough to rule Serranus came,  
And men controlled, that late did till the mould.   
For poverty, and faith, a good mind and true valour, are often inseparable companions; but to riches, there cleaveth oftentimes, the dross of lewdness, insolency, and sloth, many have lived fortunately, by enduring poverty patiently; a weak mind (and who almost hath not a weak mind) is easily corrupted with riches. Antiquity made Plutus the God of riches, to be the son of fortune.  
To evil men, a friend, and with gain a corrupter of all things: and as a man may bring forth an infinite number of poor men, which with frugality, and sparing, as with sure, stairs, have climbed up a fit. so there be millions of rich men headlong cast down, whether riotousness, and pleasure, sweet (but pesti'ent vices) have led them. From this womb, have proceeded so many troops of sins, so many Idle slow bellies, as the Grecians call them: fat and unweildly. 
No sin from thence, nor act of lust did want,  
Since poverty did Rome forsake.   
For it often happeneth that whosoever seeketh to enter into fame, beginneth with virtue, & endeth with sin, and injuries: with virtue, whilst he is poor, with sin, through the persuasion of increasing riches. Thou sayst, rich men have a plain way to virtue: I grant it plain, but deceitful; and in it there are a thousand windings of vices, a thousand allurements of pleasures, a thousand by-paths of errors: for to rich men, that desire to sin, all ways are open, but a poor man that declineth sometimes from the way of virtue, necessity (as it were by the hand) leadeth him to the right way: for whilst he endeavoureth himself, to that which is hard, and full of difficulty, he scarce ever turned his eyes, from virtue, which is his loadestarre. Then in suffering labour, he inviteth diligence, frugalite, modesty, and going unto virtue, he only treadeth the right paths of virtue. The way peradventure is hard, but direct, and sure; for he is much more nimble in this course, than he that walketh loaden with burdens, whom many things call aside, many things do hinder, and how much he goeth on, so much he sound rejoiceth that he hath profited.  
Then he is infinitely inflamed to the rest of his journey that remains, and he is so joyful in his proceeding, that he is scarce content with a mediocrity; and to conclude, he thinketh nothing done, if he have not perfected what he hath begun, and by so much more he embraceth his own poverty, by how much he seeth, more occasions hereby offered to lay a side, and to put off his baseness, and to conquer lets, and also to obtain honour.  
Surely, if a man wash away those stains, that cleave to every man from his birth, if then he be beautiful, and like the Champion of virtue, if he then be reckoned amongst those, that be honourable, if with the guiding of virtue, he come for to govern the Commonwealth, if from the plough (as the proverb is) he be advanced to the sceptre, if he be in his own knowledge a performer of honourable attempts; then shall he perceive what it is to serve under such a captain, when he seeth so great allowance made unto those that follow him; beside oftentimes to a man in danger, there is no haven safer than poverty. 
O safe condition of the poorest life, O gift  
Of God, as yet not rightly understood.   
Therefore yet reverence thy poverty, O thou poor man, that the rich man may understand, that he hath not more safety in his riches, than thou hast in the provident dispensation of thy want, and as one, that now standeth in the entrance, and door to happiness, lay aside that malicious and unthankful mind, which doth more pollute thee by much, than thy own poverty; cast away deformed sloth, and the complaints annexed to it; frame due thanks unto God not borne in the mouth, but in the heart; know that he can divide better, than thou canst choose; Give more largely than thou canst ache; and provide far better than thou canst wish. If at any time thy thoughts licentiously do wander, persuaded by a levity, and oblivion, that is by an ungrateful mind, then bridle them with the rains of fear, and of modesty; if they be shut up and narrow, stir them up and enlarge them to receive GOD'S benefits bestowed upon thee; for GOD'S goodness oftentimes, offering itself to thy mind, with oft handling, will make thee of a quarrellous and ungrateful complainer, a secret admirer; and a diligent worshipper of that goodness, which hath made thee poor for so rich a reward.   

The rich man is no less unthankful than the poor, and of three sorts of rich men; delicate, prodigal, and sordid; and here in this Chapter of delicate rich men. CHAP. 9  
THough baseness and poverty do challenge unto themselves this liberty, that without controlment they may be quarelous, and ever barking, yet thou that art rich, what meanest thou, to thee alone, and to thy use, there is as much digged, and ploughed, as is sufficient to serve a multitude: thou buildest more largely, than any of thy neighbours, men ●…urrowe the seas, for thy profit; in one word thou dost not possess riches, but treadest them under foot; yet for all this, I do not see thee more religious, more thankful, then if thou hadst none of those, I do observe thy mind to be narrow, and uncapable of those things, wherewith thou aboundest, so that thou art not mad after one fashion; for I find three sorts of rich men, the delicate, prodigal, and sordid: I call those that delicate rich men, which are ever loathing and taking dislike; to whom the plenty of these things are wearisome, which other men much desire; they are almost dull if they be not ever awaked with some new thing, they are always doubting of so many enticements of pleasures which they may choose, which they may take, which they may use presently, which they may differre; those things which now please them, presently they mislike, thus giving themselves over to all delight●…, they know not what to do with riches▪ so scornfully doth this delicate sort of people use them. Thus plenty is a burden to them, so hath riotousness made their minds effeminate: 
Riotousness that sweetest ill, which granted to the mind,  
Weakeneth the sense, corrupteth all, and man himself doth blind▪  
Her fairest looks (en●…g much) do harmful 〈◊〉 hide,  
Whilst painted shows deceitfully into man's heart d●… 〈◊〉.   
O ye trifling rich men dissolved and without sinews, which from so many benefits of God have learned to forget him. O men worthy to suffer cold, heat, and hunger; who only seem to have a curious judgement in an evil cause; who are not gluttons, and belly-gods, to haunt brothel houses and stews, but ever being neatly decked, profess a learned riotousness; who only speak finely, and filthly; who only seem to know and profess all parts of pleasure, who suffer no home-borne-thing to be about you, for whom only are invented so many effeminate arts. and unseemly travails of this age; yet notwithstanding you must confess, that these so many commodities, have brought so many discommodities to you, that no pleasure can delight you, nothing (how great soever) can make you happy, nor any of these womanish ornaments can set you out. Can it possible be that endued with such preposterous minds, you should acknowledge the favour of God? You should esteem it? you should speak of it? But rather ye, if ye have any respect unto yourselves, leave off to be so angry with yourselves.  
Those things which are superfluous to you, because you corrupt them with evil using, those things (I say) divide amongst the poor, as too much for yourselves; lay aside this 〈◊〉 as overgreat for you; learn to be content with a little, and this little, to use well; seeing ye have abused so much, so long; never being equal & upright to yourselves, to others burdensome, and unjust. O ye much more happy, if this abundance of loathed and superfluous choice, wear taken from you; and those pleasures wherewith ye are drunk: so that there were no more left unto you, than wherewithal to maintain life. If so many benefits of God cannot tell you to a sounder judgement, yet at least have pity upon yourselves: fear and tremble, at the end of unthankful persons. Chiefly take heed least being brought unto poverty, ye learn when it is to late, to esteem those things which so proudly ye now loath, and that which is now by too much abundance a weariness, in the end by want and scarcity become your sorrow.   

Of the prodigal rich man. CHAP 10  
YE prodigal rich men, which grow insolent with foolish pleasures, and do scoff your riches, which with unseemly expenses do waste that which was gotten with other men's labour; doubtless for you is woven a web of much ill; alas how am I afraid for you, lest you make restitution to the last farthing for these evil expenses; and least in the shipwreck of a rich patrimony, you perish against the rock of extreme necessity. In what place should I reckon you, you that are so inconsiderate, such enemies to your own estates? And to conclude, such unmindful and sluggish contemners of so many benefits of God; If I call you foolish, filthy swine, gulfs and whirlpools; if roguing and riotous eaters, I speak but as it is. For there is nothing can deliver you from infamy & from those punishments which are companions to it; will you never understand, that this substance was so richly bestowed upon you, not to be an iustrument of madding & frantic desires, not a coach to draw you to all pleasures not a nourishment to your riotousness; not food to your unsatiable bellies, But that rather amidst heap of riches, should shine your modesty, shamefastness, frugality, sobriety, and your especial thankful mind to God. It is no praise to be rich, but it is a glorious thing in the midst of riches to be temperate; and from his daily allowance ever to lay some thing aside, to relieve those who have need of a helping hand and a ready and seasonable liberality. These are those grateful thanks, which he requireth of you, who is the great bestower of all benefits, and whom mortality can requite in nothing, but in a thankful mind. If in this ye are deaf, if ye are taken with a deadly sleep, if you continue thus lewdly, and riotously to waste that which is left unto you; then when you have worn out your riches, and are comen to extreme poverty, and later than was fit are awaked out of this Lethargy; you shall find none of all those things, which your folly hath already spent, your throats have already devoured, your lusts have already consumed, and your madness hath prodigally wasted. Do ye not perceive, (vnlesle you have lost all sense) what punishment there is in this sin? Do you not perceive an injury to your strength, to your valour, to your name, to your health? Doth not all the force and vigour of your mind, by degrees waste? doth not the strength of your body by little and little fail you? Doth not this manifold, and deformed evil privately pestilent, overthrow Cities and great Empires? Was not this ever the opinion of ancient severity, which made so many laws against sumptuous riot to expel this monster? Oh GOD, why at this day is not the like severity revived? seeing this furious Monster yet liveth, that it may repress it? Surely if it were, things would not have comen to this monstrous dissoluteness of riot, in this kind exceedingly ingenious, to find out every hour something, whereby every man wasting his substance, may perish after a new manner. If you have no respect, if no shame can keep you in any limits: if your own reputations will not, yet let your losses move you; especially that fatal consumption which wasteth both you and yours: for 
Riot it is riches bane, and poverty at last  
Doth there succeed where riot all doth waste:  
And if all this will not awake you, yet  fear the judgements of GOD; And lest you be found amongst those, who are most unthankful, and most impure; learn at length to spare those things to good uses, which that divine bounty, not only with gentle, but liberal hand, hath bestowed upon you.  
And these things, being thus recovered from your riotous madness, divide them to the use of those, by whose holy prayers, and devout wishes, you may be delivered from eternal puniment.   

Of the Sordid and covetous rich man. CHAP, 11.  
But O thou sordid and covetous rich man, I see thee also drowned in this puddle. I do find thee also amongst those that are unthankful. Thou, O thou that art malice itself, who with bleared eyes lookest upon every thing that is not within thy own hedges.  
Who in the midst of thy riches layest open thy poverty, whilst thou dost not esteem those things thou hast, but lookest at those things thou covetest; whilst thou gapest after other men's, & scrapest from thy neighbours; Ever being a thirst, even in a doubting and fear, with a headlong hope, and greedy devouring unsatiable expectation. thou man, of no rekconing, who art the sightest apendix of thy substance; O clay wrought up with the filth of covetousness. O Insatiable gulf; Ounsatisfied puddle; are these the thanks that thou givest to God? dost thou so esteem his bounty? For what else shall I call these mad wishes, and endless desires? this thievish robbing disposition, but a complaining and unthankful mind? This substance (asit seemeth) is not a pleasure unto thee, but a torment. Dost thou think that these were heaped upon thee to this end, to make a hook of, to pull all things to thee? that no eye, no watch, no man's care, can be a sufficient defence, but that thou spoilest this man, thou robbest that man, thou hurtest him, thou undost an other, wheresoever thou hast any thing to do, all things are wasted, consumed and deformed by thee? O God he that hath bestowed so much riches upon thee, hath bestowed them upon thee to that end, that with a bountiful mind, and liberal hand thou shouldest imitate the giver, thou shouldest enjoin thyself a sober abstinence, and willing poverty, thou shouldest worship him in the person of the poor, who when he was here, preferred poverty before riches: not that thou shouldest compass and enfold about thine own, and others; as a Dragon doth a hid treasure, which neither taketh it himself, nor suffereth others to use it.  
And amongst so many benefits of God, thou dost only be wray a ravenous, furious, and unthfankull mind. I beseech thee acknowledge that these lets are removed from thee, which hinder the attaining of things excellent; and that the occasions are taken away, into which, poverty doth often thrust men with violence: Surely, from riches to virtue, the way, if it be not straighter, yet it is more easy, then from poverty: peradventure thou wilt say, it is more deceitful: I grant, to a man that is not sufficiently circumspect: but to a man wary and diligent, this way by riches is much the shorter. Blot out of thy mind (O thou rich man) whatsoever doth defame thee, as a ravenous wild beast, in the mouths of men; and the richer thou art, by so much, live more warily: and then enjoy and spare not, what thou hast gotten; at length rest and favour thyself; torment not thyself with perpetual gaping after whatsoever may begotten; this done, then more reverently and more carefully, give thanks to him, who as (when he might not have given these things to thee) yet gave them freely, so he now may take them from thee, provoked by thy unsound and unthankful mind.   

Amongst the unthankful persons I find him who is troubled with sickness. CHAP, 21:  
THen these that I have remembered, he is no less unthankful, whom infirmity of body, and desperate sickness, hath tied unto his bed; who afflicted with continual torments, pineth and wasteth; O life (saith he) liker a death, than life; yea a continual death do I live, who am borne to continual punishment, whom griefs daily torment, what profit is it for me to be borne into this light, when this light is to me a punishment? If this my life be continually vexed with fear of death, misery, and grief: if in the end it be concluded with a death, slow and bitter, and answerable to the rest of my life; As poverty is grievous to the poor man, baseness a reproach to the ignoble, and to every man that which doth most oppress him; yet no man's condition is more intolerable than mine; from me those two fearful companions never depart, fear and sorrow; I cannot rest, I must not mutter, I may not breath, there is no calamity so great, no plague so cruel, wherein the mind with some comfort is not refreshed, but this of mine is increased with comfort, It doth grieve me if anyman go about with artificial terms to appease my grief. I seem to be derided, I am not mytigated, but made worse, for grief driveth away, whatsoever driveth not away grief.   

Him that is worn with grief, in that he is unthankful, I neither pardon him, nor speak him fair. CHAP, 13  
I should confess myself very void of humanity, if I should not pity thee, whosoever thou art, who art plunged into this bottom of grief; I am not ignorant that their is scarce any strength of mind, to be found, which grief doth not wear and cast down, to triumph over grief, is not the parts of a man, but of some divine power; it is a cruel tyrant, and seildome leaveth a man before it have brought the body low, and afflicted the mind, for the affinity with it; but if thou dost remember thyself, that thou wert a man before thou wert miserable, before thou wert loaden with that misery and those diseases, consider a little, remember with me thy condition: Thou art a man▪ Therefore thou art not only a body, but a soul, The soul ought to have rule over the body, not the body over the soul, why art thou no●… therefore erected and listed up, O thou soul, that thou mayst behold that place which belongs unto thee: & preserve that dignity and worthiness, which is thine safe and untouched? what, wilt thou suffer the body to have greater pre-eminence than thyself? shall those foolish, & irreligious voices of this earthly frame, detracting from thy commandments, following which way soever sense leads them, and shall not thy commandment be heard? Go to, say unto thy body it is my duty to rule, and then to obey, is it not my part to affect the body, and to impose upon it whatsoever I please? say, I will lead thee, and thou shalt follow me, and as I feel, and am affected, so speak thou, I am, and have a being without thee; but thou (unless thou art quickened by me) art but a lump of flesh, mere clay, or if any thing can be more filthy than clay, thy dignity is nothing but as I have advanced thee to a divine knowledge; and as all things with me are excellent and admirable, so with thee they are contemptible and base; & to say truth what hast thou in thyself; that is not common with the brute beasts? would not thy weight depress thee into the deepest bottoms, if I did not lift thee up and engrafted thee to a divinity?  
Therefore (O body) whatsoever it is that offendeth thee, I reckon it as those things that are under me, which neither add nor detract from me▪  
These griefs to thee peradventure are bitter, & to me also (I do not say unprofitable) but for the a●…▪ f●…ty that I have with thee, unsweet and unpleasant. But that they should have power over me, that they should compel me to despair; that they should rob me of my felicity; that they should couns●…▪ and I ●…e persuaded; that they should command▪ & I obey▪ that they should compel▪ and I be enforced; this were to make me (whose essence is more divine) sub●…ct to corrupt●… 〈◊〉 all▪ these things which com●…se 〈◊〉 〈◊〉▪ which have their affinity with thee, and where of th●… a●… made, are true assurances and direct paths to mortality. But I am immortal. I am without the danger & reach of these darts; and therefore with mortal things I can neither be touched nor aff●…ed; ●…ay with these shadows of fear▪ and aff●…le me O griefs at your pleasure; be mad and fear as you think good, m●… (that is the inward and better part of a man) ye cannot ●…rt: I will keep my 〈◊〉, no●… only unconquered, but untouched; 〈◊〉 nothing from hence, whereof to glory▪ I will 〈◊〉 ye with my strength, and are solute h●…t, 〈◊〉 i●… bearing, I will overcome you; I that 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 not to ●…e wounded, that am 〈◊〉▪ that am not to 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 with these 〈◊〉. N●…y I am th●… most fr●…de, most at mine own command, then do I most triumph, when I see thee (O body) affected with grief; as if a strong tower and hold of dangerous affections wear beseedg●… and taken by me; Thus will a wise and a valiant man think; Thus will he compass himself, thus firmly and resolutely will he stand; and the more he understandeth his misery, and feeleth his grief, the more wisely will he deal, the more valiantly will he suffer that, which he must needs suffer▪ 〈◊〉 more generously will he speak, the more gloriously will he triumph; to conclude, he will persuade himself, that those remedies, which bring grief, are best and most ●…fectuall; and then as griefs hinder the o●…ces of the ●…ody, so they stir up the strength of the mind, and cure the incurable diseases of it; that is, they cut off these luxurious hopes▪ they bridle those wandering thoughts, they repress that admiration of ourselves, which deceitfully stealeth into our familiarity. For we must confess, no man hath more modesty, more appetite, more honesty, then when he is wrapped up in diseases▪ then doth he truly know of what value all human things are. Then doth he learn to detest the hurtful plagues of all mankind, Ambition, and Covetousness; then the tempests, those violent tempests of lust are cal●…; then all try●…es, pleasures, cares, are of no reckoning; he is conversant so amongst men, that he seemeth rather to be with GOD; then he is altogether out of himself, that he neither thinketh nor speaketh of these inferior and human things, but as is needful for ●…ne ready to depart, and to advise his own. These things do sicknesses, diseases and griefs perform; in this respect (I had almost said they are to be embraced of us,) that they give every man occasion, to take experiment of himself, and with a faithful though hard exercise to obtain a strength not only to suffer, but to challenge, the uttermost and ex●…emities of all evil; And therefore we are often indebted to diseases, for Innocency; Innocency that is the pathway to salvation. But these are (say you) sharp and cruel stripes: Let them be cruel, and sharp, so they be wholesome. For what if thou peradventure be such a one as cannot be cured, but by this means; Dost thou think it fit that GOD should lead thee, warn thee, correct thee, at thy appointment and direction? To some men their own conscience is a sufficient motive to virtue, some other stand in need of one to admonish them, one to correct them, some others are dull and drowsy, and ever doing that they should not, whom thou canst not move and awake, but with spurs dull and uncapable wits are not to be taught, but with stripes; and what if thou art one of those? What if almost lost thou can no otherwise be saved but by this means? Dost thou take it grievously, and repiningly, murmurest, that God doth burn thee, doth cut thee, and and lance thee, that he may cure thee? that unwilling and striving against him, he saveth thee by that means which he knoweth fittest? for 
Wounds that enter deep, with danger to the life,  
Are seldom cured with case, but fire, and knife.  Take heed therefore lest whilst thou favourest thyself too much, and with wicked complaints provokest him, who careful provideth for thy good, thou also beesound amongst the unthankful, and so (as the reward of thy unthankfulness) these bodily griefs be not diminished, but increased with addition of those everliving (and yet deadly) griefs of the soul.   

He also that is in perfect health is many ways unthankful. CHAP. 9  
ALthough he, from whom the impatiency of uncurable griefs extorteth dishonest and unwise complaints be unthankful, yet he sinneth more with excuse, than he that is sound and strong. For he, because he is never almost admonished with diseases, nor with griefs awaked out of sleep, groweth drowsy for want of pain; deceiveth himself with overmuch cherishing, and is altogether in the leaven of pride. By this means he more and more pleaseth himself; by this means he madly thinketh, and foolishly hopeth, and in his whole life doth altogether otherwise then he ought. In one word he tryfleth. From hence his life is either but a sluggish idleness or a wicked and filthy business, with both these, thy life is stained, (Oh thou man distracted, whosoever thou art, whom health of body hath brought to a sickness of mind) who therefore art in health, that thou mayst perish; and therefore perishest, because knowing and willingly thou perishest. Wherefore dost thou think this found and healthful state of body was granted thee? What? that thou mightst employ this inestimable benefit of GOD, to no good use, that thou mightest spend thy life in the windings of error, amongst the thorns of desire; that never quiet never favourable to thyself, thou mayst ever seek the means and instruments of life, only to be tossed in these follies? thus being wrapped in those foolish affections, wilt thou never free and deliver thyself? But ever wallow in that mire, without once looking to Heaven? Dost thou live, that (as the proverb is) thou mayst with the cords of idleness, draw the day from morning to night, and as the dead sea (never moved) with any desire of honesty, and with no good employments, do no memorable thing, distinguished from those that are most stuggish, so thou mayst be he 
Whose life is dead (living) and yet alive,  
Who spends in sleep the circuit of the year.  
And waking doth dreams to himself derive  
And wastes a life securely without fear.  That thus groveling to the earth, obeying thy belly, and serving thy pleasure, thou mayst quench the heat of thy lust, and unclean puddles of sin; thou dost ill esteem the benefits of GOD, if thou dost abuse so foully so great a favour.  
Surely, that any man's life is sweet unto him, it is the benefit of health; but the sum and scope of our life, is to come to the knowledge of ourselves, and from hence to the knowledge of him, whose work we are; therefore there can be no part of our life well spent, that is not bestowed in perfecting of this knowledge; This aught to be every man's purpose and endeavour, without the direction of this star, to live, is but to err, and go astray; From hence therefore, we may esteem holiness and piety to be the chief and only work of our life; this I require as trusting to prevail of our inward senses, of our mouth, of our manners; that is, of our whole man: the holiness of our inward senses, is to know God; of our mouth to praise him; of our manners to bridle vice and to increase virtue; and to endeavour that thou mayst be, if not a great and honourable, yet a good and virtuous example.  
He that hath time in his power, spareth the very moments of it; because he knoweth that nothing is turned about with such swiftness as is every part of life; and therefore he must remember the counsel given to the husbandmen. 
Watch O ye men, for time with silent sound,  
And steps unseen the year still turneth round.   
And indeed what is it to live, but perpetually to watch? What is it to watch, but to intend our calling? Again, what is liker to death then to be sluggish and cast into this pestilent sleep? I mean into this variety; and vanity of unprofitable things. To conclude, to show how dull we are, and how greatly towards GOD unthankful, who will have his benefits contained in our life, and that life bestowed to his worship, and the public profit; alas how many do we see, who, because they cannot give a reason of this their idleness, too late do lament that they have passed not a life, but rather a frustration, & a dream. To conclude to these 
From pleasures great much bitterness doth springe,  
Which vexeth oft, when flowers are in the prime:  
When self remorse, doth grief and sorrow bring,  
With Idle steps to tread our happy time.    

Kings and princes are unthankful who reckon up what estimation men make of their calling, to take occasion from hence to show how false it is, and how unjustly they may complain as being evil dealt withal. CHAP, 15:  
IT is strange, to find so many sorts of men, as I have reckoned before, to be unthankful, but much more, will he be astonished, which considers thee (chief of mortal men) upon whose persons is more heaped, then upon whole countries, to be of that mind, and to be so affected, that none are more quarelous and complaining than they are. This speech if it be not oft in the months of princes, yet it is often a thought in their minds; They say, that I (whatsoever I am called) sit in the highest government of things; my least signification any way is as a rule, whereunto every man composeth himself, that there is a necessity from my pleasure imposed upon all those, who live under my government: because it is in my power to will and to be able. If any thing please me, it is a law: my words with no contrary sense are to be frustrate, nor with any consent of men to be confuted. It is in my power, in what condition every man shall live. If I like peace, my country shall live in quiet. If I prefer war before peace, all places sound with the noise of armours; what I will do, or what I will not do; it is only in my own determination: thus are all things guided with my hand: and that which is the happiest thing in all this, is, that nothing can compel me. Those whom I admit in counsel, as persuaders or diswaders of things; they first search out my meaning, before they express their own, lest they should think any thing from which I do dissent. This emulation possesseth all the favourits of princes, and that live in Courts, who may find me at leisure, and who may most, and longest please me, to perform obedience to me, to be admitted into my inward friendship; to execute my commandments, to be almost no other thing then to be accepted into familiarity with this high and great power, which way soever I go, I have ever the attendance of Majesty, and state; & fame itself (even at whose only mention the greatest gape) which they prefer before all things, cleaveth unto me, even against my will, & that both great & everlasting, doubtless I am much in the mouths of those that are present, absent, and a far off; so that I cannot easily tell, whether absent, or present, I am more honourable. My authority, and my power is every where feared. It concerneth men publicly to know my kindred, my wisdom, and my actions.  
To conclude, it is their labour, and advantage, to set down the most hidden and secret parts of my life: yea (if it were possible) my inward thoughts; what & of what kind soever any thing is, that belongs unto me, that afterages (out of Chronicles) may read them, and fame report them. The hands of many men, their industry, their labour, their faith, and endeavours, travel only for my use, to procure my quiet, my security, my riches, my honour, my contentment: & finally, to commend my name, and memory to posterity, yea even those pleasures are obvious, prepared, and offered unto me, which often the most dangerous wits, have pursued with the loss of their lives, fames, & fortunes In this the greatest difficulty is, the choice of these things; my wishes are not only ever performed but usually prevented; In one word I do so much exceed all others, as much as any man can desire; these are public in the eyes of men, and such things as no man can contradict; these men are the lookers at my Crown and dignity.   

Hear the Prince goeth about to extenuat the opinion which the common people have of his sovereignty; for he proveth that he is compassed with miseries, that men may see in comparison of others, how little he is bound to God. CHAP, 13  
BBut Oh men overmuch deceived, in whose opinions I am (if not every way happy) yet of far more excellent estate then others: For 
With false names great things do please,   
This outward brightness is a guide to this great error; this affecteth and dazzleth the eyes of the false esteemers, of my condition: and of those, who are altogether ignorant, what this is, which they call Sovereignty; wilt thou know what principality is: It is a Tower seated in a place narrow, slippery, headlong; In this standing am I set; that I may perpetually watch; from hence (if I chance to sleep) I shall fall dangerously. No man lieth more open to assaults; no man more violently is cast down; none hath less advantage to rise again. They say my least signification is a law to men. Oh I would to God, I did not find it daily otherwise, who am drawn thither, and against my will, whether occasions of others lead me, not whether I myself had purposed. My pleasure you say is a necessity to others: nay, that necessity is imposen upon me, which arriseth out of things themselves: neither can I will any thing otherwise, then of necessity must be, unless I will that, which I cannot obtain. For as we command men, so things command us, and no man hath things in his power, but he that obeyeth the necessity of them. They say, whatsoever pleaseth me is a Law; these are trifles. For it is much truer that the law often overturneth what I like. For the law to me is hard and inexorable: and as it restraineth the multitude, so to my words and deeds it is a most severe censor. My words (they say) with no contrariety nor no consent of men can be deluded. There is nothing so false as this, seeing I am compelled, often to speak one thing, and think another. It is often my greatest advantage, that I am not understood. Surely, whosoever with a reaching head understandeth me, sometimes doth understand a little more than is fit. Therefore to my words (but when they are solemn and conceived with deliberation) men must not ever give credit. And although often I do speak truly, yet those that do catch my words, either with a perverseness of their own, or an engrafted sinister disposition, turn them to what they please: they say it is in my power, in what state and condition every man shall live. If I should grant that this were so, yet I must confess that even in this respect, I scarce ever have true quiet.  
For I am ever doubtful, and in suspense, lest I offend any man unwillingly, lest I discountenance him that is worthy, advance him that is unthankful, or unawares overthrow myself, and my own state: For even this very sovereignty itself, exposeth me (both publicly and privately) to the envies, hatreds, and jealousies of men: all which easily overthrow this state.  
And to conclude, the longer they lurk, the more fatally and more dangerously they break out. Besides you say (as I please) I do give to my subjects peace, and war. Yea even this, is amongst the ills of princes, that great destructions, and public calamities, are referred unto them only, as to the chief authors: when indeed the true causes of them are hid secretly, in the deep, and stick fast in more hidden roots, than the counsels of men. This is that unjust ignorance of the common people, from whence so much envy is derived to the prince. Of things well done, every man draws the honour to himself, but the prince alone, must bear the burden of others madness. They say, I have that pre-eminence, that whatsoever I will, or will not, is in my own power. It were indeed an excellent thing, if it were. If thus a man might satisfy all; if all men were of one mind. But whosoever thinketh thus, doth not consider, that I only never sail in a calm, but am perpetually tossed in the waves of opinion; and lie only open to the differing censures of good and ill, and to every light ignorant and idle fable. Therefore in this respect, that so much is lawful unto me, I have reason greatly for to fear, lest I should do any thing to overthrow this liberty. If any man consider well, he shall see, that in this great liberty there is least. Neither do men take unto themselves more hard judgement, or secret speeches then against the pince; Of whom to speak evil, and to dislike his doings (whether they be good or bad) it is not a corruption of a few, but of long time, a popular virtue, you say, those whom I do admit into Counsel, they do first gather out my meaning, before they express their own, lest they should think something differing from me.  
Let it be so, may not my cruelty and that fear, which men have of me, be gathered from hence, as also their own sluggish and injurious distrust of me. For if they be admitted, to this end to guide me with their counsel; why do they dissemble it? If they think well, profitably, and for the good of the common wealth; why do they first gather what is my meaning? Why do they so carefully and warily deliver their own opinion to try mine? why do they so slavishly submit their voices unto me? doubt less, they do it to that end that they may seem to think the same that I do; that thus by the likeness of council, they may make themselves easily more near unto me. Do they not thus withdraw their faith and fidelity from me? Am I not by this means forsaken of those I ought not, in things that are most weighty? Namely, those who ought to call me back when I err, to hold me up when I slide, to raise me up when I fall, craftily do cast me headlong into destruction. So far do they proceed in the contention of flattery, in the impudence of lying, and in the study of deceit. Then in what state am I, if these be true as they are most true? Do not these devouring gulfs ever gape after my fortunes? what? if I bestow so much upon them as they wickedly covet or impudently beg? If in those things which falsely and fraudulently they steal, they see our winking at it, are we not straight made a prey unto poverty, than which, no enemy can be greater to a kingdom? If I do give with moderation, and according to men's deserts, presently they account me base and niggardly. So whether I give, or not give, I must either want or be envied; but you say all men strive to insinuate themselves into my favour, to be nearer and more powerful with me, seeing to be inward with princes and to execute their commandments is nothing else but to part and divide sovereignty with them; this may teach all men, in what slippery estate were stand, and how little we are at our own pleasure, who must be subject to other men's vices, to obey other men's wits, and to be led whether they will have us. If vices would show themselves as they are, there is no man but would be afraid and tremble at them; but to Princes they offer themselves disguised, they carry a shape of virtue with them, and so easily insinuate themselves. From hence is that, which they call our facility, liberal to the worst sort & more favourable often to vices, then to virtue, when we are most officiously observed of our attendants, then audacious spirits in our gates do work tragedies; modesty being banished, for which there is scarce any parts in princes courts, there scarce it retaineth the name of virtue when it hath lost all the ornaments and graces of it; It is often covered with a base garment, and then it is not so much called modesty, and fear, sluggishness, and baseness; therefore if any man thinkerightly, we are rather troubled with other men's faults then our own, whilst we live in this ignorance of things, and looking with other men's eyes, scarce ever see any thing truly, from hence proceed so many errors, so many complaints, which on every side are stirred up to our envy; who are said to know all things, to govern all things, to be able to do all things, when indeed we know all things last of all, neither do men tell us things as they are, but as it pleaseth them to devise, so that every man's particular fault is laid upon the PRINCE, be he never so innocent, But they say, I ever walk, being guarded with a train of Majesty and State. Indeed thus I am safe, as a City, all whose gates are diligently kept, except one, which is open to the enemies; neither can the Prince (though with his authority he command every man) eschew the treacheries of all; for there will never some be wanting, which (moved with unjust hatred) conspire his overthrow; there be every where examples of this, by which we may see how the lives of Princes, are open to every man's wicked conspiracy; yea and oftentimes such furious assaults are joyfully accepted amongst the multitude, So that those are thought to have deserved best of the common wealth, who have compassed us about with such treacherous factions, and amongst the vulgar multitude, there is no news received with greater applause; nothing more acceptable to the ignorant people, than this; that the yoke of a tyrant is taken from their necks, and rewards are bestowed upon the murderers. Thus undefended, unheard, and often the innocent is punished; no law nor majesty can be a protection to him, in whose only safety the safety of all consists, besides it is not in the providence and wisdom of any, but of him that is the great defender of kingdoms, to escape those storms, which a man shall see thence to arise often, from whence in all reason they are least expected; for the nearest and most inward friends, do often become the most dangerous traitors. This is that guard which so defendeth our bodies, that it doth often wound them; which we nourish at our own expenses, not so much to defend us as overthrow us.   

The Prince proceedeth to reckon up those things which may diminish other men's opinions of this felilicitie. CHAP. 9  
ANd fame, which all mortal men expect above all things, what doth it profit me, if it doth dishonour and blemish my name? Should I therefore esteem it because it is great? Yea, the greater it is, the more dangerous; and the more it doth stain me; what am I greater that I am more famous? 
All men point and say that this is he  
what earth to few that life hath given to me  And am I by this more famous? more excellent? and not rather more stained, more vexed? whatsoever belongeth to me, that they say it is fit to be known publicly. This also is to be reckoned, amongst the infelicity of Princes; that private men's faults oftentimes humility, conscience, and charity doth hide, and the least blemishes in us, are publicly showed as great deformities; from hence it cometh, that whatsoever sin, or filthiness is any where, all that almost, is thought either to proceed from the PRINCE, or to rest upon him; neither do private men sin more sparingly, but more secretly; men easily do pardon their own faults, but never the PRINCES, nay the more equal every man is to himself, the more unjust he is to the PRINCE; and as concerning pleasures, from the plenty whereof, cometh a difficulty of choice, I would to GOD those could see the end of them, who from these do measure our felicity, with grievous (yet deserved punishments.)  
They should well understand, how light, how flitting, how fearful, they are and full of repentance; for the very abundance of these things, which you so much esteem doth take from every thing, the sweet and the pleasure of them; neither doth that ever delight us, which truth commendeth to us, but which novelty; what is exquisite, special, and not common; Every common thing be it never so excellent, groweth base; and assoon as there be many of them, they are cheap; It is scarce any pleasure at all; that is a pleasure to all; but these which in the opinion of the multitude are so much to be desired, do compass the princes young years about, before he learn to know them, hate them, or eschew them; he first tasteth evil things, before he knoweth them to be evil, he first understandeth himself to be taken, before he hath any power to take heed of these inevitable deceits; neither can he with any force he hath, repel the violence of those pleasures, that do assault him. Away with that felicity, (which if it be any) yet is not of that value, that thereby the mind should be besotted; the body weakened; and the fame darkened; and to follow pleasures, what is it but to hunt sickness, grief and shame? True pleasures, and which indeed deserve the name of pleasures, are few, and do happen to private men oftener, than to Princes; our pleasures are counterfeit, masked, and full of danger, and to conclude, they are not that they seem, and that which truly is in them (if there be any thing truly in them) is less than that which is not, or worse, or more dangerous. My wishes they say are not only performed, but sweetened. Those wishes must needs be low, and beneath the dignity of this place, which a man may so easily obtain; they aim at nothing that is great, at noning worthy of this fortune; surely as soon as it is understood, that any thing is attempted by me, whereby my riches, my dignity, my dominion is to be enlarged; all men by all means do seek to hinder it; so obstinately and of set purpose do men rise to subvert me, to keep me under, to oppress me; No man is sooner frustrate of his hope, no man hath more dangerous attempts against him, then the PRINCE; Those sluggish and base wits, borne to servitude, by how much they increase in slothful secret practices, by so much more dangerously, they assault our safeties and fortune; that I may not speak of other Princes, and great persons, which with jealousy envy our states and calling, who, by how much our fortunes are advanced, by so much they suppose their own to be cast down; because there is no enlarging of the bounds of Empire but into the limits of an other; which must be to him that invades troublesome, and full of danger; besides doubtful, and unhappy events do often cross endeavours that are excellent, and worthy of this place; that it may seem to be better to sit and rest, like sluggish beasts, then to adventure themselves, into so many headlong downefalles, which ruinated their states and their whole Kingdoms. These are those felicities, wherewith our fortunes are measured.  
From hence there springeth so much envy to us, as we nan scarce endure; as though we had gotten the uttermost happiness upon earth, So that our kind of life is scarce known to be unsafe, miserable, full of danger, of any other, then of those that are borne to be Princes. All things with us are full of suspicions, cares, and fear. O men thrice fortunate, to whom a life is granted, not tossed with the tempests of envy, subject to no storms of hatred, and conspiracy; who have a condition, and estate beneath the envy of this place, and yet above the common equality.  
These are they that live in security, who have in safety whatsoever they possess, these have tranquillity, pleasure, joy, and happiness.  
Seldom doth envy or malice, lie in wait for them. To conclude, these have all those commodities and pleasures; which falsely are said to be proper unto princes, who cannot use them, but with great danger; neither were it strange, if Princes (the greatest of mortal men) laying aside this public care, and freed from this heavy burden, did betake themselves into this safe and quiet harbour.  
Next unto these, are the multitude, who are safe (if not in the greatness of their riches) yet in their condition and multitude of their like.  
Last of all (if in no other respect) yet for their contempt, which to the lowest is as a strong wall. 
When heavy news the people doth oppress,  
The prince's greatness is in danger much,  
Where lower states are safe, and fear no such.    

Here I show by how many benefits the prince is bound to God, and in all these, that he showeth himself unthankful. CHAP, 13  
WEll I see what the matter is; he that is almost over loaden and oppressed with the benefits of God, doth scarce perceive them; he that hath more lent him, doth more impudently deny the debt.  
He that ought to be altogether in giving of thanks, is ashamed to be seen thankful: he whose condition is above all, placeth himself lower than all; not in want of understanding; but in that (though his place be excellent) yet he dare boldly upbraid the bestower of it, with what terms shall I censure this corrupt and sinister disposion: Shall I call him blind, that cannot see those things, whose brightness shine in every man's eyes? Or rather mad, which proudly treadeth under foot, which all men admire, that they are bestowed upon him? or dull and earth lie, which perceiveth not those things, in the midst whereof he is placed? or to say more truly wicked, which with a strange confidence acknowledgeth none of those things that appertain to his calling? Well I will deliver myself, and thee whosoever thou art that readest this, out of this doubt I will call him unthankful; and in this one word contain all his shame. And first in the very entrance thou bewrayest thy frivoulous boasting, who sayst that they know nothing which esteem thy condition better than the condition of other men; As though thou only in respect of all other men (who thinkest thus) thought truly, and other men were deceived, who see thee in the midst of the Son to complain of light. But indeed it is much truer, that thou only hast weak eyes, which together with thy mind are both blinded, with that light that doth shine about thee; This first dazzleth thee, than others; whose minds are infected with thelike error. Thou sayst that principality and sovereignty are like a Tower seated in a strait, and slippery place, where a man must perpetually watch: this hitherto is well spoken, If thou speakest it with that mind that it ought; but I see thou showest not the excellency of that place, but the danger. Thou dost not acknowledge, that thou art seated in a glorious, and high place, but complainest that it is slippery, & full of downefalles; Neither dost thou speak as one wary, but as one quarrellous, and complaining; not as one remembering, and magnifying thy condition, but detracting from it. Art thou in that mind that thou thinkest it is lawful for any man to be Idle, and secure? Suppose thyself not to be in that place, set thyself with the common people, make not thyself singular, yet thou canst not deny, but thou art committed to thy own charge; if no other, yet this charity (I am sure) is engrafted in thee; For to this end thou art borne, that thou shouldest never leave thyself, but toward thyself keep a continual guard, go whether thou wilt, be as dissolute and as negligent as thou canst; yet thou mayst not fly nor escape thyself; from thyself without any teacher, thou art warned, that thou must nourish, frame, and till thyself; Surely no hard province, no laborious work, whereunto willingly thou comest and by the light of nature; But as it is easy to be carried to this, so it is as hard and difficult to perform it: For all other things are to be left, or rather all other things are to be done, that this one thing may be perfected.  
There is no mortal man, that hath not this person, this charge, put upon him: and therefore what care, or labour soever is bestowed in this, it is not Labour, but Nature. And if thou bestow this care and pains upon others, it is Government, that is a duty to rule others. But whether it be a duty, or a burden, upon whomsoever it is imposed, with all it is commanded him to bear it valiantly; and firmly to obey him, whose only benefit it is, that every man is. Therefore rightly thou mayst call Government or rule, a care of an other man's welfare: seeing the great weight of it, can neither be balanced, nor stand without a governor. Therefore whosoever is advanced to this dignity, to him is the public profit propounded and he is given (as it were from heaven) as a remedy and safeguard for all. This if thou more carefully considerest, what and how great it is, then shalt thou understand the excellency and majesty of this place: wherein whosoever stands, he so far exceedeth all other men, as far as every man exceedeth all those things which admire man as their Lord, their governor, and their ruler. Therefore it is true that thou (who art a Prince) sustainest the person of God: and performest his office, in Authority, example, government. And dost thou think that any thing can be spoken, or wished for, higher and more honourable than this? But if this dignity do not erect thee, but overwhelm thee, take heed that thou accuse not the bounty of God, but secretly acknowledge the narrowness of thine own breast, and the weakness of thy mind, unfit for so great an honour, and uncapable of such a Majesty. But because sovereignty (as thou callest it) is a Tower, know that therein thou art a continual watch man, a searcher out of men's manners, a continual observer of all that is done, lest a passage be made through sins and faults, and other pestilent infections, to overthrow those things which are committed to thy faith, and credit. If thou excludest these things, if thou layest justice as a foundation of concord: If this concord of thy subjects thou increasest with faith; If thou sharpenest the love of the Commonwealth with virtue; If all thy subjects perceive thee to be a Prince, not by Impositions, but benefits; If with these benefits thou preuentest their desires; to conclude, if thy goodness be equal to thy power; if the higher thou art, thou art so much the better; thou shalt assure men that Majesty is well bestowed upon thy person: thou shalt possess their hearts, and every man's vows and wishes shall be, that God the great King, and governor of all things, will be as gracious to thee, as thou art to those that live under thee. Last of all, this Majesty shall supply unto thee, those sweet pleasures which are laid aside, for those only whom God advanceth to so high an honour. Further, he that careth for the good of the Commonwealth, the whole Commonwealth watcheth for his good, and the guard, that he is attended with all, are not so much a defence as an ornament: he that establisheth this concord of all, this concord is to him an invincible defence, he that embraceth all with a true love, him all men embrace with a true and happy love. This therefore is to be a Prince, in the most highest place; that is, for the safety, of all to bestow his care, his labour, his study, to be the precedent of laws: to plant a love of that which is just and honest, and to engraft a hatred of vice, diligently to care that none perish, no not those that are willing, he that thus disposeth himself, shall have the helps of virtue, whereunto if he lean, he shall not fall, as from a slippery and dangerous Tower, but shall remain firm in that state of Majesty: there his busied care in the business of all shall keep him safe.  
And if at any time (as human things are uncertain) sleep stealing upon him, he chance to fall, he is carefully supported in their hands, which with their good will, defence, and safety, are desirous to preserve his life; Neither shall his fall bruise him, but admonish him: For the sword of enemies shall have their edges rebated in the love of his people; in this shall deceits be disclosed, and treacheries be discovered. For there is scarce any other Prince oppressed with faction, but he that first oppresseth the people with so many injuries: Neither is it strange that he lieth open to the injuries of all, that he is torn in pieces with their opinions, wishes, and reproaches, who laboureth himself, to procure the destruction of all.  
Therefore how safe thou art; how dear and desired thou art, how great & honourable, how quietly obedient thou hast thy subjects, it is in thy power, whosoever thou art that art a Prince. And as thy safety, so are thy dangers ascribed unto thyself; if thou indeavourest still that thou mayst stand, thou shalt never need to labour that thou mayst rise. If thou livest for the good of all, all will bestow their lives for thy good.   

I do here admonish the Prince that intending those things which appertain his calling, he show himself thankful and mindful of God's benefits. CHAP. 18  
Doubtless it is truly said, that thou art the Lord of times, and moments of time, and that thou so commandest necessity, that thou art not drawn with the violence of it; if principally, thou takest heed, that thou dost not with thy own inconsideratures invite it. If thou admittest into council, these two companions Wisdom, & Providence: For with the direction of these two, thou shalt easily escape those almost inevitable snares of this Monster necessity; yea & occasions will be ready; occasions, good and lawful, safely and profitably to meet thee. For seldom, are any other driven into the straits of time; then the slothful, inconsiderate, and improvident. But if thy mind be hedged about with a daily and diligent care, that it slide not, I dare promise thee, no unfortunate thing, shall happen unto thee; nothing unlooked for. But all things happily, and forward before hand. If banishing this rashness thou look unto things that are to come, with the eyes of wisdom, then as thou shalt wisely bear, whatsoever happeneth, so thou shalt easily annoyed error. And if all things come not to pass which thou wouldst; yet those things shall happen which thou hast before thought of: And if things succeed not as thou hast determined, yet thou shalt quietly entertain those things whereunto occasions shall lead thee. There shall scarce any thing be, which shall impose a necessity upon thee; Nay, it shallbe in thy own power, what shallbe of necessity, and what not. For so imperious are circumspection; and watchfulness, that wheresoever they are, from thence they exclude all necessity. So far do diligent men exceed the slothful, the inconsiderate, the desolute, which that great Poet well understood, when elegantly he sung thus:  

japetus Sons the authors of our being,  
With unlike hand, a race of men did frame,  
Prometheus' Sons the power had of foreseeing  
When th'other race more dull, saw not the same  
Air in the one a spirit divine infused,  
When heavy Earth the other down did cast:  
One things to come, the one in wisdom mused  
Whilst these did sigh for things were fond passed   
Surely thus the Prince may do every thing, if whatso ever he thinketh, he applieth to this rule; Thus whatsoever pleaseth the Prince shall be a law; neither is a law any thing else but the rule of right. Command the best things, and whatsoever at any time or in any place thou commandest, shall obtain force and strength of a law. If there be not to subvert these at any time a difference betwixt the PRINCE and the law. For the PRINCE must be a help to the law, and the law a safeguard to the PRINCE. Thus shall there be much worthiness in thy deeds, much reverence and authority in thy words; neither shalt thou at any time be compelled to use dissembling or deceit; the weak and unfaithful supporters of a kingdom; which indeed are rather the forerunners of craft, than the companions and witnesses of true wisdom. Ever go the right way, fly all bypathes, let no false opinions touch either thee, or thy subjects. Let no suspicions stain the chaste mind of either. Let both live truly, and sincerely, speak ingeniously and fear not to be understood; and whatsoever is sincerely spoken, let it be accepted and construed with a sincere and virtuous ●…ction. For truth the PRINCE 
Hath taught to shun deceit,  
Nor false to speak nor secretly to hate,  
Nor kind in shows, to harm to lie in wait,  
With open truth to guide and rule his state.  Thus obedidence, shall ever confirm what is uttered from a mouth so ingenious and void of deceit. Thus shall the success ever be answerable to all that thou intendest; in the choice of any whom thou advauncest to any place. For if laying aside favour and affectation, laying aside all base & sinister respects, thou only aymest to prefer and honour those that are most worthy, thou shalt derive unto thyself no hatreds, neither public nor private, but love ingenious, and sincere, and the religious vows and wishes of all men for thy safety. For all men will understand how nearly it concerns them to obtain of God by their prayers a long and a happy life, for so good and gracious a Prince. For by this means every man prayeth, that himself may live well. For the state and condition of every man, is happy under a good and a gracious Prince. But you say the public calamities (whose causes are hid in secret) are referred to the Prince, as to the chief author; as though it could be denied, that war and peace were not in the hands of the Prince; shall I tell thee how truly this is spoken? Entreat thus much of thyself, that thou mayst be able to quench those sparks of desiring and coveting Ambition, which ever seek to enlarge themselves, and do inwardly burn thee, that they grow not to a flame; and then shalt thou cut off all causes of war. Look not how narrowly, or how largely thou rulest, but how justly; then thou shalt perceive thyself placed in a large field, were thou mayest muster an army of virtues, which do all fight under these two ensigns Piety and justice. From whence I beseech thee (dost thou think) arise the greatest part of the public calamities? Doubtless, seldom from foreign injuries, but most often and usually from the unquiet mind of those, who think they possess nothing, unless they invade that which is an others. Doubtless, I think him to be the most mighty Prince, whose mind and wishes are at unity with themselves. O thou Prince, (whosoever thou art) quiet and calm thine own heart; erect thyself higher and above all those things which inflame the mind; hold the desires under a bridle; so shalt thou prevent wars, seditions, tumults; if any thing turbulently fall out, thou shalt not buy thy peace of strangers, with great sums of money, or with diminishing or dishovouring of thy Empire; but thou shalt make the Articles and Covenants of peace thyself; If any man shall propound thee, and thy kingdom as a pray: if any foolishly cruel, and placing right in violence, cometh to oppress thee, doubtless all men will arise in arms to defend thee; because whilst they establish the authority in thee, they do likewise fortify their own. Last of all, he will defend thee himself, who as he is justice itself, so he ever firmly standeth and fighteth for that virtue. Thus, whatsoeverthou wilt, shall be lawful for thee; that is, if thou ever embrace, that which is just and honest; andremoove from thee, whatsoever is unlawful.  
Thus, no man's wishes shall differ from thine, no man's wishes shall hurt thee; no tales shall trouble thee; nothing so popularly shall come to the ears of the common people, as thy praises; neither shall any man compare thy faults (which are none) with thy good deeds as doubtful, which in the balance do weigh the heaviest; thy virtues shallbe hurt with no affinity with vice; the multitude of thy virtues and the greatness of them shall take judgement from men, and place instead thereof Admiration. This shall engraft thy name to posterity; but thou complainest, that those who are intimate & of counsel with thee do not deal faithfully, and sincerely, when as first they gather out the meaning, before they express their own. This (thou sayst) is an argument of a mind corrupt, and unfaithful. Indeed I do think so with thee: there can be nothing more wicked, more corrupt than these. But me thinks thou seemest not to know that the greatest part of this unfaithfulness altogether proceedeth from thyself; consider what these are to whom thou hast committed thyself, thy name; thy dignity; and in one word the Sovereignty of state. They are either chosen of thee to that place, and esteemed for their virtue, and worth; or rashly admitted into council. What ornaments have they brought to thy friendship? with what piety? with what manners, with what gifts of the mind are they advanced? Or rather have they not possessed that place with boldness? Are they not servants unprofitable, servants of their own and thy unlawful desires? Are they not stains to thy friendship? Blemishes of thy Empire rather than instruments and servants of a good government? If thou acknowledgest any of these, thou must first accuse thyself before thou accuse them; neither ca●…st thou marvel that this sort of men should show any other thing than those they are furnished with. To conclude, it is no argument of a Great PRINCE to have such friends, and surely what Mortal Man can expect either truth or sincerity from those, who neversomuch as heard of virtue, being the bondslaves of vice; who with boldness have rushed into the council of PRINCES, who scarce where ever known unto him, but by dangerous fawn; which only compass him about, that they may rob him; thus they begin.  
First they blind the PRINCE with flattery; they not only power oil into his ears (as the proverb is) but with their filthy mouths dangerous and deadly poison, thus they proceed to deceive him; first by soothing, then by scraping: if any adversirie be at hand, these stand never sure to the Prince; nor to the better cause, but to the stronger, & the greater faction. They incline especially thither, whether gain, levity, & falsehood lead them; they rest not in their watchtowers, to yield themselves to their chief and lawful Prince, but to him that shall conquer. These never seek what is honest, but what is safe and profitable. But if thou desirest, never to be deceived, never to have the faith of subjects, to shrink from thee: If thou wilt be strong in Counsel; to conclude, if thou wilt have firm rule of government; diligently inquire into the lives, the conditions, the fame of those, whom thou admittest either into Counsel to thyself, or to the government of the Common wealth, choose, & carefully choose not the most popular & most in favour; but the best. These will counsel thee & persuade good; but those will suggest ill. Thus shall the state of things be very good, whilst thou thus governest; thou shalt engraft into thy country the true notes of happiness. For when men shall understand, how hard it is to counsel such a Prince, wholesome and profitable things: very few will think it belongs unto them, to be admitted to this honour, to be of thy secret counsel; when men shall observe that men only conspicuous, in wisdom and honesty are admitted of the Prince and to the Prince, they will not floc●…e unto thee in such swarms. There is no man can so far forget himself, but that in his own mind, he will think thus; who am I that should go about to be of counsel with the Prince? What virtues am I furnished withal answerable to so high a place? Have I given any testimony of my life, of so profitable and honourable a pains; that I should deserve that place, that I should be called into counsel with him, who hath the principal & chief government of things? How often shall there be consultations of doubtful and uncertain things: when in Courts, fears and terrors are thick dangers barking on every side, then what is there in all my store of wisdom, learning, and experience, wherewith I may ease either the Prince, or the Commonwealth. The more learned that every man is, the more experienced, the wiser; the more earnest he is in such a cause, in such a place at such a time. What part shall I play here of a wise man, or of a fool? Or shall I not lay open my own ignorance and folly, shall not this honour bestowed upon me, be like a wonder▪ these and such like true thoughts will drive a man into a conscience of himself: therefore to aspire to such a place, to such an honour, men must have fear, respect, modesty, things not ever seen in the affectation of these places. Every man first must fear himself, his own judgement, than the judgement of his most grave, & most wise prince: then the judgement of all. Therefore there is no cause, why a Prince should fear men of ill disposition, when his Court is not open to any such monsters, when honours are not stayed either by selling them, or casting them upon unworthy persons: but rather to mark and observe, men excellent in virtue, although private and obscure, and to compel such (how unwilling soever) to take the charge of government of things, & to be of his own Counsel.  
Surely such a Prince, shall never be in danger of evil Counsels, and untruths; for such will ever speak to him as it is. Thus excluding the dregs, he shall make choice of the most sincere, and with a sharp eye, he shall wound masked and counterfeit vices. For they shall not dare to mingle themselves with virtues; which he shall ever have true; eminent and conspicuous about him, with the help of these, he shall sustain the heavy troublesome weight of government. Thus from the Court shallbe banished continual boldness, and Impudency. Now thou sayst (O Prince) that it is in thy own power; that there be no bottomless gulfs in thy kingdom, which to fill up, thou shalt be brought to a dangerous poverty. Be bountiful, but not a waster: set unto thyself Limits for thy liberty: nor relieve not others, with thy bounty, but such, as with true praises, may celebrate thy virtue. These will not secretly break thy treasury, but silently deserve thy liberality. Then such a Court shall vomit out no plague to infect the air; from whence are heaped together pestilent clouds that do threaten storms and tempests. But there shall be a perpetual and everlasting Seminary of most firm and sound tranquillity. From hence shall every man take example of life; there thou that art the Prince shall shine as the sun amongst the other stars; the nobility shall look into thy wisdom as into a bright and true glass; thy wisdom shall be stronger than the craft of any; so far shalt thou be from having the sins and the vices of others imputed to thee. To conclude, all the darts of envy (darts that are oftentimes dangerous) shall be rebaited and dull in the shield of a public love, which shall make thee not to be wounded. Go to (O Prince) give an assurance in thy whole life, that thou hast cast an ' account with thy Kingdom, as one ready to render an account to God, & men, & that thou art not only, not a tyrant, but a defender of the public state, and so consequently, that thou art the soul of the Empire, and that life that the people breath. In one word, that thou art in the place of God, whom the good love, and reverence as a father, the wicked fear as a seveire judge. If thou art endued with this understanding, with these virtues, no danger shall assault thee, no treasons, no poisons, no murders. Valiant and most faithful guards shall defend thee. Thy subjects love, and that which is thy unseparable companion, a celestial grace. For what Prince soever is chaste, holy, and like unto God, as he shall seem to be advanced to that place by God himself, so evidently it will appear, that he is under the defence of the most high. This is that strong and safest guard, which can never be moved against the life of the Prince; which can never be corrupted with any reward, nor forced with any violence, against the Prince his safety.   

To These former I annex more arguments, that the Prince may learn by them to acknowledge God's goodness, and his great favours toward him. CHAP 19,  
NOw to all these the last thing I can add, is Fame; not a deceitful, & trifling benefit, but that which alone taketh the defence of every man's good name against all the injuries of time: I confess it is a late recompense, and the last reward, but with all, the greatest and the most precious, to this a Prince ought to direct his chief care of government: for I see not what a Prince should greatly desire besides this one thing; neither every kind of fame, but that which is good. For any fame is great enough, if it be good enough. This is that which to man prepareth the way to immortality: nay, itself is an Image, a beginning, and not the least part of eternity, with this touchstone in the end every man's life and manners are tried: For seildome is fame untrue, if it be Constant, and continual: Neither, do I call that fame, which is but the indiscreet rumours or the rash speech of the common people, or the voices which are extorted from fear or violence; neither every estimation of those that are present do I call fame: but the judgements of strangers, and of late posterity: then both which nothing is more uncorrupted. whatsoever thou art (O Prince) know that all that is placed in thy fame: This is to thee a treasure much more precious than any metal: From hence dost thou draw a name, and honour, a memory of thee, not only continual, but continually glorious. There is nothing which thou canst carry from hence saving this.  
If thou shouldest be such a one, as all men do promise themselves of thee: as all men would have thee to be, & to be accounted: such a one shall fame report thee. A glass doth not more truly represent the face, than the fame doth the man, especially thee, who canst escape the judgements of none, because thy brightness hath set thee in the eyes, the speeches, the opinions of all, thy life shall be looked into, thy wisdom shallbe examined, thy manners shallbe sifted, and against thy will, thou shalt be pictured in an open table, where every eye (though not curious) may read thee, that is in the Chronicles, and in those monuments which amongst posterities, must outlive all memory: to what end thinkest thou? that every man may propound thee as an example, if of virtue to be followed, if of vice to be eschewed; for as good fame followeth the name of a good Prince, so of a wicked, unfortunate, and never resting stains, attend upon their ghosts, from the courses of posterity. Now choose which thou wilt, whether those things which are written of thee, shall be read to thy honour & praise, or to thy everlasting infamy, weigh and balance both these, thou canst not choose or eschew both; the one thou mayst avoid. I do not think that thou art such an enemy to thyself, but that thou hadst rather favour thy honour, then procure thy shame; that thou hadst rather be esteemed virtuous, then dishonest. Therefore exercise this severe government upon thy senses, upon thy affections, that there may be nothing, wherein thou needest to be beholding to any: pardon thyself nothing, let there be nothing, which any man may forgive thee. So excel amongst men, as thy honour, thy dignity, thy power doth, that thy honour may be above mortality, propound unto men thy life, as a perpetual censure, build this commendation to thyself, that thou (which deuidest honour to all) mayst worthily sit in that high seat of honour thyself. As thy original shows thee to be Lord of many countries, so let thy virtues assure men, that thou art a preferrer of them. Never place more in thy will, then in equity; never more in force, then in justice; gain unto thyself a good Name, which often flattery will not afford unto thee, nor these riches which thou obtainest by entreaty, nor the strength of thy mighty Kingdom, nor so many thousands of men warring for thy safety; thy fame must be thy own gift. Vice's will gain unto thee a fame odious, and hateful, but virtues, honourable, and everlasting. Entreat this fame of thyself; show in this, how favourable thou art to thyself, to thy country. For the fame of the PRINCE is oftentimes the fame of his country: and though fame (as I said) be the name of a future and late-lasting good, yet notwithstanding thou in deserving well of the common wealth, inwardly shall perceive those joys, which advance the best men, above the common delights of the ignorant and base multitude. 
All earths shall speak of thee,  
And sundry coasts shall register thy Name,  
When times to come shall Chronicle the same.  Thus thou understandest, how little acquaintance, thou oughtest to have with sordid and infectious pleasures, which most of all do hurt him, whom most of all they flatter, which effeminate any man, be he never so strong; wheresoever thy are, from thence, strength both of the body and mind are speedily banished; whosoever he is (be he never so valiant) after that pleasures have laid hold upon him, he is nothing else, but the relics and shadow of that he was.  
To conclude, pleasures do drown the mind in that gulf from whence it cannot easily be freed. ●…ye, what can be more unworthy, him that is beautified with that honour to be called a man? what can be a greater enemy to him, who is a Prince? Neither the armed troops, nor the enemy that hath possessed the field, or shaken the walls, is so much to be feared by a Prince, as this sorrow making monster pleasure: These do not besiege the walls, but deceive the senses; they come not a far off, but are at hand and within ourselves; they assault us not with foot, and horse, but they stir up our whole body and all parts of it against the soul; I say they distract man and are authors of a civil war within himself. In man's inward parts they fight so fiercely and so treacherously, that the better, and more noble part of man is brought into subjection to the worse; so that whilst man particularly dissenteth in himself, he is wholly conquered; all brought under the rule of an other; wholly compelled to yield altogether from himself; and plainly transformed into a brute beast.  
Therefore (O Prince) if thou desirest that thy Name may be grateful, and honourable to posterity, and from hence obtain joys, that are sound and continual; if thou wilt have this dignity, to be a step to those happy and everlasting rewards, that are reserved for good Princes; blow away and disperse these dark clouds of vulgar and base pleasure which interposed before thy eyes, eclipse from thee the sight of those heavenly joys: If thou at any time be brought into a true contemplation of these, than thou wouldst not know what those impure pleasures are, which are allotted to sordid and base persons. Let them keep unto themselves that which is fit for them, undergo thou that difficult labour, in the end whereof there is true felicity. It is every man's work to look at that which is before his feet, But it is thy office, to look further and to aim higher, and those things which are either behind or beneath thee (as being over base) not once to regard them.  
Surely whosoever is drawn thoroughly with the love of heavenly things, can be no more entangled in these base and vile desires, than an Aeagle in the small threades of a spiders web. Therefore resolve thyself, that no base thing is to be thought of by thee; that nothing is to be desired of thee, which is not great and excellent. And last of all, that nothing is to be esteemed great by thee, which is not indeed such in the judgements of all. Thus shalt thou obtain, that thy wishes shallbe worthy thyself, and that place which thou sustainest; and in the highest place, thou shalt obtain the highest honour.  
Thus, if thou never sever thy wishes from the common wishes; if thou intendest nothing, that is of a private and unlawful hope, if thou equalest thy hopes to the rule of right; all men will strive, who shall most further them: he will think to have gained much unto himself, who shall approve himself most to thee: who shall perform to thee most labour, most study, most service. Thus walking this way, thou shalt never be thrust into those headlong and dangerous downfalles; thou shalt covet nothing that is another's; thou shalt never take arms for glory, and only to boast thy greatness and power: Cover not thy ill ambition with false names; think it not a Kingly thing to strive for that which is an others, and inglorious only to defend thine own: but proceed unwillingly (and as it wear compelled with the malice of those with whom thou hast to deal) to revenge public injuries, and recover the right of thy kingdom from unjust possessors, with a virtuous and religious war. Admit for thy companions not headlong Covetousness, and blind desire, but duty, and fortitude; and then doubt not, but thou shalt break open those passages that are shut; thou shalt go through those paths that are beset; thou shalt make plain those places that are uneven; and easily escape all difficulties whatsoever; in one word, what course soever thou take, it is sure to be balanced and certain. The reason is manifest, because all things are easy, obvious, and open to these two virtues, justice and Fortitude. And as infelicity, repentance, and sorrow are usually the end of wicked and unwise designs, so victory, success, and felicity, are the recompense of those actions that are well begun. If these and such like thoughts, be firmly rooted in thy inward soul, thou (whosoever thou art that sittest in the throne of Majesty) if thou professest the fear of GOD, if thou cravest his holy spirit, to be the author of thy council, and the director of thy life, thy mind (doubtless) shallbe purified, and all blemishes of an unthankful mind being removed, and thy eyes cleared, thou shalt then perceive those heavenly and happy gifts wherewith thou art compassed, and advanced to that honour. Thus banishing all inward blindness, thou shalt not measure this place with his watchful cares, with his ungrateful labours; not with the liberties of vices not in the opertunities of pleasure, but in the occasions of just advantages of well deserving of mankind, which is the only and chief end of Sovereignity, and by this means thou shalt give just, and deserved thanks with due honour, and a grateful full mind, to the KING of all kings, who is only most great, and most wise.   

Here I show how this sin of unthankfulness, is engrafted in man's nature, in that Children are not less unthankful than others. CHAP. 20.  
I Did think that I had finished this labour of rehearsing, of admonishing, of chastising ungrateful persons; and I was ready to lay aside my pen; when behold suddenly I saw a great troop of unthankful creatures, and indeed such a one, as that those whom I have reckoned already, are but few in comparison of these. If I should go about to rehearse them, all the day would hide itself, before I had fully acomplisht half: And indeed as many men as I see, so many men likewise do I see unthankful, wicked, & injurious esteemers of those benefits that they have received; Nay I do not except him, who although he can scarce speak, yet even the words of his infancy are but lamentations of that misery which he feigneth to himself, and being so little, yet he carrieth a heart swelling, and full of anger. He scarce is, and yet he is altogether unthankful. Oh happy (saith he) are men which do live at their own disposition, and are not kept in this hard government of Parents; or of those to whom their parents have committed the charged. Oh what ill luck have I, who, if I desire any thing, be it never so small, and such a thing as without loss to any may be given unto me, yet it is either denied me proudly, or by force taken or secretly conveyed from me, only of purpose to cross me. There is no man that is elder than I, which doth not as it were of right, with a kind of boldness, challenge authority over me; the basest slave in the house is made more account of then I, that am appointed to be the heir: All men abuse my weakness, my tenderness, my simplicity; There is scarce any man that thinketh it fit to please, or obey me; I must ever hear sharp words, hard, bitter, and cruel speeches, as peace, hear, come hither, go, do this, do not that, take heed sirrah: and such like. I see nothing but teachers and correctors every where (that is vexers and torments of this young age): and if I do any thing childishly, or speak or do any thing merrily, O bold boy (they say) They threaten, & indeed beat me; my nurse when I was a child did wrap up my body straightly in my swaddling clothes; but now is all that liberty more straightly shut up, which I ought to have had from my mother's womb; I must now live at others men's direction, at other men's pleasures; if this be to live, thus to live under so unjust and cruel government. And thus am I used, although I see and know well enough, what is fit to be done, and for any thing that I see, me thinks I have more wit and understanding then these ancient folk, which seem to be so wise, which speak nothing but these old doting sayings, ever imposing hardness upon me, labour, study, watching, manners, respect of my elders, and all sad and hard things. And all these things (say they) belong to virtue: When indeed they know not what virtue is.  
This I am sure of, that by this means they take unjustly from me my pleasures, my play, my delight; thus obstinately they deal, to take me from my pleasure, whilst they seek not only to keep me from being merry, but hardly and straightly keep me in, imposing upon me at these years ancient and grave behaviour: Neither do they consider that by this means, they do weaken that liberal, and ingenious disposition, which I know no comparison of others, to be in me: Shall I never come out of this bondage and government? Shall I never live at my own pleasure? Must I ever be ruled by others? They call also in derision the school a play; were we scarce play, but I am put thither, that they may play 
Ludus.  upon my skin; and such as I am. A play indeed, nay a most unpleasant place where still I am either beaten, or afraid; There I must ever live under a tyrant, who if he inflict any punishment, I cannot appeal from him, he himself accuseth, subscribeth, inquireth, knoweth, and punisheth.  
Thus do their ieastinges prove earnest to us, and in their confidence they rule in this play as if they were in earnest. Thou shalt never see them, but frowning to terrify us. But alas, what learn we there, and against our wills to? what reward have we of this daily and continual labour? and of such vexation? unless peradventure they think it concerns the Commonwealth, to have our tender wits wrapped up in these trifles, & to stick fast in these rough thorny quiddities of Grammar: For what else shall I call these letters, syllable, nouns, verbs, inflections, conjugations, terminations, cases, tenses, Syntaxis, exceptions, and to conclude whatsoever else is contained in those harse rules of Grammar? Which (notwithstanding) they urge and boast of, as a thing serious, and the height of all learning. Must our wits be thus miserably tormenmed, as though there were nothing, which could more pleasantly be learned, or more profitably be known? Is this that advantage that I have to be borne nobly, or honestly as I am? I would to God I had been borne in some poor cottage, in no reckoning, or account, there might I have lived more at liberty: there every man is wife enough without a teacher: there is no such word, as a more liberal education, which I think to be hard servitude: there no man is kept in so straightly: neither are manners there so carefully and exactly squared by the rules of this scrupelous and odious civility, which destroyeth the manners, which men have by nature, and changeth them into feigned counterfeit and composed manners, which you may better call a counterfeiting of an ingenious disposition.  
There those that are my equals live with little respect, or reverence to their parents and elders: there every man followeth his natural liberty: at least they are freed from this fear, which continually makes me sweat, and no marvel, if I bring out my words slowly, and stumblingly: if (never at my own government) I live a life unpleasant, and unsweet. But (they say) this is the way to honesty, to honour, to dignity, whatsoever in man's life is rare, to be wished for, to be admired, it is propounded, and allotted to no other, than those who have their childhood and youth trained in those learn.  
These or such like every unskilful fellow urgeth, warranted by authority, rather than reason; because they make a fair show, which I can never be persuaded are truly spoken: so far do my senses not only abhor from these things, but from the memory of them. Well, howsoever it is, I think they are not of that value to be bought at so deire a price.   

Hear I do teach the child how he may lay aside this infection, and show himself thankful unto God, CHAP. 21  
surely I marvel, how these ill thoughts so soon creep into so young a mind; which being corrupted: I do less marvel, such speeches to come into a mouth so prattling, and full of talk. Hear my son: if yet, thou art not full of goodness (for from whence shouldest thou have it)? yet thou oughtest to be void of evil. But thou (in the very entrance) showest how ready thou art to evil, whilst thou professest those things, from which, if modesty could not, yet the knowledge of thy own ignorance, aught to restrain thee. But as in a fruitful soil, poisoned weeds do grow of their own accord, when as wholesome herbs scarce grow with out tilling, so in the mind of man, if discipline and wholesome precepts do not first possess him, there may be easily reaped a harvest of much ill, which I do observe in thee at this time; Thou disdainest that thou livest at an other man's government. Here let me ask of thee, if thou knowest what it is to live. I know, thou wilt answer me that to live is nothing else but to be: For those that are dead are not: Consider in this speech how much ignorance thou bewrayest, thus things without life do live, because they are, why dost thou blush? I know thou wishest it unspoken, this wit of thine, doth in this discover his ignorance; take heed therefore that thou do not say; that thou livest because thou art: I confess nothing hath life, but that which is, but to man there must something more be added to make him live, not the life of plants, herbs, and such like, nor the life of beasts, but of men, the life of man is the society, and union both of body and soul. The soul is a divine breath, which infused into the body doth move it with his own and proper motion.  
Therefore thou mayst call man a body animated, or rather a reasonable soul composed with a body, given unto it for his governor. Therefore when weesay man lives, we do not say man only useth the offices of the body, but of the soul, which possesseth the body as an instrument, or a se●…uant, or a slave: If then thou understandest what are the offices of the soul, thou shalt observe that the same are the offices of the whole man: this doth the soul, at this it aimeth, to make itself, and the body (that is the whole man) like unto God. So that, humanity is nothing else, but a certain divinity, expressed in this mortal flesh: now with what steps dost thou think do we ascend into this high dignity? Surely, with piety and good manners, piety we have said to be a true knowledge and worship of God: manners are the fruits and effects of piety, or rather a piety, which seasons the affections, from whence it is dispersed into the senses; then seeing to live, is nothing else but daily to be purged, to wax pure, to be lifted up, and more united to God; man (in his life) ought to propound no other thing but piety and reformation of his manners: to be endued with these not of any sort, but with the least, the most chaste, the most severe, the most holy.  
Thus thou seest, that thou art not borne by chance, but of purpose and to a great end, namely that thou mayst be come religious, and holy, and a renewed Image of that Deity, that framed thee.  
Now I demand of thee, if thou of thyself knowest what these are, which I have named piety & manners. I think thou wilt answer, that thou knowest not those things, which thou canst not know, unless thou learn them; and now thou confessest that thou art ignorant of virtue, which is nothing else but a Piety working in the inward man, and showing itself forth in his life, in one word, virtue is nothing else, but active piety. Now thou must needs confess that thou knowest not what it is to live, be not afraid to confess it, It is an excellent thing (saith Columella) and he is a wise and a skilful writer, who understandeth that he is ignorant of that he knoweth not, and desireth to learn that, whereof he is ignorant, If thou art ignorant, thou art to be taught, and to be instructed.  
Dislike not this speech as too hard. For in the increase of years, and when thou hast more experience, thou shalt find thyself full of rashness and overmuch love; what art thou to be taught? to know to love, to follow God, and consequently to avoid those things which God hateth & abhorreth. These are the true effects of that Piety, which I have spoken off; and until thou comest to this degree of knowledge and virtue (believe me) thou art not a man, but half a wild beast; that is a man's body in shape, but inwardly full of savage, and wild behaviour. Therefore if thou wilt be wholly a man, not half a man, and half a beast, yield thyself wholly into the government of thy soul; let thy soul with the bridle of reason, rule thy affections; let thy affections command thy senses, then shall thy senses be contained within the limits and bounds of chastity, holiness, Innocency; they shallbe such as is fit, for those that are servants to the soul, Thus thou shalt frame Piety unto thyself, that most holy good, and the fountain of all good things. From Piety, Holiness is dispersed into the manners; both these ways directly lead us to that most happy estate which I have spoken of before, which is a likeness of God. Thus according to that towardness that is in thee, thou art wholly to be stirred up, wholly to be inflamed, with an honest desire, to lay aside whatsoever savage disposition is in thee; that thou mayst be wholly a man, and from being a man be translated into God. I do see thy mind which out goes thy age, I see thy sparks of gentility, which if thou follow rightly, doubtless thou shall attain this honour. I see those branches of virtue in thee, swelling full ready to burst forth. I do see the blossoms forerunners of thy shining virtue; therefore proceed to lend thy mind and thy ears to my council, thither, whither thou must go, nothing can bring thee but severity of education. The ground (though it be fruitful) yet it is tamed with the plough; the clods must be broken, harrowed, and the whole field duly husbanded; in this manner there must be a violence done to thee; thy wit must be manured, which though it be good, yet till then it is untilled and full of thorns, from thence must be weeded whatsoever is hurtful; oftentimes must it be turned over, and brought under, that it may be civil, soft and tender; that it may be bettered and fit for to receive good seed; this is the digging and pruning of it, to c●… off that which is superfluous, luxuriant, and hurtful; in the country this is done in the earth; in the vine, in the branches, in the trees; with thee, in the mind, in the affections, in the senses, in the words, in the manners. This is never done, without much weariness of the husbandmen, and not without some vexation unto thee; whilst the person is cured, they set far from him the touch of those meats which are not only apparently hurtful, but of those which are somewhat unwholesome; the one overthrow the strength of medicines, the other hinder it; so, when the wit is tamed with the force of education, with all, thou art to be drawn from thy desires, thy delights, thy pleasures, thy insolent spirits are to be suppressed, and kept under, thy insulting and quick wit is to be contained within the bonds of frugality and modesty; amongst all virtues there are none fitter for that age, none fitter to receive learning; thy opinion being at that years (if thou hast any) is to be directed by the sentence and will of an other; thou must of necessity wholly depend upon the judgement of those, to whom thou art committed; these are those careful workmen, of so great a task; who undertake to perfect, and finish what nature hath begun; Doubtless thou art thrice happy, if timely thou gainest this discipline, and indeed more severe and more sincere, by the help whereof thou shalt pass those shallows of sin, and wickedness wherein so many men (although well instructed) unfortunately sink; whose masters have not so much instructed their toward dispositions, as have armed their vices; I will use the examples of great men, Alcibiades and Crycias (the daily auditors of Zocrates) were principally instructed, who can deny it? Yet neither of them was honest, Nay both rather the reproach and stain, not only of their families, but of the Commonwealth. For the one assaulted his country, and with the others riches was the liberty of it shaken. What shall I say of Nero? was there ever any man better taught? Did ever any man live more monstrously? I could easily remember many such out of ancient and late stories, and I would do it, if it were not needless to teach a thing so well known, that many have proved very far unlike to their beginnings and their first education.  
Now what do you think shall happen to them, which are left to themselves? Who are left neglected, and untaught? In how dangerous, how slippery, how headelong a place are they? Are they not withal laid open to a World of vices, to the froth of infecting pleasures, to the dangerous tempests of sin? Must not these expect in the end, an inevitable shiep-wracke? not to detain thee long, it must be confessed, that without discipline, men are not made men, but forged the unhappy & deformed brood of villainy, and so the hateful procurers of God's wrath. Moreover thou complainest, that thy manners are severely corrected, and thy wits informed into wisdom with ancient rigour & strict discipline, lest they should be weakened & deformed with vices. Surely if it be not done at this time (& with all speed) it will never be done. It is once done, that it need not ever be done; and it is done now, that it may not be done too late, For it is much to be accustomed to any thing, when one is young, I do not deny but amidst the cares of manners, and the study of learning, remission of labour, play and recreation are to be granted to thee; so that, that whatsoever be, be done warily, moderately, and tempered with holiness, and modesty. Therefore the first and most laboursome work of thy education, is in sweeping, purging and preparing of thee: Next unto this, is another care not much less, sowing, planting, engrafting in thee, and such like; for it is to little purpose to plough, unless thou sow; to pull up, unless thou plant: to prune, unless thou engrafted; these offices as far forth as they belong to thy education, are earnest and seasonable admonitions, wholesome precepts, which are an effectual means of persuading, and of instilling into the mind that fear and reverence of God, which is the possessor of a pure heart, and a chaste mind, the worker of all holiness, & to conclude the reconciler of God and man.  
From hence it followeth, that that which we call learning, leadeth him directly unto this. Now learning no man thoroughly obtaineth, without the help of severe discipline, which thou lately blamedst; one part of learning is the knowledge of things created, and of all those things which are without us; but there is an other part, which is more inward, true, and better, which is the true knowledge of God, and of himself, so far as the mind of man is capable of them, this knowledge we call true wisdom: which then truly is so, when there cleaveth to it a true strength of the mind, gathered and collected from true precepts, and worthy & honourable examples. This is that which good learning promiseth, and performeth, not to every learner, but only to him, whose good and fortunate wi●… hath admitted learning, that it may be as a help to a good mind. Now when I say learning, I mean no such thing as the vulgar think, that is, a vain ostentation of learned scholarship, that which furthereth a man nothing to the fear of God; that learning for which so many insolent and trivial Saterists knit their brows, as men busied in most weighty affairs, when indeed all that great noise they make, is nothing else, but swelling & importunity: and no thing more unlearned than such learning. Neither do I mean that learning, which hath buried those ancient manners; the forerunners of lust (which these effeminate half learned men, that have an itch of Poetizing) long since, have made a band of it. Let this learning pack hence which is nothing but a corrupter to wantonness. Neither do I mean that learning which he useth, who at this day is a great man: 
Who with all care great riches doth obtain  
Before learned labour, still preferring gain   
Nor to conclude that dross and scum of learning, or whatsoever in learning, profitable may be unknown. That I account learning, which so beautifieth a man outwardly, that inwardly it doth arm him, and instruct him, whether he speak or hold his peace: silent in manners, and innocency: speaking in wisdom and eloquence. Now to learning, there is no entrance, but by Grammar; I confess the entrance to Grammar is so hard, so thorny, that it seems to be without any path, there is nothing can delight him that cometh to it, but merely Hope. Hope sure and near. And as amongst thorns oftentimes are gathered sweet roses, so by the knotty and unpleasant paths of Grammar, we come to the sweetness of pure, and reformed speech: From hence to the knowledge of those arts, which do carry a man to that knowledge of God, whereof mortality is capable.  
Therefore, that which now thou fearest as hard, hereafter thou wilt embrace as pleasant; that which is now horrid and ill savoured; after, thou shalt see the same beautiful, that which thou callest dry, and barren, thou wilt marvel for the plenty of it to be so fruitful, and for the profit to be so sweet, Doubt not but honey followeth this gall; the time will come, and it is not far of, when having power over thyself, thou shalt understand these things to be truly and wholesomely spoken. Neither then wilt thou complain to be called to an account, for that which thou dost childishly and ignorantly; thou wilt not then wish thyself borne in that estate and condition, where childishness and all thy other time may be spent without shame of offending, without fear, and reverence of thy betters; without teaching, without hope of any after-reward; thou wilt then confess that fear to be a profitable affection, and an ornament; not a sign of thy nobility, or a title of thy kindred, but a great and a very honou●…able token of that ingenious docility, and virtuous capacity, that is engrafted in thee. This respect and reverence a pledge of thy future modesty, the embracing of these liberal arts, to be the approaching harvest of much virtue; the hope of reward and the sure guide; that leads to reward, what shall I use many words? That which now seems unto thee a hard servitude, is a sweet condition; This is the high way to true liberty. This fear begetteth true joy; learn my son hereafter to be as thankful; as thou hast now showed thyself unthankful, lay quite aside this wantonness in time; take to thyself thoughts, simple, pure, honest and upright. Humbly worship God, to whom thou art so dear and intimate, who that thou mayst be perpetually his, will have thee (being young) framed like unto himself, and by that means (unwillingly, & striving against) yet of wit docible and capable to bring thee unto him. Next unto God, reverence thy parents, and all those, who are placed over thee, as domestical magistrates, who in care and goodwill succeed in the place of parents, and bring thee up liberally & ingeniously, that thou mayst one day give full assurance, that thou wert profitably borne to thyself and the common wealth. Of these thou must confess, that thou art beloved, & beloved again; when they do load thee (who art but half a man) with those gifts of the mind; that thou mayst be a whole man, in every respect absolute; & so wholly dedicate thyself to God, that thou mayst whole lie be piety, and holiness, which is the full perfection of all human felicity.   

Hear I do teach that women are not less unthankful than those, whom I have remembered. CHAP 22  
IN this cause, and in this kind, a woman is next unto a child. Few do contain their hopes, few their speeches, in the bounds of womanly modesty, & the shamefastness of their sex, whilst they complain, that they are unworthily used; whilst they are unmeasurably angry at their sex, as being weak & unequal to their great minds. In one word, whilst they (from minds not to be comforted) complain that they are women, they accuse openly and greatly God, that did thus make them. There is scarce any, who have not these and the like thoughts in them. Oh, woe is me, why was I not borne a man, who have a mind not unfit for any thing. Must I be tied to this sex which is a bondslave to idleness, and sloth? What do I (wretch that I am) follow virtue, to whom nature hath given no generous spirits? And which least they should show themselves, they must against my will be choked and suppressed? Why fool that I am do I aspire to any honour, to any renown, or a reward of virtue, to whom all the passages of virtue are shut up? O vain instinct, O noble spirits, engrafted in me idly, which are confined in that short room of this obeying sex, whereof I am grieved, ashamed, and repent.  
There is great in aequallitie in a mind that is not weak, and a condition so much to be repent of: Thus have we a perpetual conflict with ourselves, and a cruel torment wherewith we are afflicted. If I may say it, to what end have we so much acuteness, sharpness, understanding and quickness granted to us? To what purpose have we such a nimble wit, such a swift mind? But that these things may be a torment to us, by whose means we understand those things which we are kept from? Is it not that we may be unprofitably angry at other men's ignorance and sloth, that we seriously may grieve to see dull and slothful heads possess those rooms, that belong unto us. For what profit is it to know, that which it is in vain to know? to be able to use that which we must not touch? to strive to go thither, from whence we are kept back? we are forbidden the knowledge and profession of liberal arts: we●… are comm●…nded to abstain from public offices: we cannot attain to the honour due to wars, nor those valiant acts; because forsooth in these things, there is most virtue which they say is derived from hence, in that it belongs unto men.  
Is it not plain that we are excluded from all hope of honour, and from all those things which are greatest and most to be desired? which things being taken from us; what is there left us for which our condition may seem (I do not say to be wished for) but to be tolerable. We are set to trifles, wherewith in the mean time we are delighted as children with fair speeches and flattery; with which we are loaden, whilst we are robbed of true praise, and that which is mos●… to be lamented, we are partners in those things, wherein men gain their most praise, and yet they ascribe it only to themselves: where we have any thing to do, there is nothing of any moment.  
And it is no marvel, if we be admitted into no society of name and honour with men,  
The praise of whole Countries belongs unto men, only Triumphs, victories, all honours they are mens: and we (as all other things) are but the additions of those praises that are given to men. But this indignity (mark their craft) they mitigate with the len●…tie of words, whilst they call us wives, fellows, and their co●…iōs in all things; when indeed (if a man esteem it rightly) there is no equality betwixt us & them, no communion of dignity and authority, but that which is trifling and in name only. Whereas indeed we are reckoned up amongst other ordinary household-stuff, little better than bondslaves, and yet for the burden and labour, we have more than the greater part; And as we are kept from all good things, so we bear almost alone all the burden of their ill. If men have begun any thing that they cannot go through, we must finish it: If they offend abroad, we must smart for it at home: the sorrow of their mad pleasures lights upon us; Men, they have the pleasures, the delights; but we have the sorrow, we have the tears; men, they have the reward of their labours, we only have the necessity of it: Our frugality must maintain their riot, our obedience must increase their licentiousness, our modesty their fear●…enes: whilst every one of them pleaseth himself, and taketh delight in whatsoever pleaseth him, we (in the mean time) si●…te like lambs, cripples within our doors, not Idle, but commanded to take care of the house, and set unto those businesses, wherein there is nothing but plain bondage. This is that, which increaseth our grief: for in the house, what tedious servitude are we tie unto? First of all, the education of our children is referred unto us, which is some ease of the intolerable labours of child birth; In this, our husbands do notably abuse our affections, for because we are mothers, they say this burden belongs to the mother only, which indeed were fit equally to be borne of both? and as we are daughters, we are immediately as an unprofitable burden put out of our father's house, & sent to live with strangers; thus we go from the government of our parents into the hands of our husbands, new Lords, whose dispositions (how cross soever) we must suffer even against our wills; & without any hope of a more tolerable condition: If we be widows, then are we subject to wrongs, and laid open without defence to all injuries, & reproaches, forsaken of all, yea, oftentimes of those, of whom it is little fit we should: I grant, there are some things granted unto as great favours, which indeed may be reckoned amongst those scoffs, & derisions that are used towards us; that is our cleanelines, and ornaments, and all those furnitures which they call the woman's world; thus are we decked like painted birds, only to please others. And as children have toys given to please them, so are we thus painted only to content our husbands: May not any man see these scoffings? Is it not enough that we are contemned, but we must be thus made a scorn and derision? We are forbidden to meddle with any thing; we are kept from public offices, we are never suffered to come abroad, but as some solemn pomp which is carried to be seen; we are forbidden to obtain those commendations which are true praises, we are shut up in our houses as perpetual prisoners, we are by the name of wives subject to other pleasures, brought under an unjust government. Thus do they abuse our simplicity. In one word, if you respect either beauty, or wit, we must confess we are placed high enough, but from thence we are cast down, to that low estate, that we have lost all that is excellent.   

Here the woman is diligently admonished that omitting all unjust complaints against God, she acknowledgeth that the benefits bestowed upon her, are not less; then those bestowed upon men. CHAP. 23.  
Idoe hear this old complaint, not therefore just because it is old, but in this the more unjust, in that it is more common, and more usual: Thou oughtest long since (O woman) to have understood the dignity of thy condition; and this knowledge long since aught to have been a bridle to thy untamed mind, to thy foolishness, licentiousness, and to thy intemperate tongue.  
Thou oughtest long since to have known, that thou art a man, them whom (in that he is the second from god) there is no creature upon earth more high, more exc'llent; this very name (man) ought to have taken away all emulation; seeing to man there can be none with himself: Neither art thou only the sister of man, but man's twin, or rather (if thou wilt so have it) another man; not less in dignity then that first, but only in the order of birth later, in sex distinguished from him, but proceeding from the same high power, wrought by the same hand of that great workman, made of the same beginning, both linked to one another, in that, neither goeth contrary ways, neither aiming at himself, but both (nature being their guide) linked to his mate, both agree in this nearness, or rather unity, in wishes, intent, in love, that this Common wealth of mankind may not be rend in factions, but in many kinds, preserving an unity: and that, that Image of God may remain one, and the same, not in one man, but (which is more excellent) in all.  
Seeing then, from the same beginnings thou art brought by the same means, to the same end, whereunto all mortality tendeth, see how far thou di●…entest, not only from man, but from humanity, when thou dost so malipertly complain that thou art endued with a soul degenerous & fit for nothing. Consider here (if thou art not much deceived;) thou shalt not degenerate, if thou d●…st neither depart nor dissent from the author, if in humility thou submittest thy neck to that yoke thou art appointed, if constantly, thou bear this without complaining▪ not to be degenerous (be not deceived) is not to meddle above thy reach; but to contain thyself within the limits of thy duty, not to wander from thy first beginnings, not to be unlike thyself, but firmly and continually, to apply that, to which thou ar●… allotted. Now consider with me what is that task that GOD hath set thee unto; thou art made to this end, that thou mayst be an other man, if thou art another, thou canst not be the first, therefore constantly keep that place, that is allotted to thee; that which is another's, belongs nothing to thee. For there is nothing more acceptable to God, then for all men to act those parts, that are committed to them: This thy sex is that great and large theatre, wherein all this must be done: Out of this, thou art out of thy part, thou art nothing, thou canst not please God: To this sex is appointed to watch; to this watch, diligence; to both fear. What moveth thee (O thou wretch) that thou art to be a r●…agate from this so profitable an affection? what looseness is this of thy weak mind, that thou which art borne to care, and watchfulness, shouldest serve boldness, and ●…ircenesse? Instead of a mind firm and constant, to take unto thyself a mind degenerous? that departing from itself, taking care of other things and forgetting her own, that thou art placed in safety goest into a place slippery, and so headlong and full of rocks. Surely one that is so borne, nothing doth so well beseem them, as a disposition quiet & modest; whereof thou art well admonished by thy habit, in that thou art masked & hooded. As soon as thou art desirous of rule, and seekest to deal with those things that are above thy strength & capacity; and as soon as by encountering dangers thou wilt show how valiant and strong thou art; thou dost put off that woman, that God made thee, & putst upon thee, I know not what shape of a monster, thou canst not lay aside thy womanish disposition, but thou stainest it with manlike vices; neither is it strange, if all men abhor that kind of women as unlikely, which laying aside their modest garments and behaviour, put themselves in armour, commanding their troops of soldiers, challenging the enemy; which have such foreheads that they dare make long orations to the people, to give laws; and to conclude: handle all public and civil duties; this sex ought to be acquainted with none of these actions; these motions, nature hath denied unto them: If any Woman over impudently affect these, over-uiolently be carried to this course, she is no more a Woman, but an untamed creature, which treadeth under foot all Womanish ornaments. But thou sayst all these praises men have. Indeed it is so, and rightly by order, for the good of the common wealth, And as becometh men: it belongs unto a man with valiant acts to make way to those honours, without which, their virtues are nothing else but sloth, for every power of the mind that hath not his end propounded doth wax faint, and if no man doth affect praise, if no man desire to be made Noble by dangers, If virtue have nothing to awake it, strait all society of life is troubled and confused, the Common wealth is left to be torn in pieces, by every base fellow. There is nothing sacred or holy, no man shall have any substance: outrages shall possess all places: boldness shall challenge all things to itself: to conclude, we shall never live a life safe, and secure; but wandering and full of scarcity. Therefore God hath providently engrafted in men this desire of performing hard things, and so of obtaining praise: the worker of those things which in this mortality are greatest. I do not think in this there is an envy that doth trouble thee; for so thou enviest thyself, so thou shouldest look asquint at thy own good, there is nothing with thee severed from thy husband. No not thy being; nor any of these things which belong unto thee, or wherein thy safety and welfare consisteth. Being thus admitted to be his companion of his goods, thou art admitted into fellowship of his goodness, and of his praise, and art honoured with that glory which thy husband doth cast upon thee: neither is it strange, if both your wishes be contained in either, If thou pertakest with his prosperity and adversity. For thou canst not if thou wouldst put off this mind, nor abrogate this law of Nature; nay nor break this same league; these same taunts and disdainful gauling of the mind, which so much trouble thee, account them no more to be the effects of true gentility than mushrooms, burrs, thistles, and such like are to be termed fruits. Take heed that thou dost not forget that modesty, which is more gracious than any favour, and fairer than any beauty. Thou canst not ascribe too much to thyself, but with all thou must despise thy husband; and how far thou departest from fear, shame and respect; so far thou departest from those virtues, which may truly be called jewels, of that sex, precious without cost, and so precious, that they ought to be esteemed as life, and ransomed with death. Therefore this violence of mind, unprofitable and unseemly, contain within the bounds and limits of modesty; be not over witty to abuse those good-gifts that nature hath lent thee, make not unto thyself a needless business: but wholly addict thyself to his love and obedience, to whom this sex of thine hath tied thee; especially to that divine will, wherein it is fit, all human desires be extinguished: if thy care be any, let it be this, to cut off all womanish complaint, and foolish wrangling, never be puffed up with inconsiderate violence, never trouble thyself with an needless labour: whatsoever liketh thy husband let it please thee: wherein he placeth thy name, dignity & honour in that rest. To conclude, so resolve, that as he is born to the commonwealth, so thou art borne to him. For God will have our whole life contained in these limits, Commandment and Obedience. These are those two firm bonds, wherewith all human society is tied. God commandeth and man obeyeth. But that, due obedience may be given to that wise Creator of all things, he hath given and disposed to every man his special charged; to men, to be God's vicegerents; to women, to be men's helpers; thou canst not invert this order, but thou must be equal to thy husband. For when thou ceasest to obey, thou beginnest to be his equal; if equal, to be his superior, if his superior, surely to be his worse, because thou wilt be wise otherwise then GOD hath appointed; who would have both you to live in obedience to him, and betwixt yourselves in that order which he hath set down, and to those that do this, he hath submitted all this (how great soever) frame of his creatures; and hath allotted to you wisdom, & understanding fit for it; to him, what is fit for commanding, to thee, what is for obeying; hence it is that thou oughtest to permit unto thy husband all the government of thy mind, and the strength of it; neither think that thy husband doth add more to your common good, by this knowledge and power of commanding, but thou dost as much by thy diligence of obeying; and in that thou art not hazarded in public dangers, know that this is for thy honour, who as a more precious vessel, art kept safer. To what end then are so many complaints? what mean this foolish quarrelling with God? How art thou become so talkeative? so ingenious? so subtle, in reproach and dishonour of that sacred power? Dost thou diligently observe those virtues, which are the ornaments of thy sex? Dost thou think those small which are reckoned amongst the greatest honours, because the greatest cannot be without them? Do not herein shine those never enough esteemed ornaments, which have advanced some women to the highest honour? amongst these I must account those Women who excel in this, that they respect the bringing up of their children; whereof that thou art made an overseer, believe me the greatest business of all is committed to thee; for Education is nothing else but the information of the whole life, which way this leaneth, doubtless that way doth a man bend. A diligent and innocent education usually maketh men good; but a negligent and wicked, maketh them evil. Education is contained in the motherly affection, diligence, looking to, admonitions, chastenings: all these things (in the tenderness of age) do draw the first lines of virtue or vice, those stains or honours that after rest upon our lives, here do first take root. Now consider how much is committed to thee, to whom the whole man is committed. Dost thou then complain that thou art evil dealt with all, and that thy virtues are shut up in a narrow room? Doubtless this is a place large and conspitious, where thou mayst show them as thou dost use thy care; this is no servile office, all things in this are not only ingenious, but full of honour, surely man of both kinds, when he considereth his birth; riseth to thee, doth reverence and doth worship thee, as his parent, and a parent in a two fold respect, both by the office of nature and the dignity of bringing up. For it were little that hope committed to thee in thy womb, by thy husband with a happy success to bring into the World, if this latter care also were not added, which formeth and frameth the mind to all humanity. Oh honourable name of a parent, O excellent prerogative of that mother of the family, with whose virtues the whole house doth shine: Oh happy family, wherein the sayings of a choice and wise Woman, are so many instructions, and her deeds so many virtuous examples of religion, chastity, and holiness, to this may be added the care of looking to the house, which thou mayst perform with frugality and sparing. These are those virtues, whereunto if thou apply thy whole mind, thou shalt gain unto thyself nobility, and honour; these are those things which nature, manners, laws, impose upon women & these businesses & cares oftentimes exclude those vices, which are usually incident to that sex; wilful levity, motions variable and inconstant, prattling, preposterous ambition, by themselves, by their husbands, by their children, in their power much weakness, impatiency of delay, sickness of hope, wantonness; ready anger, riot, boldness, confidence an immoderate mind, and all those other monsters that do rise from these; wherewith too many laying aside all modesty, doubt not to stain their womanish ornaments. Besides, oftentimes this sex is lifted up, to the noblest virtues; yea, many times the most honourable virtues are more conspicuous and eminent in women, then in men 
The greeks did fear Pentheseleas hand,  
The walls of Carthage did a Woman build:  
And Babylon her hundred gates that proud do stand  
Wear by a woman with that honour filled  Besides, as the examples of women are more rare, then of men; so they are more glorious and more powerful in respect of valour. Have not those times often fallen out, wherein the common wealth by the hand of women, from a headlong danger, hath been set in safety? peruse the ancient histories, there is nothing so common as the great minds of women; by whom decaying armies have been strengthened, and the wars ended; sometimes by opposing their breasts, & sometimes by interposing their prayers, examples of valiant acts made unto posterity, not only of modesty, and chastity, but also of an undaunted spirit, and that which is far more admirable and of a certain rare and divine providence; and of those admirable answers whereunto the events have given credit and authority: These we must confess a●…e not only worthy of praise but admiration, if these things be required by the virtue of a present necessity. For although it be true that this sex is not framed for these things, yet it is not altogether abhorred from them, neither is virtue forbidden to choose out several persons; and indeed it doth so, for laying hand upon some weoman, and arresting them to obey her, thus she blameth men: What have I to do with you sluggards? I will hence forth animate the hearts of these; I will inflame their minds, arm their hands, and I will wholly fit them to deserve well of the commonwealth, that ye being sluggish, may be twice ashamed, and these awaked to honourable actions, may be more glorious. From hence we may gather, that there are not fewer seeds of virtue and valour engrafted in women, than in men, and both of them (under the same yoke) must draw to the common good. Although to men usually belong public affairs, & to women private, & as those require strength so these require diligence. And besides, the time will often fall out, when both these are to be mixed together, as publicly and privately it shall be needful: Neither thus are the duties of both sexes confounded, but the hand that is readier and better furnished for the business in hand, whether it be of the man or the woman, ought seasonably to undertake it: Then the strength and courage of the mind shall not be hindered either by sex or weakness of body. And although these things thus happen extraordinarily, yet they are done in order, because they have God for their author: who then stirreth up manlike minds, when there is need of manlike virtues; without this warrant, it is not lawful for a woman to out pass the limits of her sex, and to usurp the duty of man; no more than for a man to put of all humanity and to be wise above God. But to return from whence I began, I say (O Woman) thou art to have fetters put on thy feet; not those wherewith that Venus Morpho was bound amongst the Lacedaemonians; but those which keep in the lasciviousness of thy mind; which restrain the immodesty both of thy words and deeds, and thy too licentious habits; then thou art to have a ring upon thy lips, not of brass, as was the custom of the Egyptian women, but a bond to keep thee in silence; for nothing is fittter for thee then humble spirits: a mean in speaking, and the wisdom in being silent. To conclude, thou art to be guirded with the girdle of holiness, that which way soever thou goest, there may breathe those sweet and divine smells of thy virtues, and whosoever seeth thee, may not see so much a woman, as acknowledge an excellent pattern of all virtue. Then when thou art such a one, there remains (for thee) honourable and great rewards of fame, honour, dignity; all which are not laid a side for men, as for the more worthy, but are communicated with you as equal.  
In the mean time, whatsoever may be given unto thee, are abundantly heaped upon thee, those are those ensigns of honour, wherewith the ancient and present wisdom doth crown thee. From hence ariseth much reverence of thee, than which no sex to sex, or humanity to humanity can perform a greater and more honourable dignity. I need not remember examples of the present time, because they proceed from those ancient; what is more known than those Roman laws, and laws like the Romans? We know the Matrons were not to rise up to the Magistrate, lest they should chance to hurt them, or to use them evil being with child; nor that their husbands going in Coaches with them should come down: others not less than these, that men should give way to women that they might wear ear-rings, and other differences of head-tires, that they may use purple and gold clothes, that they may be carried through the streets: all which things are given to women, either for a reward or a benefit: as GOD himself teacheth in the 16, Chapter of Ezechiell. I clothed thee also with fine broidered work, and shod thee with badgers skins, and girded thee about with fine linen, and covered thee with silk; I decked thee also with ornamen; and I put bracelets upon thy hands: and a chain upon thy neck: and I put a frontlet upon thy face, and ear-rings in thy ears, and a beautiful crown upon thy head: Thus wert thou decked with gold and silver, and thy raiment was of fine linen and silk: for these and greater than these, men bestow upon women, arguments of their love, and special affection, that it may be understood, that no sex is either better or worse than other, but modestly and lovingly to agree betwixt themselves; nor that women is not the second, but another ornament of humanity: both must strive in this, which may be more worthy of reverence, which love one another better: Therefore (O women) repress thy unsatisfied and ambitious desires, and as one furnished with all excellent ornaments, at length learn to worship God, and acknowledge his benefits, lay aside all complaints, suppress thy foolish speeches, put upon thee a thankful mind, if thou wilt needs complain, complain of thyself, that being betrothed (as it were) with so many benefits of God, yet thou withdrawest thyself as unthankful and unmindful of thy duty: remove this infamy, blot out this stain, and place in steed thereof, an ingenious and thankful mind liked of him, whom to please, is eternal happiness.   

The number of unthankful persons, none more increaseth than he that is of man's estate, as appeareth by his unthankful, and complaining speech in complaining of the world. CHAP. 24.  
I do not marvel that a child, and a woman, should be found unthankful; when men that are of ripe years are infected with this poison, who is there that modestly beareth the benefits bestowed upon him? who is there that understandeth, what and how great that is which he hath received? who is there that by this means is brought to the knowledge of that divine goodness? Or rather doth not the greatness and plenty of this bring a loathing, and from a loathing do we not go directly to a forgetfulness, and from forgetfulness to contempt, and then having sailed thus far, we are dashed against the rock of unthankfulness: what canst thou almost see here but a deformed and a disfigured shape of things? I see this man overloaden with his riches: that man with his followers, with his authority, with his power; another to abuse the gifts, the excellent gifts of his wit; another to grow insolent by reason of favour; another to become intolerable with the fortunate course of honour, and the happy success of his favours, and how great any man is in these things, so much he swelleth, hopeth, dareth, and how much he wanteth of these, so much he is dismayed, cast down, depressed, scarce any man acknowledgeth that his increase and growth is from the divine shower, and heavenly dew.  
There is scarce any man who (in the midst of God's benefits) doth not carefully vex himself, or desirously inflame himself, or foolishly and idly doth not blind, and besotte himself? All of us are carried which way blind desire, or a crooked disposition, or unthankful mind leads us, nay, we think it not sufficient to mad in this manner, but further we seek to warrant it with reason; & whilst we profess the study & desire of goodness, we show how much ill & unthankfulness proceedeth from us. And in the boasting of virtues, it is apparent with how many and how great vices, we are compassed: Oh saith every man I would to God I had been borne in that golden world void of sins, & fruitful in all virtues: Oh, what joy it had been to have lived then, when men willingly, & of their own accord embrace honesty. 
That fair age our fathers saw,  
When craft removed, virtue did show:  
But now,  
The stream of sin on us their seed doth fall,  
We live oppressed with pride, and vice his thrall.   
Whatsoever was good either in things, or time, it is vanished long since, the dregs only and that which is left in the bottom, are reserved for these days: for it plainly appeareth: 
That all things waste and on that rock do perish  
Which time thus wearied can no longer cherish.   
We now love our vices, no less than they did then reverence their virtues: Now it is scarce lawful for any man to be good: wickedness possesseth all rooms: honesty is every where despised, and virtue scorned, and the better any man is, the more basely & worse he is esteemed.  
This showeth that there is nothing more corrupt than the manners of these times: yet with these are we compelled to live; we that desire all things might be well, and who (against our wills) are drawn to allow those things which we dislike. From hence, from those ancient times proceed the precepts of wisdom, and profitable examples, and from these days, these present corrupt manners, which differ far from them: thus are we carried as it were with a stream or a whirlwind. Oh that I might live in some obscure corner, and there pass my time, with such as are like myself, with our own mannners, and at our own pleasure. Oh, what piety then, how much holine●… and honesty would I then show? How would I follow all other virtues? How should I wholly then be inflamed to allow those things which my teachers (when I was a child) did put into me, and which I red out of grave authors? Oh, happy antiquity which knew the best things and followeth them. But in these days and in these places who can? If I be unlike to other men what a sport & derision they make of it? How presently do all men say, what an incurable brain hath he? For wisdom is nothing but to think as the most think. If I had been borne in a free state, these things should not go thus. I would wholly have endeavoured myself to reform public manners; I would have been to all others a forcible extorter to these things, and as it becometh a free and valiant man, being author of a free and a true opinion, I fear not to find assistance, thus, more of us would apply ourselves unto it, & I doubt not, but we should bring to pass that the best things should prevail: amongst free men, we would deal with liberty and express our minds with free terms. For where a free state is, there is true virtue and ingenious manners. But here where men are governed, some one or other prescribe conditions to all the rest: The multitude follow in heaps which way any go before them, without choice, without care of any goodness, Without any difference or respect of true or false. Thus by degrees we become such (as we when it is too late) wonder at ourselves to see how we have lost all freedom and ingenious simplicity. But although these things might in some sort be borne with, yet, what way shall I say cometh it to pass, that as many countries as there be, so many differences there are, not only of language, and manners, but of rites, and religions? So that a man may despair that in our time there shall ever be an agreement; For what cause of evil shall I say men are set thus at discord? In this difference there is no man that taketh not himself to be very godly, There is no man that doth not either pity, deride, or hate any other that treadeth a course contrary to his own; thou canst scarce go out of doors, but thou shalt light upon some one which shuneth thy speech and company as a thing most odious; why, thinkest thou? because thou followest those rites which he abhorreth: For what thou accountest holy, that he esteemeth profane and wicked, Every man thinketh what he list of GOD of his Worship, of all things that belong unto it. Every man wandereth what way he pleaseth; scarce any man pitying him, warning him, or staying him.  
And this is the general disposition of men at this day; what wilt thou choose? which way wilt thou go? what part wilt thou take in these distractions? some being violent, others being drowsy, all disagreeing: My wish is religious, but silent: and of no force. For where should I cast anchor in these storms? which way should I go to seek the truth? which amongst all these is but one. I desire to have all these clouds dispersed, and directly to go to that divine brightness, but I cannot do it. I find all ways so beset with darkness, thorns, and infinite lets. Therefore I must lie secret and speak low, and fold up my hands and look up and expect what good, time will bring with it. In the mean time, I must repress my time which is no way favoured; I must cherish my sloth and sluggishness; and this is indeed to be wise, and to know the time. Neither is it too safe to know what is to be followed as what is to be eschewed. To conclude, in this my condition is the harder, that I understand those things from which I am kept, and being borne to excellent things, yet I must follow the worst: Besides, I have chosen that course of life, than which there could if not more honest, yet none be more unpleasant; or more unprofitable. It is an excellent thing to be brought up in learning, to be instructed in arts and sciences; to know the civil laws, to be chosen amongst those that have authority and judges, to be ever conversant amongst the best. But none of all these can be praised but with much exception: For if they be compared with other courses of life, they make fair shows; but there is little substance in them. Who seeth not that all these courses of learning are full of care, labour, and that a kind of life ariseth from hence, illiberally, unpleasant, unsecure? In one word, we are subject to the authority of our superiors, and likewise to the speeches of the vulgar.  
These will call thee a subtle and a crafty fellow, & one that what way soever thou goest will deceive; of the multitude thou are rather feared then reverenced or loved, these will take heed of thy courses, these care not what thou thinkest. But how much thou canst and art able, so much only they fear. I omit that the times do often fall out, wherein we live despised whilst gowns must, and do suffer the disgrace and the wrongs of arms, what? in these tumults we endure wrongs of those, who in peace durst not come into our presence without blushing, fear, and danger, well it is much better to be one of the common sort, then to suffer those indignities, that are incident to this calling, neither am I ignorant that we seem happy in the eyes of many as they seem to us. I know no man is content with his lot, this is the infelicity of men. But what wouldst thou do? We must bear our evil fortune and every man his own. Well, all things considered, there is nothing more miserable, than this life, which either amongst thankful or unthankful must be spent.   

All the former reasons which concern man's estate are confuted and he is seriously admonished, to be thankful; and to acknowledge God's benefits, CHAP. 26.  
IN the very entrance to this speech: I do observe thee to be a glorious boaster of thy virtue, and withal a disdainful esteemer of those things, which God hath wisely done; which things (thou being more wise and more provident than God) desirest might be otherwise. Thus it is manifest how light thou art; how disdainful and how proud; in one word, thou art unthankful, because those things are not built upon any foundation of truth, which are the ground of these words, of these words which are nothing but wicked thoughts, forged complaints against God, for thou that speakest these things, wouldst seem exceedingly honest and religious; and thy whole labour is in this, that thou mayst rather seem then be so. Neither art thou ashamed to sorrow that thou wert borne in this age and not long since: and in some other place. Thus the common soldier speaketh evil of the Centurion, the Centurion of the Tribune; the Tribune of the Lieutenant; or the Emperor; that he is placed in this station and not in that, as though it were in thy power to determine and dispose of thyself, and not in his, under whose subjection thou art; who notwithstanding dost not consider (being hindered with an inward blindness) how irreligious thou art, for thou canst not desire an other country, nor repent thee of thine own estate, and condition, but thou must first loathe and hate thy own mark then from the beginning what assurance thou hast given of a preposterous and alienated mind.  
I would to God thou couldst learn that all virtues of a Soldier consist only in obedience. Obedience is to dare to do nothing but at his command at whose cost thou fightest.  
This is the law, the religion, the reverence of of the oath; this is the whole ornament of military discipline; the strength and majesty of the whole government is built upon this virtue; the soldier having put off obedience is hurtful and rebellious, not to he corrected with the rod of this Captain, but to be beaten with his truncheon or put to death, as a stain and blemish to the whole army. Take thou heed that thou be not of this infamous mark, whilst thou complainest that thou wert not sent unto thy standing, in the first, or second, but in the third or fourth watch, thou wishest (thou sayest) that thou hadst been borne in that (which they call) the golden World barren of vice and fruitful in all virtue: thus (as thou speakest) thou wishest thyself that thou hadst never been borne, because no monuments of antiquity to be credited that ever I read in, taught what time there was such an age. Poets and such idle heads might devise these things, fair in show, and pleasant to be heard, and feign that virtue was taken out of sight that men might be less ashamed, and acquit themselves if they followed not those virtues, whereof this age is said to be unfruitful: But for my own part (as I do remember) (when I have run over all that ever I either read or heard) I cannot determine the space of that excellent world, when it was, wherein virtues reigned not mingled with any vice, the Poet abuseth men's credulity, when he saith. The Latins 
The World of Saturn ruled with unjust laws  
Unlike the ancient God and times before  the same in other words 
First was that golden age, when men without all law  
Did just and right unfeard and unkept in awe,  
Punishment and fear were banished both,  
All lives were free from danger,  
Men lawless were, and yet were safe,  
None feared the judges anger.  This I am sure of, that in man are engrafted the seeds of virtue and vice; and that vices do their grow luxuriously, where virtue is untilled; and chose, where virtue is seriously and painfully tilled, there vices are kept under, worn away, and extinguished. Therefore all ages have been laid open to virtue and vice; there was never any which brought not forth good men, never any that brought not forth bad; nay at all times and in all places there was ever greater plenty of evil, then of virtuous and good men. Let us not idly therefore please our ears, with false and empty things; for those times which we call the old World, that is furthest removed from this present, even in those times the hatred of brethren extended unto death; the father was driven out of his kingdom by his son; the Giants foolishly made war with the gods.  
To conclude, many other things were committed of those ancient and first men, which fain themselves to be born of heaven & earth; by which it appeareth how far this opinion of the amiable simplicity, and reverend innocency of those times differeth from truth, for surely what praises soever mortal things had, these were not proper to those or to these times, but to those or to these men; neither was there ever any time which in some fort evil men have not stained, and which good men have not honoured. For the praises & reproach of the times are from hence, that virtue or vice are more followed. For it delighteth men eminent in virtue to live so long, as they may be either privately or publicly profitable. Therefore that time, wherein they chance to live, they embrace as that station appointed to them, wherein they must stand & watch, from whence they must encounter those enemies to this mortality; where likewise they must show their virtue, from whence they must never depart, until this battle be fought, and the victory obtained; therefore the world is an indifferent place, wherein all things are indifferent to him that placeth his strength in virtue, therefore thou dost ridiculously lay that fault upon the time, which is thy own: Awake thyself, whosoever thou art that outwardly art so fine and in show so pure; strait way thou wilt be ashamed of thy inward deformity, Thou shalt see how that in thy manners, there is nothing pure and sincere; how all things are counterfeit, stain, and polluted, and withal thou shalt understand, what a trister thou art, in that thou extollest with praise and admiration that ancient sincerity, and innocency, from which thou art far●…e distant and it is no marvel, seeing thou dost not labour to attain unto it: thinking it only virtue enough to profess it with thy tongue, and not to express it in thy manners, surely seeing there are not stronger motives to virtue then examples, if we might wish, we ought rather to wish to be borne late, then in these first times, and rather to look at all those times that have been before us, then to be looked at by those that come after: it is much safer to be taught by the examples of others, then to have none whom thou mayst imitate and follow. Doubtless that learning is more true and certain, which experience hath brought forth, and collected out of many examples: Dost thou admit and allow my counsel? Then take away all those curtains drawn before the truth, accuse not the world and the time, that is all men besides thyself, rather look into the thing, and diligently examine thy own vices, and if thou observe thyself thoroughly, thou wilt confess that thou art one of the multitude better than none of the rest, and perhaps (which is like) worse than a great number, and to say plainly thou that art so great a talker of virtue, that is so great a trifler, what hast thou yet furthered the common good, whereby either the stains of this age may be wiped out, or the praise of it increased. I see thou art but a man's shadow, one of a quick tongue, but of a slow mind, disputing many things, but doing nothing, for the common good; unless peradventure thou thinkest this same unquiet and talkative idleness, in which thou makest a show of virtue, to be something. If all men thus should think it sufficient to commend the times past, and no way to further the advancement of the present, should not the commendation of this age lie buried and forgotten? Thou sayst, thou art compelled to allow things not to be allowed. What wicked humour doth thus possess thee, that so foully thou dissemblest? that if thou seest any thing to be done otherwise then well, thou must needs be a furtherer of that, a commender of it either in deed, word, gesture, allowance consent or silence? Why dost thou not rather make known to the commonwealth, that there is so much honesty in thee, that no dishonesty whatsoever can overthrow it? It is not virtue that which will bend so soon, and yield to vice; or lurk near it. Virtue it is either not at all, or wheresoever it is, it is in a high place, if in those places where thou art there be none, show thy own virtue: If there be any, strive that thy own may be more eminent and conspicious. To conclude, laying aside this same sluggish and unprofitable wisdom, which thou professest, be a powerful example of true virtue; if not to many, to a few, to thyself alone, lest that any man seeing thee exclaim: O smith thou forgest arms for one that is full of sloth: as those that were before, gave much light unto thee, so hold thou out some light of this divinity to those that come after. In this, never regard what the vulgar sort either alloweth or disalloweth, but only what becometh thyself; what any grave and wise man may worthily think of thee. Imitate not public and usual manners (no not the ancient in this respect only as they are ancient) but out of both choose that which is best, thus the age wherein thou livest shall be to thee ancient, or if any thing can be thought more holy and more pure, than those times that are more ancient, never stand upon other men, other times, or countries.  
So make account that wheresoever thou art, there virtue may make her seat. What place soever the Sun looketh upon, is fit for this Lady, Sovereign of things: who is so far from being tied unto any place, that she chooseth out sometimes a hollow age eaten rock as Lucretius calleth it, to be her native Country: she often preferreth cottages and low shelters before marble walls, and sumptuous buildings, and corpse garments before purple; wheresoever vertueis, it is falsely termed to be a corner, it is a place eminent, and of much celebrity: and if thou hast given thy name to virtue, think not that thou canst lurk in an obscure corner. He can never be●… hid whom virtue bewrayeth: For wheresoever thou art, there virtue shall accompany thee: Thou shalt give honour and nobility to that place: there thou shalt live in the eyes and the mouths of all: neither do I reprove thee that thou art a commender and an admirour of ancient honest sincerity; this only I reprove in thee, that thou art a commenderonly, and not a follower, whereas by this means alone thou mayst gain that commendation which thou expectest, which were a thing much better, than thus as thou dost with ancient and glorious names, to cover thy own stains, and with those evils whereof thou thyself art guilty, to accuse and burden the time (a thing most innocent): thou wilt also be known how careful & circumspect thou art, whilst thou diligently takest heed, least men should follow thee with stones like one distracted, if thou shouldest be seen divers from others: Indeed I require nothing less of thee then that thou shouldest be divers from the multitude: But I require that thou shouldest be better; not that thou shouldest be observed in an unusual habitte, and a singularity of life, as a contemnor of others, but that in holiness and unaffected manners; thou shouldest exceed others.  
Thus be as an ancient example to be looked at; by this every man shall esteem what and how great thou art, by thee every man shall be stirred up to chastity and innocency: and as it is a proud and intolerable thing so to deal, as though thou only, or above the rest wouldst be accounted wise; so there is nothing so foolish, as that understanding that exceedeth not the capacity of the Common multitude; but doubtless, that wisdom hath all the perfections of wisdom in it, which understandeth & followeth nothing, but that which is right; whether they be allowed or disallowed of the common people. Furthermore not content to detract from those times, thou also complainest that thou art borne in a monarchy under government, as though any man hath liberty, or bondage from any other but from his own mind: be thou thy own, not a slave of thy affections: stand firm amongst all the darkness of vice: moderate thy senses: take thy mind into thy own power: then thou perfectly shalt see thyself in the bosom of liberty: though borne under the Persian servitude. Besides, thou wouldst have it known what a great man, thou wouldst have been, if thou hadst been borne under a free state. I know there thou wouldst have set up a shop of virtue; thou wouldst have corrected things that are amiss: that people should have had thee an excellent reformer of manners: this indeed were credible; if in that place where thou art, thou hadst given any token of it: if thou haddest made clean thy own manners: if thou haddest excelled and gone before others in true and virtuous examples, not in a glorious speech, but thou (whilst thou admonishest others) differrest all to other times, and other places, as though time and place had rule over virtue.  
What? darest thou say, that thou wouldst prescribe manners to others, which hast either none thyself or uncertain, unordered or very evil? Wilt thou show the way to others which knowest it not thyself? Dost thou think that thou art privately discharged, because thou promisest that thou wilt publicly do it? But I am afraid that amongst thy familiars, with whom thou mayst do much, thou art scarce a powerful example of virtue, if thy inward life do not first answer to these glorious admonitions: this (believe me) is the most compendious way of informing thy own manners to honesty, and reforming the vices of others.  
Here, if thou beginnest, there from thee virtue shall be derived unto thy neighbours; from thence into thy whole kingdom: and so into foreign and strange Countries. Why dost thou suffer a thing so profitable, and of every good man so much wished and desired, and looked for: so long to be expected and desired of thee? Go no further, expect not any solitary, or privatte place, there were thou art, give unto thyself, give unto those, that are about thee, give unto all, an undoubted experminent what thou wouldst do if thou hadst been borne there, where thou mightest have had authority, and been a great man, and had much power over the minds of other, give assurance, that if thou hadst place, nothing else were wanting to thee, it is in thy power to perform that: and what there, would be authority, here shallbe example, and yet it is true that in good examples their is much authority.  
Do not think that any place giveth liberty to manners. I do not see if thou wert one of the great states in a free Commonwealth, how thou couldst more profit thy Country then now, when thou art borne under government: and in no great favour, unless peradventure thou art of that opinion, that there is more virtue and generous honesty, engrafted in those that are borne in a free state, then under a Prince like government. If thou think thus, thou thinkest evil; and with all accountest nature to be a stepmother, not a mother, nor endued with a kind of motherly affection. For surely, Necessity invented all forms of commonwealths; being invented, Reason hath disposed them; and Time and Experience hath confirmed them: there are places, where public consent require laws; other places, where they stand in need of Kings and sovereignty: and amongst these the excellency of a Kinglike authority is no less glorious, then amongst those the sweetness of liberty. Doubtless, to both there is no other thing propounded then public security, which consisteth in this that every man have his own, and that chiefly in all plases there be a rule of equality.  
For the establishing of this security there is need every way of much concord of the Citizens; to this concord, men that are willing are driven by themselves, and by a natural instinct of goodness; those that are unwilling are compelled by the laws, and all the guard and strength that laws have; he whom the condition of birth hath brought under a free state is a debtor to his virtue, and a subject to that. He that is borne under a King, it is fit for him whatsoever he hath, he employ it to the obedience of his Prince; from both ariseth the commendation of a good Citizen, to inquire which place is nearer and more open to virtue, it is rather a matter of curiosity than profit, and not for this purpose.  
And all this I have said to this end that it may appear, that in every form of a Common wealth, there is some one mark of virtue, whereunto men must run in all courses. It is ready and easy to every man, every where to learn manners; If from those that are virtuous, he shall be furnished with virtuous qualities, if from the multitude, he shall be furnished with manners variable, and impure. This also doth much trouble thee, that thou sayest that in these days there is no where any certainty of religion and holy worship, that wheresoever thou lookest, men go astray and er: nor that the ways & true paths of religion are so much opened as the entrances to all impiety. From hence all  
Right and wrong are turned, and wars do still increase And face of sins in many shapes.  
For at this day there is nothing which is so fruitful a ground of all public calamities as this variety of religion. From hence are the ruins and falls of whole kingdoms; the workers and contrivers whereof appeareth to be a number of uncertain, unconstant men, which swarm in all places, desirous not only of novelty, but of the overthrow of states; by whose disputations and subtlety, the truth long since hath been spoken, not perfected; For these do rend the common wealth in sunder with an itch of contention, and a desire of overcoming without care of learning. With much impudence and sloth in their evil contentions of the greatest things; to whom as it plainly appeareth their most wicked fruit is, to speak great things of God, and yet never to reverence him nor to think there is any; much less to fear him as the just punisher of such offences. From hence it cometh that they scarce forbear from impiety, No not in those things which ought to be sacred and most solemn. For what else mean these contentions, from disputations, tumults; from tumults, wars growing from wars, one trouble and uproar from another. I do not only sorrow for these but mourn them. For I confess in these kinds there have more errors sprung up within this hundred years then can be cured either with Admonition, Authority, or Reason. But what are all these to thee? If thou hast learned in thy childhood; if in thy youth thou hast been nourished; if in thy man's estate those things were confirmed in thee, wherein thy safety and the virtuous duties of thy life are contained? Can any storms draw thee to a contrary course? Can the levity of others or their craft mingled with fury, be strong enough, to shake thy constancy and to trouble thy quiet resolution? Nay, rather the more the vulgar with the inconstant motions of their mind and every tempest float up and down, the more show thou, that thou canst not be moved. What? Dost thou turn about at every noise? Is it not a shame that in a matter of such moment, strength and constancy should be wanting in thee. Therefore stand and remain immovable: 
Even as the Rock in midst of sea doth stand  
Unmoved, when waves most furiously do toss:  
And like those stones fast fixed as the land,  
Whilst silly reeds are shaken to the less:  Why dost thou desire to see how here every man delighteth to doubt, to float, to perish? either thou art rightly entered into this true way & in good time, or from thy infancy thou art of no value? If this be so, do not I lose my labour, which do thus reason with thee? If otherwise, from whence is this inconstancy of thy disposition? Why dost thou not go on as thou hast begun? Those precepts of piety that are engrafted in thee, take heed that thou be not a forsaker of them. Do not so much as doubt. For whosoever so doubteth that he never compose and stay his wavering mind, he is wholly drawn in pieces, with variety of opinions. Surely such a one either erreth or is next unto one that erreth, and thus erring, next unto him that perisheth. Therefore with this foul inconstancy overturn not thy bringing up, Be not willing to be esteemed for thy idle wish, but heap thy holy wishes with study and true Piety, which to man as the Poet speaketh is safest virtue. I say true piety, because I do warn thee to take heed of the counterfeit piety of these days, which professeth a solitary wandering knowledge of God, without any fruit at all, whilst it seeketh to know all things lawful and unlawful of God, Open or secret, and with a subtle mouth skilfully argueth those things which their evil minds deride and scorn.  
Thus far are these sorts of men from worshipping of God: sincerely & rightly ordering of human duties, for it becometh men never to be more modest, then when they have to deal with God; to be most holy, and most reverent in those things that belong to religion, rather to profess an humble simpli city of believing, then to boast of a sharpness of piercing into his secrets, and knowing of his glory.  
In other things I commend thy confidence, but in this thy fear. Surely in the very entrance of that sacred power & unsearchable majesty, there is a brightness and glory that opposeth itself against every curious searcher, and blindeth both the eyes and the mind of him that pryeth with over much boldness, against this usual rashness at this day, or any such that is like unto it, set locks upon thy ears; for it is not piety but a counterfeit impiety, which leadeth men into errors; to which that old saying may be truly spoken 
Which way thou please run slily, play the Fox,  Exact that true and severe piety of thyself, which is scarce found in conference and concourse of multitudes; seldom is clothed in precious garments, seldom walketh into the streets, scarce is seen in public, but dwelleth in a true and honest breast and from thence is dispersed into his mouth and hands; thus being affected, thou shalt never be drowned in the waves of false opinions; no tempest of error shall cast thee down; 
The Sea shall smile  
And mildest Heavens  
shall calmly smile on thee:  From these things, which thou mislikest in the common wealth, thou comest to thy own private condition, and art angry with that. Canst thou endure to hear the truth? Thou art full of disdain, this maketh thee so nice and froward; what wouldst thou say if thou wert sent into the Country, where thou must hold the plough and harden thyself with toiling labour; to get that thou mightest eat? What if thou wert set to some handicraft, where thou mightest possess no more than thou couldst earn with thy daily labour? What if professing the life of a soldier, thou shouldest have thy body hurt and maimed that thou couldst scarce move it? What if thou shouldest enter any course of life harder and more unprofitable than these? What monsters of words couldst thou then utter? with how many complaints wouldst thou fill the skies? with how many wicked speeches, wouldst thou then provoke that divine goodness? who being so well dealt with all, yet darest complain of God, who hath compassed thee about with so many honest favours. But as it seems, thou art wise, thou art learned, thou art circumspect, yet for all this thou art not ashamed to stick in those shallows of ignorance, where every unskilful man perisheth.  
Why dost thou not rather use that learned oa●…e to sail over these dangerous places? from whence if thou dost not speedily escape, thou shalt be like unto one that hath suffered shipwreck. If thou professest thyself a lawyer, and an observer of equity, if thou wilt be esteemed as the defence of the people and the Oracle of the City ●…ye (light and inconstant man that thou art) why hast thou not first before others supported and strengthened thyself with wholesome Council? If thou wouldst at least consult with thyself, and from thyself evil affected, appeal to thyself without perturbation or passion, thou wouldst be indifferent to thy Noble and excellent condition, and that which is the chief of all take in good part, what thou art; wipe away those stains familiar and usually to this kind of men; give faithful council to him that asketh; cut off strifes, abstain from oppression and exhortation: If thou art a judge, judge religiously, and fear GOD the great judge, and then be assured thou shalt not be subject to the suspicions of the good nor to any evil speeches, unless peradventure of those that are most evil. Thus assure thyself thou shalt be worshipful to the best, to the meanest, to all, in all places thou shalt be esteemed honest, amongst men, and acceptable to God.  
Besides if the Commonwealth be troubled, if men betake themselves to their armour, than thou complainest that civil professions are despised, that learning is contemned, and also that thou liest open and unhidden to the outrages and disorders of all men, as though thus every honest and innocent disposition is not best seen in his adversities: If thou art wicked, this is a scourge to beat thee: If thou art good think that a hand is reached out to thee that thou be not idle, or forgetful, but watchful, lest thou catch a grievous and a deadly fall. Well howsoever it is, consider whether thou haste not in the time of peace, abused thy skill and knowledge to the hurt of men and not to defend them. Doth not worthily (than which nothing can be more just) thy own example fall upon thy own head? These cogitations will drive out of thy mind all that unjust complaint which thou makest against God: Surely displeased with thy own vices thou shouldest first severely blame thyself before thou accusest any other.  
Last of all, whosoever thou art learned or unlearned, whether one of the states or a common person, whether thou art a leader, or an ordinary soldier, whether thou art rich or poor, of what sort soever thou art (for it were infinite to reckon up all) therefore I speak unto all that every man may take it spoken to himself. Thou that hast passed the flower of thy age; thou art he with whom my speech is at this time; if thou usest not thy strength & health to some good purpose; if before the powers of thy body and mind fail thee, thou use them not for the true defences of thy soul, and do not enrich thyself with true riches, thou in the old age wilt in vain desire those things wherein thou oughtest to be instructed. Now it were fit to arm thyself with wisdom, and true valour: sad and loathsome old age overtaketh men that are inconsiderate and unprepared: In time to come thou wilt be able to do nothing but trifles, the mind will wax old in a decayed body. Thou shalt be unfit for any thing; and death at last unawares shall overtake thee, subject to many scoffs and dangers, and in vain looking about for help, which (when thou mightest) thou didst not provide unto thyself. Therefore free thyself from these delays, lest thy sluggishness bring thee into those dangers, from whence thou canst not deliver thyself, without much peril. Repentance at the last years is late. We look for means of life then late, when we are in the last part of it; when our burdens are to be packed up: nay, to be laid aside. O lamentable condition of that man, who by his inconsideratnes is brought to that, which is the beginning of eternal misery; and he that cometh to that, I confess his life so much the more hateful in that it is ended most unfortunately. Thou whosoever thou art ascribe thy own evil to thyself, who abusest thy own good; thy life unknowing is lent unto thee, not short but long, and heaped with many, and great benefits of God; and thou man the ungratfullest of all men, spendest the same in error, and vanity; thou consumest all thy time in frozen and foolish trifles. Dost thou suffer this so great a benefit by thy negligence to pass from thee without profit, and art not ashamed to upbraid God with the smalenes of the benefit, believe me, thou wholly dependest upon a small thread: thou mayst immediately be cast headlong down into a perpetual 〈◊〉 of misery: if thou dost not speedily lay hand upon those means with which being supported, thou mayst attain to that felicity, to which thou wert created, thou oughtest to contemn all other things, and to desire this one thing and not to desire it as one Ill, slothful, and weak, but as one strong diligent, & intent to to his greatest happiness.   

Amongst unthankful persons I account the old man, whom neither the plenty nor the greatness of God's benefits, nor any wisdom gathered out of long experience can reclaim from this unthankfulness. CHAP. 26.  
C Considering the dispositions of men & viewing the corruptness of them (as it lieth open) as also their cunning (as they foolishly think) wherewith all mortality seeketh to cover itself, that it may not as it is so appear unto God; to conclude, thinking with myself, how many ways every man delighteth to wrong that sacred power, which he should reverence, madding against his wisdom and rising with complaints against that great power: I begin to tremble, I say a horror possesseth me, when I take but a view of the sharp of this fowl & deformed vice; I see nothing but a heap of unthankful persons, amongst whom most notable is he whom it least becometh.  
The old man; I am moved at none more than at him, who ought to have learned by that great benefit of long age, how he only more than all other men of all ages, is not only loaden with benefits, but almost oppressed, whom the satiety of living aught to have cleansed from this dross: whom the long use of the goodness of God should have brought to that equity of mind which is requisite for one, that is ready to leave the earth; yet, I see him more froward and more afflicted with this humour of discontent, than any other. Thus the shaken age outgoeth the most part of mortal men, and having lived a long time, is not for all this, more skilful in this journey, nay, oftentimes is more unprepared and more stained. In one word, these seem to have gathered up out of every corner, and carefully to have heaped together the several vice●… of all ages, and to have laid open the blemishes and spots that are in all; and from all this to have framed this monster, whose name is an unthankful mind. For he doth not complain of this, or that evil, as those whom I have reckoned before, but of all things, as altogether. There is none so weak, none so shamlesly furnished to this offence, none thinketh more impurely, none speaketh evil of GOD more proudly, none turneth his head more boldly against his maker; there is no where, where all the faces of this monster are discovered better, than here; which are as many as the corruptions that lie hid in man, wherewith he with long living is most infected, which way soever this old man layeth open himself, he is weak; forgetful, arrogant, unthankful; he sinneth not as others of ignorance, of folly, of infirmity; inwardly and outwardly he sinneth: he, is wholly wicked, in word, in deed, in thought: to conclude, what can you think of him, who for this dare not complain that he is, and that his life is given unto him. For what (saith he) is my life given unto this end that in my life there may be nothing which is worthy to be called a life? For what should I remember the miseries which I had from my infancy, where of I cannot tell whether the sense or the memory be more grievous unto me, had I ever in all my life any honey, but it was mixed with much gall? Had I ever any joy that was not ended with sorrow? Any happiness that was not recounted with some evil success? Any hope whereto despair was not a companion? in one word, what is all that I have spoken, that I have done; that I have hoped, that I have gotten, but the matter of sorrow, and repentance? To conclude, what shall I say, that I either am or have been, but a perpetual motion? But a living creature, laid open to every violence? My life was spent in learning of these miseries, & living long with these, I am hardened. 
In what great dark and danger have I lived  
Where day and night did witness how I grieved.   
Oh how truly is it spoken, by a man of much experience, whose mind in the constancy of death confirmed many & very wise precepts, none would accept of life if it were not given them without their knowledge: what is our Infancy but a dullness & an uncertain state, betwixt life and death? more truly the likeness of death or rather indeed a death begun and a funeral mixed to our swaddling clothes? What is our childish estate but the show and the beginning of misery, or rather a glass wherein a man may see all the miseries which are to come? What our youth but a vading flower, growing to a better fruit? For than we are green that we may now wither, than we flourish that we may now wax old; what is our lusty years sonething riper than our youth, but a foolish fierceness troublesome to others and hurtful to itself? What is our man's estate, but an authorized imperious madness, Whilst, it is reason's ape? What is this last age, the weariness whereof I feel to be laid upon me, but an overflowing of all pains, griefs, miseries? What is this which we call to live, but a fearful and a continual expectation of death? yet I know these things are hardly persuaded to young men: I know that the minds of most are holden in this common error, and bound as it were fast with this chain (which is a love of life) as of that good which containeth all good things in it.  
Surely let the child see before him the merry & pleasant flower of youth; youth the strong, courageous and manly age: this also let it have some comfort left in the approaching old age: but then to this last what else is propounded but death? For man that is full of years as I am, what is he but as they say a picture painted on the wall, or the name of a shadow of that he was? And to conclude, the pray of death? What further can he do or hope whose soul is ever going out of his mouth? What am I fit for, who am unmeet for the lightest cares? whose strength of body is weak? The age of ability and power past? Senses dull, and the liveliness of the mind weakened? In one word, to whom all things with my body are withered?  
Life then deserveth that name, when it bringeth to a man some joy or pleasure: but if it bring nothing with it which is not unsweet, unpleasant, bitter, if it be ever driven against the rocks of all evil, away with this name of life, which is more glorious than true; I know not others, but for myself, I am sure, of all that ever I did hear, or see, there is nothing likes me; and as hope doth more and more freeze in me, so all pleasure decayeth; whereof this worn and decayed body of mine is uncapable. I have no help in my kindred, for all slip from me by little and little, and sh●…nne my company, as an odious and troublesome old man; unless peradventure deceitfully they hang upon me to be made the richer by my death: My friends have little hope in me, to whom I seem not a man but a ghost. 
Like as the ivy kills the folded tree,  
So with the embrace of years death killeth me.  
Like to the earth from whence I came  
Of man I hold only the name:   
My familiarity is pleasant to none; I walk as the hate of the earth; neither am I more almost esteemed of any then a thing worn and of no value, as many men, and many things do not please me, no more do I please any. I am forbidden to meddle with any thing under a colour of honour; to which they give the name rest, and ceasing from labour, that with the mildness of the name, they may mitigate the asperity of the thing, and the grief that I take from it. In my sayings there is no authority, for all men say I am now past, and brought to a doting age; the very memory of my life past wherein there was some pleasure, daily weareth away. Of one thing I have more understanding than ever I had, namely, of this miserable estate to which I am appointed, and as it were reserved; to this age, and to this experience rising out of these miseries I am beholding for this one thing, that it hath opened my eyes and laid before me the whole army of those evils wherewith this mortality is guarded, and can neither find remedy nor means to escape them. Neither can learning (that divine invention as they call it) mitigate this grief; I have no comfort out of my learning how great soever it is; nay the more plentiful that is, the more plainly do I see rather what is not true than what is; yea, it rather brings me into the large sad fields of error, and there placeth me, from whence I may see with a large prospect, ignorance that is of kindred to our mortality; So far am I from being brought to any delights or pleasures of knowledge.  
Last of all, there remaineth piety, whereof I was ever a diligent worshipper, wherein I find no refuge. If for all this being worn with years, my last hour must come, and that fatal necessity whereunto against my: will I must obey and follow, not whether it leads me, but whether it draweth me. For in that my heap of miseries giveth me a mind to speak freely.  
From hence am I grieviously tormented in that I see myself brought unto that period of life, which is set so fast that it cannot be removed. There is nothing that doth more trouble my rest and quiet then the often thinking of the approach of death, which the more I labour to cast from me, the more and more violently it cometh to my mind, and this is that same inward and perpetual corrosive: 
This dims my life which no delight can cure,  
And leaves no joy that pleasant is or pure.  If I begin to talk with any; If I do any thing; If I walk; If I rise from sleep; continually I am encountered with the ever present memory of my near approaching death, I have ever (as that Roman king) those two gods present with me (dread and paleness).  
Now at the last, the conscience of my former life, which is full of trouble, and a torment to me, gathereth his forces and doth show itself. Sometimes a little hope doth comfort me, sometimes despair doth trouble and afflict me. Now I float as it were betwixt life and eternal death: whether is nearer I cannot easily tell: so am I an old and decayed man deluded by both. Farewell all, let it go, And that human wisdom, which is mere madness let it blind and deceive itself, let it be insolent in this same show of persuasion, for which it would be esteemed; let it delude itself in things accutely thought, eloquently spoken, in these famous monuments erected for posterity; I confess there is none of all these that I delight in, this same space that I have run of so many years, so many experiments, so many precepts of things, so many well taught learnings, they all renew the same scar of my miseries that are not yet well cured. Whatsoever the state is wherein I am, it is nothing else but a fit place to renew my evils. Amongst which I reckon this, that my mind doth waver: I know nothing but that I am ignorant of all things: Shall I speak it or hold my peace. To a traveler it is a hope, and an ease to think of the place whereunto he goeth, I, why I am, or what shall become of me, whether I shall go, what is all this wherein I am, but as a drop in the sea, or a stone upon the shore, or a spark in the fire? I am more uncertain than ever I was, happy is he that thinketh he knoweth this. Doubtless, at least he enjoyeth a sweet error, and perisheth pleasingly. Let human curiosity arrogate unto himself, applaud himself, give unto himself this honour, that he may think that he hath obtained the knowledge of that which is denied to mortality. I do not think that it is true, that he that knoweth not those things, which are before his eyes, can reach to the knowledge of those things which are hidden in the bottomless greatness of time, and the Majesty of nature.  
For if any man do consider rightly, he shall well understand that our knowledge is nothing else but to be ignorant, to err, to be deceived. To what end should I dissemble this, what should I wretch that I am flatter myself; 
For then true voice shall say how it was  
When things shall stay, and men shall pass.    

The old man is blamed for his complaint, and admonished to acknowledge God's benefits, even in that respect, that he is old and near unto his grave. CHAP 27  
Doubtless it is true, that that disease is hardly cured, which imitateth health; for because it is manifold, it can scarce beknown; because it is firmly rooted, it cannot be pulled out; because it is rebellious, it can neither be ruled nor put to silence. Of this kind (O old man) I fear me is thy disease; who inso long a life hast learned nothing but to play the fool; For there is nothing more foolish than he, who will be wise above that he is commanded; and more than is fit for one who is about to die. But thou if thou lovest thyself, suffer a few things, truly and simply, to be spoken to thee; It belongeth chiefly unto thee, that thou be awaked with this my admonition; howsoever it is: Let me lead thee a long not through all the benefits of God (which thou corruptly dost interpret, for that were infinite) but through the best and chiefest. For amongst all the complaints of men whereby they show how they are infected, with this fault of unthankfulness towards God; there is none more delicate, there is none worse, and more wicked, then that which is in thy mind, and in thy mouth. This most is from hence, that thou darest object thy reason; reason, that is the bounds betwixt God and man, the only light of the mind increased and confirmed with use of things, that thou darest (I say) oppose and object this reason against that divine providence; and after the manner of the Giants with a bold attempt, provoke thy Creator to a single combat.  
Neither dost thou consider that thou art most friendly, and as it were by the hand, led even to that place where is the end of this journey (thorny and full of brambles) which we call life; who in this chiefly repinest that it is given unto thee. To wit, the first in order, and in his bounds containing the rest of God's benefits. here thou art to consider first of all how thou art not agreeable to thyself, who complainest that thy life is given thee, the which impatiently thou lamentest to be taken from thee. Thou repinest that thou livest, that thou must die, that thou art borne, to wax old; that thou art in this state, that either perpetually (as thou sayst) thou must not be at all, or perpetually be miserable.  
From hence thou gatherest, that it had been better for thee, not to have been at all, then in that thou art, to know so much that thou mayst understand how much unhappiness it is, not to be after thou hast been. Thou fearest death not as the last destruction, calamity and extinguishing, but peradventure as the beginning of some new, and unknown evil; To conclude, so frowardly, so staggeringly, so profanely, thou thinkest of the greatest thing of all, that is of thy own salvation, that when thou art dead to think of thyself thou thinkest it belongeth not to thee. Oh how am I afraid least. 
Thy wits do haut, thy tongue, thy soul, thy mind,  
And all these fail, and at one time be blind   
First let me deal with thee by way of excursion & skirmishing, then nearer, not a far off with the spear, but at hand with the sword; last of all more strongly and with all my force: Thou sayst thou wouldst not have had life given unto thee.  
Now in the beginning, and in one word thou showest that thou knowest not what life is. For if thou didst know it, doubtless thou wouldst more considerately esteem the greatness of this benefit. Dost thou (who art so old) not understand that life is the being of man, and the seat of all those benefits which that divine goodness bestoweth upon mankind? Surely, there is the same reason of every thing that is dead, as of that which is not; for that only is said to be which liveth in that manner as the giver of life hath prescribed unto it; therefore by the help of this only benefit, thou art all that thou art: And when God hath given thee life, he hath given thee wholly as a gift unto thyself. Thou art his debtor for thy whole self, which gift by so much is greater, and more to be esteemed, in that he gave it, who was not bound unto thee, which then wert not at all. Surely it is such a benefit as thou wouldst wish it to be; that is (if it be not long of thyself) very great. From so great a giver there can come nothing but what is great; especially this, which being taken away, all the other gifts of God are not only void and frustrate, but none at all. For that thou art, it is the first of all those steps, whereby thou ascendest into the likeness of him who truly is. For surely there is nothing so unlike unto God, as not to be at all. But doubtless it is a small thing for thee to be (for that is common to thee with the rest of the creatures) unless thou be that which thou oughtest to be.  
Therefore this thy being, thy life (I say) which God hath given thee, must be employed upon some thing, espicially upon that without which i●… deserveth not to be called by the name of life. Thou sayst, upon what? Upon that one thing which may give assurance; that thou art obedient, and thankful to him that gave it: and that thou who art taken out of that immortal and divine essence, and desirestro return thither, from whence at the first thou b●…st thy being. This is of two kinds either placed in Contemplation or in Action: Contemplation respecteth God, to whom we must go. Action respecteth men, amongst whom we 〈◊〉, and with whom we go thither, that is called piety, this du●…e both conspire in one, and the self same end is propounded to both; and both are so acceptable to God that he will not be approached unto by any other way. Whatsoever belongeth not to this (that is all other occasions where with men are drawn aside) are nothing else but lette●… and delays. If thou hast bestowed the time which is passed (which thou thyself confessest to have been long) upon both, or at least upon one of these, now thou suruivest thy glory, no●…e thou beginnest to enjoy that felicity, whereunto thou hast travailed with so great and so earnest a study: If to neither, thy age ought to make thee ashamed, that in all that time thou hast at●…ained ●…o nothing; whereby thou mayst be much merrie●…, and more firmly grounded.  
For how dost thou show that thou art old; by thy years and white hair? But these are common to thee with every unhappy and unwise man. There is nothing swifter nor more violent, than the course of time. One year goeth before another; & ages speedily do pass away. There is nothing sooner heaped together, than the number of days, months, and years.  
Therefore there must be something more, whereby thou mayst prove thyself to be old, and from thence obtain the authority and reverence, which is due to old age.  
Surely as the first age of man is, such commonly is the midst, and such is the last. The middle age doth agree with the first, and the last with the middle.  
For commonly what foundation of old age is laid in our childhood; and our youth; such is every man's old age, that is built upon it. For to be old, is not to live without sense, and to grow sluggish with Idleness, but in living to be form to that likeness of God, which I mentioned before. From hence is gained the honour, authority, and Majesty of a man: These and no other are the chief ornaments of old age.  
There is nothing left unto an old man which he may call his own, but only this one thing, which he obtaineth by spending of his life purely, religiously, fitly.  
These are the richest, and the best fruits which a man last tasteth, in the last part of his life well spent. Con●…rariwise an old age, credulous, foolish, forgetful, dissolute; to conclude, sad, despised and vexed, must needs follow a former age spent carelessly, riotously, lasciviously, intemperately, covetously, and wickedly. Then surely it is not so much a name of age, as a show of extreme levity, doting madness, and the beginning, and taste of eternal misery: whosoever desireth to have this age furnished with his own virtues, and to be eminent in these ornaments; doth so frame his life, that he feareth God, and reverenceth man; doth so compose himself wholly, that when he must grow old, or die, men may accuse few things in his life, and he can excuse himself.  
If thou hast lived thus, though thy body go away with thy years, yet thy manners shall not wax old. Surely the mind shall be young with his virtues, and flourish with true praise. 
The memory of time shall not unpleasant Bee,  
Nor days well spent shall ever trouble thee.   
Thy age shall be sweet unto thee, pleasant, honourable, and contemptible to none, that truly esteemeth of this benefit, but very full of worship: but this thou takest grievously, that under show of honour (as thou sayest) thou art exempted from business: that, which when thou sayst, thou understandest not, that this whereof thou complainest, is a benefit of that age not to be contemned. What can be more wished for of an old man, then after so many storms and tempests of this life, to enter into a safe haven of rest? to give himself to quietness and to deck and furnish himself? to prepare himself to that journey, which as all men must undertake, so it is to be wished that it may be fortunate and happi●… to him? to see others floating, and himself almost at the shore of safety? There to think of nothing which is not acceptable and pleasant: to wax old in body and strong in wisdom: yet to flourish in a sound judgement and to be eminent in all virtues: to abstain from human affairs, and to be busied in divine: to be amongst men, more than a man, or rather to have put of man, and to have put on God: these are the proper and particular happiness of an age quiet, calm, wise, & purified; which as it ought to be slow to take pains in his own affairs: So this wisdom and authority are necessary for the public good, for although all things quiet and without trouble, are seemly and convenient for that age, yet in the mind of old men, there resteth a care of the public Majesty.  
Therefore none less are exempted from the government of the commonwealth: nay, that age doth challenge as proper and peculiar unto itself this care of governing of others: For very often those times do happen, wherein old men with their wisdom, and virtue have established and strengthened the common wealth, which the rashness of young men hath almost overthrown, For they think (indeed truly) that it doth no less belong unto them to take care what manner of Commonwealth they have received from their ancestors, than what they have left unto their posterities; the names and memory of some old men shall be received of all posterity as a thing (I know not how) very honourable, sacred, and divine. Camellus was four score year old, when he triumphed over the Gaulleses, and Quintus Fabius was not much less, when with his patience he weakened Hannibal. Neither was the mind of Massinissa feeble when he was eighty and eight years old, at what time befriending the Romans he gave an overthrow in a prosperous battle to the men of Carthage; Plato (that same pillar of wisdom) in writing attained to the age of fourscore & one years; Isocrates wanted not scholars, no not when he had lived ninety & eight years; but what do I go about the examples of such? old men (as are of numbersome and virtuous years) are infinite. Whose wites have been fresh, their minds sound, the strength of their senses perfect, their bodies able, themselves honourable, and their grey hairs crowned with many ornaments; and their whole bodies carrying a reverent show to increase a dignity and a majesty in them. To conclude, such as from whom age hath taken nothing but evil desires; delights of sinning and the abuse of strength and sense, whose gifts of their mind grow and increase: whom virtue hath set for all ages to look at, as certain lights, or rather sacred powers.  
Therefore, when the laws gave rest to those, which were above threescore years old, they exempted them from those actions, which could not be sustained, but with bodily strength: they imposed upon them, that care which is performed only with the strength of wisdom, for which scarce any other man is sufficient, but only he who hath his immortality almost in his sight. For whatsoever a man (so pure, so refined) speaketh or doth, he is conversant in it, as one already received into those heavenly seats, the power of judgement is not only not dulled in him, but rather sharpened: he ceaseth with his hand, not with his counsel; he seldom doth any thing, but ever commandeth. Therefore he erreth, and greatly erreth, whosoever thinketh that old age is a name of a faint, sluggish, broken, slothful, and a weakened age, and so that it is exempted from all public offices, when indeed it is rather most busy of all: most generous, most glorious: as a most excellent worker of those things, which long, which publicly, and to all, and which shall profit an infinite posterity. For thou shalt see that the rest of old men not only prescribes what ought to be the businesses of others: but also goeth before others, both in quickness of mind, and in valiant and famous acts, as the Captains and leaders of public Counsel. These properly are the exercises of that happy maturity: in these courses, chief valiant and courageous old men excel: in these they delight, and in these the mind that is nearest unto his eternity, doth run swiftly: go to then, at length give this thanks unto God, who hath brought thee to this old age, give this thanks to old age itself: which hath freed thee from those evil affections; taken thee out of that sink of pleasures: delivered thee from so many toys, so vain and importunate: and hath reserved thee to his own glory, that thou mayst will and do that only, which only thou oughtest to will, which to be able to do is honourable, and to perform, admirable: other ages must go through many difficulties: watch amidst things hurtful, and with a doubtful hazard stand amongst things that are most slippery: this age only hath power over itself: that which either ages desire to obtain, this hath gotten: to this age only are almost all the wishes of humanity applied, this alone standeth in the highest place: and dost thou sorrow that so profitably and so commendably thou art grown old, that is that thou hast acted thy age as a comedy.  
Dost thou take it evil that thou drawest near to that which is the last part of thy life? so may the traveler be sorry that he is come to his journeys end; and the husbandman to see his fields clothed with ripe Corn, and his trees loaden with ripe fruit: or lastly his vintage to be in Autumn, or the time for Olives in Winter. I demand what can be more agreeable to nature, then that that which only sprung up should whither? that is, that it should rest in his due season, when it can be no longer. Though death in other ages of man's life may seem untimely and unripe, yet in old age it is seasonable.  
Neither is it violence, but an end and a perfection, and finishing of our age: therefore to moderate old men, there is a satiety of this mortality (which we call life) no less engrafted in them then in young men a desire to live; and this satiety doth draw with it a contempt of all those things, which belong not to the true, and sound felicity of man, what a man would that happy people the Hyperborians have accounted thee to be, where the old men having a full satieti●… of life after they had feasted and banqueted with their friends cast themselves from the top of a rock and so ended their days. Thou that hast lived so long, hast thou not found by good experience, that death is not to be reckoned amongst those things that are fearful, but rather amongst those things that are to be contemned? yea to be desired; For what is it to die? Surely, nothing else but to be released out of this earthly building. O happy thou (not as those whom the world admireth for riches and honour) but as one whom the wisest account fortunate; as now having attained to the very entrance of thy happiness. Oh lay aside at length these most foolish complaints and compose thyself wholly to esteem thy felicity; admire the goodness of God, who hath brought thee to himself by these steps.   

I proceed to show unto the old man all those several benefits which God hath heaped upon him. CHAP 27  
NOw at the length, after thou hast well looked about thee, and seen all those things, wherewith man's life is compassed, doth it come into thy mind a little more nearly & carefully to survey thyself? Wholly from those things which are about thee to enter into thyself? to be affected and amazed? and then to fall low upon thy knees; to humble thy looks, to be holden carefully with a diligent meditation, to be erected in thy mind, wholly to rise up in a reverence and worship of that bounty, from which thou hast received so many, so great, so excellent things? of all which thou art a very famous example. This properly is piety; whereof lately thou madest thyself a professor; which if it were true and sincere, it might well be assaulted, but it could not be overthrown; nor cast down: by that thou shouldest be taught that thou art he whom God (though he be invisible) hath vouchsafed part of himself; neither do I think that he erreth, which calleth thee half a God; in that thou art made according to his similitude, and admitted into the fellowship of his divinity. For as thy beginning and original is from Heaven, so immortality is common to thee with thy Creator. A mind truly sincere and virtuous hopeth this; this is the confidence of those great and holy wishes; whereof being made partakers, we are engrafted into the family of God and are of his house. Man having obtained this one thing, in this excelleth all other creatures, and destitute of this, he is beneath them all. If it be an error and a madness (as some think) it is to those who are wicked, and desperate, who from hence are to go into eternal darkness. But to those that are honest, and religious, this immortality is their sure hope, this the comfort of their hope, this their only defence. Therefore they wish nothing more than that being taken speedily out of these troubles, out of the multitude, out of this filth, and darkness, and being brought into those holy dwellings, they may enjoy that everlasting life, purely clear, and perfectly bright; to which is added a sound rest and perpetual security.  
To conclude: that inaccessible, and unexpugna- ' ble possession of that great good, with whose unshaken confidence, they have assuredly defended their hearts in this life. The man that constantly endeavoureth to this, layeth under his feet all those things which either do not lead hither, or lead from hence. All this sink of other things, he leaveth to those that are evil, and to wits that are in admiration with base and vile things; Of this kind, are riches, pleasures (the nourishments of ambition) that which dazzleth every ignorant eye, enlargeth their desires and woundeth the mind. He knoweth that with these things he is neither beautified nor enriched, but holden back and hindered. He knoweth that with these things he is deluded and led into error, and deceit. He knoweth that of these things, there is not only a satiety but a hatred, at the only mention of this perpetual felicity, he is awaked; this only holdeth him, hath him, possesseth him; he delighteth to hear, and speak of this; this he often repeateth, and imprinteth in himself; all this time he bestoweth in the meditation of this; in this he doth diligently labour, here he doth more satisfy himself: and what marvel? For where else almost doth he meet with himself, here he seeth his beginnings, and his nobility; from hence he esteemeth himself; and would have himself esteemed; from hence he beginneth to be nourished with an aetherial and divine breath, now he beginneth to live with his glory, which is to come, and last of all (as now already received into those high and Heavenly places) he returneth in his height and perfection, and becometh an admirer and worshipper of his own divinity.  
I beseech thee, why dost thou oppose against this wholesome and saving light those mournful and sad darknesses of impiety? Why dost thou with this dangerous acuteness of wit foolishly fain unto thyself, and falsely object those things which are not, rather than truly and faithfully be instructed in those things that are? Why dost thou not free thyself out of this torment? Why do these things swim in thy mind, which if they be not certain, sound, and stable, thou shalt be drowned in the waves of Impiety? What dost thou more trouble, tear, and consume thyself (wretch that thou art)? Will't thou never pull up courageously these too much grown branches of Impiety? Why dost thou delay to pluck out these doubts out of thy mind? Dost thou delight to be miserable and to solicit and trouble thy old age with this blind and unfortunate understanding? why hadst thou rather dangerously float then stay in a sure place of sail with wind and oars over those rocks? And strive for that quiet and calm harbour, where thou thyself wholly mayst be quiet? where thou mayst without all doubt be received into that wished haven? Out of which whosoever is long, must needs suffer shipwreck.  
Think that thy life was given thee for this meditation; without this (as thou sayest it is not life but death; whosoever is not assured of the goodness of GOD toward him, of his Immortality, of eternal and everlasting felicity, he is past remedy. If thou art such a one, why do I talk to thee? Why do I strive with a shadow? Why dost thou lend thy ears to those things, whose mind is a derider and contemner of them? But consider how friendly I will deal with thee; how I have not cast away all care of thy salvation; how much I do give unto thee; whatsoever I have before spoken of the dignity of Man I know that thou dost believe it.  
Whatsoever thou hast heard concerning that; whatsoever more subtly, more learnedly, more largely, may be spoken of it, delivered by the ancient or late Writers, what more truly and more fruitfully Christian piety doth promise, all that (howsoever thou seekest to avoid it) I will have thee grant it as most certain and most known.  
With these and such like, I know thou hast fully been instructed. These once thou hast let sink into thy breast; of these things once thou hast thought religiously; namely when thy mind was purer and not stained with so much frowardness. In one word, I know thou knowest these things: How shall I convince thee? Namely, if I draw thee into the law; thou sayest before what judge? Before that which thou little (esteeming, how truly and sharply it confuteth all error and every false and truthelesse speaker) called'st the Conscience.  
Thither do I call thee; that thou mayst not go far from thyself. Doth not thy conscience tell thee that the presages & divinations, not of a drunksicke mind, but of a certain inward instinct, that those predictions the inward and proper motions of the soul show the devinity and immortality of it? I say inward and proper, because the chiefest beginning of those motions is in itself alone.  
And therefore all things must first perish before it forsake itself, and cease to move, itself being immortal: that which is immortal and being of a simple & uncompounded substance cannot be divided; and if it be not divided, it cannot die; For division is the death of that which is divided. Death is nothing else, but the division and dissolution of one particular into two or many; not content with these, thy conscience proceedeth and saith, That the mind is the glass of the soul, the seat of council, and the government of life.  
From hence proceed those gifts of the soul, which testify the devinity of it; as quickness, providence, prudence, and wisdom. Upon these attend memory, understanding, knowledge, and all the rest of the faculties, that area kin to these, and unseparable from them. To these we may add those, which from the everlastingness of it are derived into the affections; from the affections to the senses; In this rank first is the swiftness of our thoughts; Next our desires, joys, hopes, fears. From hence it certainly appeareth that the better part of man, is the reasonable soul, & the praises that man hath, belong not to the body, but to the soul. Likewise that dispraise, and Infamy are not so much of the body as of the soul corrupted, & a runaway from his own nobility to those tents of evil affections.  
It is most absurd to think that the soul which ever thinketh of his posterity, and is so careful of the long continuance of the memory of itself should die together with the body. Nay, rather it is careful what, and how great it may be, in the opinions of men after it is freed from the body; as though then it thought it had gotten life, when the body had lived many years: For there is nothing can be spoken so falsely, so foolishly, so lyingly, and so impudently; as that the body (a thing earthly) should give life to the soul, a thing heavenly and divine, which of necessity must be granted: if the soul liveth no longer than whilst it is in this vessel of flesh, and that it dieth as soon as it is let loose from thence.  
But there is nothing which either is or can be more certain, than the mortality of the body, because it consisteth of those things which have their motion from others, namely things uncertain, fading, inconstant, waxing old, withering, perishing, and ready to perish, whereupon it is that there is nothing in the body, which can be said to be lively. For to live is to be moved of itself: but the body hath his motions, and agitations from the soul: wherefore this, whether it be called mortality, or finishing of life, or extinguishing, seeing it is a sending out, and a freeing of the soul, it is not only not evil, but the beginning of good, and of that good which alone is the chief, and perfect, and eternal good.  
By which things, that may be gathered which I said before, that the dissolution of the body which we call death, is not only not to be feared, but (I had almost said) to be desired; doubtless merely, constantly, readily to be desired. For this is that by which alone there is a passage made for the souls of good men, to a true life, his own, and everlasting: the same end of life expecteth all; but the effect that followeth of it, is distinguished: For some die once, that they may die eternally; others, that they may live for ever.  
Now, thou seest how foolishly this bodily mortality is either feared, or lamented: after which immediately followeth that heavenly immortality. These and far greater than these, and by many degrees much stronger, which neither the weakness of my mind, nor the slenderness of my wit can attain, nor myself express, which it is fit should be taken out of the writings of holy men, thou canst not deny but they are confirmed by thy own conscience; the sense whereof (although thy body be old) cannot be dulled. For the conscience is the beam of Cod's eye, sent to every man into the secret of his breast, and the most inward part of his heart, this every man beareth about him; this no man can avoid, no more than himself: It is fixed in his heart roots; It is given unto man, as an arbitrator, and overlooker. It can never be shunned, never extinguished, never deceived. Why, thinkest thou? because it is that divine force, which is present in all thy thoughts, actions, virtues, vices; to those a favourer and a commender, to these ever present though as a secret, yet as most severe accuser.  
This thou mayst vndestand to be not one of the least arguments of Divinity. Therefore (O thou old man) if thou leanest that way, thy soul is; if that way thou standest firm; thou wilt also be more equal and indifferent, to that which thou callest death, and wise men call the end of misery? Thou wilt (to conclude) so persuade thyself, that when thou shalt be sent from hence, thou shalt be received there: so that thou goest that way, where thou shalt be known as a Citizen, and a heavenly inhabitant.  
From hence also thou mayst understand that mortal things do little pertain unto thee seeing all the use of them belongeth to thy body: The body serveth the mind; which useth these no further than is fit to keep her dwelling undesolued, until she be commanded to forsake it; For surely this which we call life, is nothing else, but the way of the traveling soul that goeth to his own Country. And all these which encounter him in this life, are but as provision for this great journey, and food to nourish the body, whilst it is the chariot of the soul. But to covet these things too vehemently; to stay gazing and admiring these things by the way and so to forget that place whereunto we go, it is not the work of the soul, but of the body not of a man, but of a beast, for it is certain that man in respect of his soul, is a God, & in respect of his body is a wild beast. And therefore the longer the soul dwelleth in the body, his work is so much the harder. And his praise the greater, if it suffer not itself to be infected with the contagion of it. Yet I do not say that any man vncommanded must go out of his standing, but when he hath leave and is called for.  
And when he is cited and sent for to appear, then if he be slow, then if he be unwilling to go, if he complain, if he strive against it, if he suffer himself to be drawn, surely he is ignorant of himself, what he is and of his own good.  
What? He betrayeth himself by his own ill confession, he maketh fetters to tie himself, and for ever he is excluded from that felicity, without which a man is nothing but a receptacle of miseries.  
Now see what is thy judgement of thyself, who so much fearest death: thou canst not plainly show that there is more earthly matter in thee, that is clay, filth, impurity, than there is man: that is then soul, then celestial substance. The soul in the body is as a stranger in an Inn: it is the part of an inconsiderate and unwise man to go unwillingly out of his Inn, in respect of some object of the throat or the belly: To conclude, it is the point of an unskilful man, and of one that thinks little of his own safety, with the beholding of earthly things to forego heavenly: seeing than that in death there is so much good, dost thou blame thy old age which hath brought thee to so great a good.  
Why dost thou not rather lay aside this voluntary blindness, and this so careful a frowardness, & look at the light? why dost thou not acknowledge this same excellent gift, or rather service of this old age, which bringeth thee so near so excellent a good? Oh stick no longer in these sands, pull out thyself as speedily as thou canst; shake of these lets, break in sunder these hindrances: call the assistance of thy ancient and former mind: stir up thy learning: bend the force of thy wit, call upon the holy spirit, be carried above thy senses, awake thyself, to give God hearty and immortal thanks: esteem his so many benefits in thy mind; express them all in thy words, in thy countenance, in thy gesture, in imitation, in example, than thou shall learn by little and little, that thou oughtest seriously to rejoice, that the time of thy human mortality is come to an end: that the time of thy earthly abode is expired; that the end of thy sinning is at hand, that mortal hopes are cut of, and that heavenly hopes are augmented, and increased: surely when thou camest from thy childhood to be a youth, thou begannest to scorn all those things which did please thy childhood: then being a man I think thy wishes were much wiser than in thy youth: to conclude, in thy old age, thou seest all the desires of the former ages to be quenched, as hot burning iron in cold water, what dost thou learn from hence? Doubtless that there is nothing of such value, in any part of this life, wherewith thou oughtest so to be delighted, that thou shouldest wish to tarry in it; but that there is an other life, which who so entereth truly may say 
My wishes end, I have attained  
All good enough, my life hath gained  
A Citizen of heaven, I am decreed,  
Thus all my wishes I exceed.   
For there shalt thou be a possesser of thyself in security; there shalt thou be an everlasting fountain of thy own good: to thee, unto thyself, there shall be from thyself, an overflowing greatness of joy (yet whereof thou art capable) there what thou shalt be, thou shalt ever be, and be willing to be; thou shalt not desire the praises of men, as having exceeded human mediocrity, and who art now heaped with heavenly felicities: for as the shadow here followeth the body, so there glory shall follow thee, there thou shalt swell with no desires, there thou shalt be lean with no thoughts, there thou shalt waste & pine with no affections, thou shalt not be solicited with hope or fear; thou shalt not be disquieted with any rumours; no gains can make thee more happy, no losses can make thee less; thy immortality shall continue in the same state; thy life shall be a perpetual tranquillity, and that (which is the perfection of all felicity) it shall be a continual sight, and contemplation of thy maker.   

Of those that are unthankful unto men. CHAP. 29.  
HItherto have I proceeded with all the diligence and care I could, to repel those darts which the unthankful mind throweth against God: to these of ours, let any man add whatsoever, he is guilty of himself, neither can I or any man else express those things, for they are placed in the lowest bottom of the mind, where lieth secret all that poison which man's impudency, uttereth against God, every man as he inwardly searcheth himself, shall find it, he only who is the seer of hearts, and also the measurer of times, and the umpire of thoughts: and to whom all secrets are open; apprehendeth the impurities of an others breast, these which we have set down which either may be learned by reading, or touched and known by experience; it is fit the Readers should take in good part.  
Those that are more special, and more secret are left to every man himself; it is sufficient for me, to have showed those things, wherein men in this kind most usually offend; furthermore lest I should permit by negligence any thing that appertaineth to this subject; I will in one word set down those, which by this worst vice delude the society of man, the fault of an ungrateful mind, although it stick fast by the roots of every vice, yet as I think it taketh chiefly his increase, and nourishment, from folly, covetousness, and pride. For the unthankful person, neither acknowledgeth the benefits received; neither regardeth him that gave them; but him that is ready to give, wheresoever he is, he findeth him out and hangeth upon him. He gapeth after things, soon heard, desired, hoped. He accounteth him of whom he hath received a benefit, as a creditor, whose name he blotteth out as not being minded to pay him. Surely in that he thinketh, that he ought him a benefit, which gave him one and was not in his debt, he is a fool, he that neither repayeth nor thinketh of repaying that which he hath received, is the robber of an other, and the sordid miser of his own, and in that he doth not acknowledge them, he is proudly malicious and maliciously forgetful. Therefore an unthankful person (howsoever he wickedly dissembles) doth know that he hath received a benefit, but he taketh the thanks from it that is due unto it, and either passeth it all over with silence, and dawbeth over the memory of it, or impudently denieth the fact. I say, denieth either by dissembling by words or in deed; neither doth the memory of an ungrateful person so much fail him, as his unluckiness, maliciousness, and dissembling overruleth him, which he himself denies not, by often saying, many sacrifice, but few are heard from hence there spring many kinds of unthankful persons, some requite a benefit as they think but secretly, and as fearing lest it should appear, so careful they are, lest any man should see it, neither are they so much ashamed to requite it, as to confess that good turn, which to confess they ought not to be ashamed; of this kind are those for the most part who are bound to their inferiors; to these I may join those who are bound for those gifts, whereby they are more wise, and more learned, yet either they return some small thing, for so great a benefit (and with much a do) or look a squint or not at all, at those by whom they are enriched with those benefits which cannot be requited either with gold or silver, and if peradventure they do acknowledge the benefit, they so frame themselves, that they seem not to repay it: But to bestow as it were some benefit upon their inferiors: like to these are those which either contemn, or hate their School Masters, and those whom they have had as instructors and informers of their young years; by all these for the most part a benefit is so requited, that a man had rather not have it requited at all. In this kind often and very greatly Princes offend towards men painful and industrious; such as are most obsequious unto them; thus often, generals, and Captains offend towards soldiers of excellent virtue; and the less and inferior persons are not in this kind less froward, than those great and mighty, whilst they often swell, and are puffed up more then either they know or can perform; and whilst they do admire their own and odiously extol them, the bounty of others doth grow vile and base with them; surely though they be witty and learned, yet they are swelling and arrogant, and indeed unthankful; and evil interpreters of an other man's liberality. Of this kind was Lentulus, he whom Augustus had drawn from the Courts and pleading, to great riches and honour; yet found him unthankful, for he was not afraid to say, that the Emperor had not bestowed so much upon him, as he lost by pleading, & the use of his eloquence. Amongst unthankful persons I reckon him who is thankful for fear, for he feareth that in his doubtful estate, he shall be forsaken if he be not esteemed for some recompense, and the signification of a grateful mind. Others require a benefit in some part, but it is of an other man's, whilst in the mean time they spare their own.  
These understand not that there is scarce any requittall of thanks, but with some cost, nay not without the help first of virtue, then of our wealth, and our increasing happiness (others and these are men of an evil disposition) wish evil to those, of whom they have received a benefit, that in the misery of an other they may have occasion to be found thankful. Neither do they this so much to help him that needeth his help, as laying aside all conscience, for a vain rumour of glory. Others (whilst they are over desirous to seem thankful) they fall into that vice which they shun; and which exceedingly they hate in others: they are sorry (they say) for the least thing to be bound either to this man or to that; they are so impatient for the receiving of a benefit, that as overloaden with some great burden, they are presently desirous to lay it off, these whilst they cannot endure to sustain the benefits of others show plainly that they will no way have other be beholding to them: others presently return the thing they have received or the like value, as a debtor doth gold or silver, they dare bestow nothing besides the principal. These in giving back again that, which they have received, or some thing of the same value, do not requite a benefit; for seeing every requital of a benefit, is rather the thanks of the mind, then of the thing, he that requiteth not a thing given, with the same thankful mind that it is given, doth not requite a benefit.  
From hence it followeth, that he which doth not requite a benefit, because when he would, he cannot, is often thankful; whereas he that requiteth it not with thy mind, is ever unthankful. Others slowly and sluggishly requiting a benefit, requite it not at all; for with these a benefit doth so wither, that by degrees it vanisheth away; these Saint Ambrose pronounceth to be unthankful, as all those who expect to be called upon to requite a benefit received; others in requiting an old benefit, expect a new, neither do they know how to give any thanks, but such as have hooks in them; which what way soever they are applied, they ever each something. This is the Courtier's manner to ensnare the liberality of others, in this deceitful kind of thanks; and with this mind, speak of the old benefits, to gain new and much greater by it. Thus they banish benefits out of the society of men, and instead of benefits, bring in a deceitful gaining kind of traffic, and plain filthy baseness, wherewith the honesty of all benefits is blemished. He also is unthankful whom thou hast not tied unto thee with thy benefits, nor giveth thee no thanks for them, but requiteth them with evil words, and to these addeth also evil deeds.  
Thus he hateth him to whom he oweth more of a debtor, and one that is bound, he becometh an enemy, ever quarrelling, injurious, full of brawling, threatening, and revenging. This worst kind of men (from whom there is nothing to be reaped but a harvest of much evil) one resembleth to a ram which often butteth with his horns at him that is higher; I should rather think such a one to be that Woulse, of which was made the Greek Epigram, which I have assailed to translate word for word: 
Ifeede the wolf, with milk (against my will)  
But so my shepherd needs will me command,  
Fed with my milk, he fiercely doth me kill:  
For kind no kindness is able to withstand.   
This kind of unthankful persons, the wise man noteth in these words; he that rewardeth evil for good, evil shall not depart from his house. Like unto these are they to whom we must give thanks (and against our wills) for miuries and reproaches that are done unto us; Of this kind are these cruel heads, tyrants, diffemblers, framed to arrogancy, cruelty, and impiety, who in the midst of sacreledge and slaughter, according to their clemency and good nature bestow wicked and cruel fanours; at the envy whereof they blush not, but amongst their sighs & groans, are content to suffer flattering thanks to be bestowed upon them, & find praise in heinous offences. To conclude they think it meet not only to have thanks but to receive gifts from those whom they have spoiled. Neither have Princes only this great and heavy hand, but others also, such a one did Marcus Caelius describe Appius Claudius to be, writing to Marcus Tullius, in these words. I am ashamed to confess unto thee, and to complain of the injuries of the most ungrateful man Appius, who began to hate me because he ought me many good turns, and when that miserable man could not command himself to pay them, he made open war with me: wisely and after his manner (saith Tacitus) benefits are so long acceptable, as that there is hope they may berequited; but when they begin to exceed for thanks, they reap hatred; These are the ways so far as I know whereby men are for the most part unthankful; that is evil deceivers of benefits received; In which vice (as Cicero saith) there is no vice wanting; Doubtless there is none a greater enemy to human society. By this means mutual charity is extinguished, the hope of mutual help is cut off, and all the traffic of humanity and kindness is stopped. For the going and coming of thanks being taken away, those whom thou seest, are no more men, but wild beasts in the shape of men, ever ravening that which is nearest unto them. The unthankful person is an enemy of all men; nay of all humanity itself: he is a gulf that draweth all things unto him, without respect of any but of himself, It may wholly be despaired that there should be any intercourse of humanity with him, who admitteth no interchange either of things, or words: For as their is no greater argument of love and courtesy then ingeniously to receive, and to give thanks: so there is no surer sign of a very crooked nature, then to be unthankful: those that have called an unthankful person, a tun that is bored through, because it holdeth nothing, but all is lost that is put into it, In my opinion they have said little what he is: He is I know not what worse thing, a plague, a poison, those are more significant in my opinion which have given to the unthankful person, the ewe tree for his badge, a tree sad and unlucky, full of hurtful fruit (if those poisoned berries may be called fruit) and a deadly shadow, nay antiquity did account this vice so odious that the Latins did not think it worthy to have a name, besides what marvel is it, if as there is no man so hurtful to all, so there be no man so hated of all as he that is infected with this vice.  
There is nothing saith Plautus more burdensome than an unthankful person. It is much better that thou shouldest be ever bountfiull, then unthankful; For the good will commend him, but this even the bad themselves will dispraise. We have that same excellent speech of ENNIUS to AUGUSTUS, taking it impatiently that it was not in his own power, not to be unthankful.  
This one injury (saith he) O Caesar thou hast done unto me, that I live and die unthankful. All which things though they be very true, and that it is certain that there is nothing a greater enemy or more odious than an unthankful person, yet we must not hate them, but blame them, and amend them, lest peradventure we hate ourselves. For who is there if he look more truly, and more severely into himself, that is not prone unto this vice? who is there that loveth not himself, so much that almost he despiseth all others? Who is there so upright, that leaneth not this way? The greatest men oftentimes, and such as were the conquerors of other vices (if this were not wanting unto them) are triumphed over, of this fault only; neither is this the stain and blemish of particular persons, and men unlearned, but of the most and most skilful: yea (which is more strange) of all, and often of those who are much esteemed for their excellent wisdom. The Senate of Rome is said unthankfully to have requited the first builder of their City: nay, Rome itself was held most unthankful to Camillus and Scipio Africanus, the two greatest and worthiest pillars of that Empire. Surely these are said to be the words of Africanus: O ungrateful Country, thou shalt not enjoy so much as my bones. He might truly exclaim: 
Punishment is all that triumph gains,  
And doth our Conquests merit only stains?   
The Carthagians were not free from this fault, when as they gave Zantippus the Lacedaemonian captain, for taking of Regulus, an honourable reward, but secretly to the ma●…riners to be drowned. An ungrateful mind in the men of Carthage, could not endure that the Lacedæmonians should gain the honour of this taken enemy. The Prophet Esay that severe rooter up of impiety, in the very beginning of his prophesy, in plain terms upbraideth the jews with their great unthankfulness; the ox knoweth his owner, and the Ass his masters crib, but Israel hath not known, my people hath not understood. Thus God by Ezechiell reproveth the great unthankfulness of Jerusalem, Ezech. 16. Wisely saith Si●…maclius, it is never fittenor safe for a Commonwealth to be unthankful. It is truly also said of Marcus Aurelius (that wise and most experienced Prince) that two things especially are to be observed of a Prince, not to revenge his enemies, nor to be unthankful toward his friends. As it is true in private persons, so that common saying is most true in Princes: The earth yieldeth not any thing worse, than an unthankful person. Here it is fit to admonish all not to detract from their bounty, by reason of the ingratitude of any, nay rather let him desire to be esteemed a man beneficial, because this virtue lieth contemned; especially in this age which hath scarce left any place either for benefits or thanks. Let him think that the greatest reward of this virtue, is in the virtue itself. Therefore let him not require thanks for a pleasure done: For thanks perish as soon as they are required; nay the only remembrance of a benefit, is an upbraiding, no less hateful in the giver, then forget fullness in the receiver. It is a ridiculous levity to suffer the occeasions, and matters of well doing to perish; because the benefit with some one man hath perished: Nay, if any where, then here we must be constant; For the first virtue continueth not unless thou add a second to it: For thou canst scarce defend former benefits; but with following benefits, In giving and receiving of benefits, we must not ever follow which way things lead us, but what way reason counseleth. It is of so much value saith (Seneca) to find one thankful, that thou must prove even those that are unthankful. Therefore let every one do this, whilst he giveth former benefits, to think of those which must be given after;   

Of the punishment of unthankful persons. CHAP 27  
THe greatest punishment of an unthankful person is in the fault itself. No infamy may be compared with that which springeth from this stain. Neither is there any punishment so cruel as to be called, and to be accounted unthankful; this, though it be true, yet Seneca saith that amongst the Macedonians there lay an action of plea against unthankful persons: and other grave writers affirm that there have been judgements given against this kind of men. Others prosecute this fault with the most grievous kind of punishment: killing the unthankful person by nailing him through the neck to the earth with a stake. Surely Amianus Marcellus reporteth, that the Persians had most severe laws, amongst which the cruelest were against those who were unthankful, or had failed their friends.  
Thus amongst the Hebrews: sons that were unthankful to their parents were stoned to death: Philip, King of Macedon branded with a mark that soldier that was unthankful; amongst the Athenians the bondman convicted of his patron, was deprihed of the right of freedom. By the civil law, Donations bestowed upon unthankful persons, were reversed. Sons for this fault were disinherited. he that was at liberty, was called into the government of his father: the vassal looseth his free farm: Amongst other nations (I know not whether more wisely) there was no law (at all) made against unthankful persons:  
For seeing the value of a benefit can scarcely be esteemed, and of an uncertain thing the valuation is uncertain, it is thought sufficient to punish him that is unthankful with the hatred of men, and to refer him unto God the severe revenger. Let this action cease saith Seneca, because a good turn must be done without hope of recompense, for it is the debt of honesty. Which if it be true (as it is) if any man be called into judgement for a benefit received, and not requited, it ceaseth to be a benefit, and the thing is made a debt. For all thanks of a benefitie as soon as there is mention of paying, utterly perisheth: for the reason is far unlike (saith Tully) betwixt a debt of money, and a debt of thanks.   

Every benefit received aught to be requited, and how it may be. CHAP, 31,  
HItherto we have laboured to make plain what impiety against God, what wickedness against man, and how much inhumanity is in an unthankful mind: I have also taught that those acceptable and fruitful thanks which only God accepteth of us, is a sincere and a religious mind, namely that mortality should (at least) reverently worship that sacred power which it cannot recompense with any benefit, and whose benefits he cannot value how great they are, that him he should reverence with all duty and honour: not in unlike manner are men to be requited. First I say, that whatsoever the state is wherein we are, in that we are never deprived of the ability of thankfulness; if with all our understanding be not taken from us: for the first step of a thankful mind, is no such thing as there need much labour to perform it, for it is nothing else, but presently to acknowledge the benefit, presently to be bound by it, to profess the thing not dissemblingly, but as it is indeed, to confess how much thou hast received, of what kind, and of what kind of giver, by what occasion, how fit for thy affairs; in how fit a time and place, how bountifully, with what facility in the giver, and with what profit to the receiver, neither otherwise can they be both made alike. To conclude, so to think, and thus or in the like manner to speak to him, of whom we have received a benefit: as long as I live, I shall never think that I have returned thanks: no not though I try all means, neither I beseech you do you thinkeso: Your benefit shall ever remain firm in my mind: that which you have given, you account a small thing, but I find that to be great which I have received: besides how great must I needs think it bestowed, without my desert; to obtain which, I used no begging, no cost, no labour, no flattery, no boldness: beside you used no art, to make me entreat more earnestly, you●… cut of all those things which might hinder or weaken my hope: of your own accord you have ever bestowed that excellent benefit upon me; you turned the modesty of my wishes into confidence, my confidence into effect; and having yet received nothing, yet you expect nothing; so that I cannot tell whether your bounty were greater in giving, or your modesty in expecting: surely if I can perform nothing else, yet I will do this, that the benefit which exceedeth my ability to requite, by my thankfulness you shall ever have cause to remember: although I know that I am more bound unto you then I can speak; and because I have nothing wherewith to give thanks, I will only wish and desire God to perform it for me. Doubtless he that speaketh thus, although he hath not given any thing, yet he hath requited the benefit, when as often times he that hath given much, yet hath done nothing, and is unthankful. For all the estimation of a benefit (as we have spoken before) is referred unto the mind: not unto that which is either given or received, not to the vulgar estimation of men, which oftentimes misconstrueth things, nor to the profit either reaped or hoped for from the benefit: and as we have said that a benefit is one thing, and a debt an other, so here we must distinguish the matter of thanks and reward, benefit and debt: of him who is a debtor for a good turn, and of him who is debtor for money lent, hereupon it followeth, that it is in every man's own power, how unthankful he is, for as soon as thou showest that thou hast gratefully received a benefit, thou hast requited it; study to be thankful and thou art thankful. For as soon as sincerely thou hast but thought of requiting a benefit, thou hast requited it. Look at that which he looked at that gave it, he that hath given a benefit hath filled both the sides of the lease; both of the layings out, and the receipts. If thou returnest a benefit with the same mind that thou hast received it, thou art thankful, if thou needest none to put thee in mind, if thou be admonished of thy own conscience; thou hast obtained the praise of a thankful person; thou hast adorned thy thanks with all the ornaments of beauty; last of all, thou showest that thou art brought up in the company of those most thankful graces; whose Trinity wise antiquity made to be the badge of a thankful mind. The next step of a thankful mind, is, that he which is so affected perform indeed that which he thus thinketh: to this purpose, that he add all the means & the endeavours that he can, and the greater & more acceptable that the benefit is which thou hast received, so much the more soon and more cheerfully seek occasion, and being offered take occasion to requite it; leave nothing unattempted to show thyself thankful, so let every man persuade himself, that as it was needful to receive the benefit, so it is no less needful to requite it. In one word, whosoever thou art, fear God, reverence the judgements of men, free thyself from those punishments which remain for unthankful persons, know that humanity is contained in the intercourse of benefits, this being taken away, all right & honesty is utterly overthrown, as much as in thee lieth (whosoever thou art) defend and maintain this whereof God, nature, and necessity is an author to thee.  
These pains Right Honourable I will enlarge no further, although I am not ignorant that much more might be spoken of it, which I know is performed of most learned & most eloquent men, who before me have travailed with commendations in this argument, but as every man followeth his own spirit, so I doubt not but I shall obtain pardon of you, & of all those into whose hands this labour shall come, if being content with these few things I cut of all other superfluous, intricate and by ways; I know that those delight more, but in these which I have used, there is more strength; peradventure more authority and credit, and if any thing in this be pretermitted by me, it is fit that he that observeth so much, should supply himself, out of those everlasting fountains both old and new, whilst we in the mean time do meditate something of more worth.  
Laus Deo FINIS.