To the right worshipful Master Christopher Hatton Esquire, Captain of the Queen's majesties Guard, and Gentleman of by'r highness privy Chamber.  
THAT noble Stoic Seneca (right worshipful) to whom all the ancients passed yielded place & principality for Moral Philosophy, shut up in this short sentence reasons of great substance, saying: Fortune is ever fleeting, for she never giveth joy without heaviness, sweet without bitterness, rest without travel, renown without envy, and generally, no felicity without some sequel of adversity. This I presently found verified in myself, while motioned by glad mind and dutiful good will to shroud this little labour under the protection of your worship's favour, I feel double fear to front my proceeding: your noble worthiness and my bashful rudeness, which both are repugnant to my humble desire: yet matching the first with the goodness of your nature (compelled to encounter force with force) and mating the last with the profoundness of my Author, I presume to present the same unto you, entitled the Philosopber of the Court, and dedicated to his Lady a lover of virtue. The name and dedication seemeth of some credit, but the circumstance and conclusion I can not sufficiently commend. Great volumes have large fields to march in, and so much the more laboursome to peruse: but if it please your worship to tread over this little Treatise, I dare avouch, you shall find in it, both flowers and fruit (not to supply the scarcity, but to increase the plenty and pleasant purposes) of Courtly Philosophy. Wherein as my ignorance shall eclipse or shadow the worthiness of the work: Spread (I humbly pray) the gladsome beams of your favourable and well liking cheer upon it: so shall you tender to the reader my Author much bettered, make him of other gentlemen Courtiers more accepted, my pen to further travel encouraged, and myself in this enterprise most glad and pleased. Hear some curious man may control me for presuming to translate, professing (as necessity compelleth) a harder condition, and say: a writer of a Soldier? why? the pen and pike do differ, Mars and Minerva are contrary, Bellona is nothing pleased with books: yet Poets have often painted Pallas that Academical Gods to be armed with spear and shield. Time, and the intent well employed, is not to be reproved. And Cicero pleading pro Planco saith: Otij non minus quàm negotij ratio extare debet. Therefore to encounter any such callendge, I enforce my best endeavour with the assured supply of your noble favour, and remain for ever (in either fortune) proposse, your worship's humble Soldier.  
George North.   

10. Daniel.  

THE buzzing Bee and Spider eke, forth of one bud done find  
Both healthsome juice and venom vile, yet each contents his 〈◊〉  
And 'mongst all things men choose the best, and done them daily use,  
But good men usen good things well, bad men done them abuse.  
We know that fire and water bo●●, no ●retu●e can forbear,  
And yet often times we see them both, how e they abused are.  
By fiery flames and flowing floods, we see much mischief fall.  
As countries drowned, and cities burnt, myself have known them all:  
And yet the Bee, and best men eke, which use good things aright,  
deserven praise by judgement mine, in spite of spiteful spite.  
And now George North compare may well, with good men and with Be ●,  
For he the worse doth hate, and best doth praise, as we may see  
By book of his, which here we may, peruse and eke behold:  
A frenchman strange, by North his toil an english tale hath told,  
To show what Philosophus is, if it be taken right,  
And how by corrupt worldlymen, it is abused quite.  
But N. I knew his meaning is, that all things would be better,  
If taken right, Philosophus, were from the greekish letter:  
And that is, as I understand, divine wisdom to love,  
And leave such wisdom as the world doth daily to us move.  
Wherefore O North my friendly friend, I must needs yield thee praise,  
For that in virtue such I see thee seek to spend thy days.    

William Hitchockes Gent.  

THE pricking spur doth keep the trampling steed in away,  
The haling horse is driven, with lashing whi● to draw,  
The ●earing Ass is forced, by bruising bat to toil,  
The piercing goad doth make the painful Ox to moil:  
The goad, the whip, the bat, and spur, which only drive  
To tend the painful path where virtue wonts to live,  
Is praise: why then give praise (which is the good and spur,  
The whip and bat whereby each doth in virtue stur)  
To him that did translate: thyself shalt thereby gain  
To force him for thy sake, to take much greater pain.    

The Argument of the Book.  

GReat strife hath grown with elders sage in search of sovereign good,  
The wiser sort deemed Nature it, but naught they understood:  
Our Sovereign good framed Nature base, to him we thanks must yield,  
We wrought self thrall, yet he in love made gracious Christ our shield.  
But sith they erred, and seeming grave mistoke good on this sort,  
Give young men leave for learning's sake to speak their minds in sport.  
I take our sovereign good to be, to live in Court aright,  
With prudent care to seek our gaints, of arts to have some sight▪  
In justice to do no man wrong, to give great thanks to win,  
For Fame to crouch, or fight for right, shifted poor, shifted friend, shifted kin,  
To temper talk and deeds with such as further may our fetch,  
With haughty looks to shun the laws, and grasp within our reach▪  
Philosophers would think it new, but reason wills them stay,  
For they have spoken: indifferent doom must bear the bell away.    

The Prologue, or Author's Epistle, to his Lady, a lover of virtue.  
I Shall now see most noble Lady, whither the doubtful opinion that you have long time had of me: which I have neither been hitherto able by reasons or excuse to remove, may by the troth itself make you of a contrary judgement. For it is not once, twice, or thrice that you have reproved me, to be a promiser, a deceiver, and such a one as you perceived (as you told me yourself) to be worthy of little or no credit at all: Notwithstanding that in all my promises, or any other ways without promise, wherein my humble service might be most agreeable and best liked of you, I have not failed, either in desire, or execution. But this is none other than the natural disposition of you Gentlewomen, still to pick such quarrels: when (according to your good custom) you desire any thing, be it never so weighty, weak, or dangerous: your longing for the same is so great, that without consideration, of the opportunity, the easiness, or the possibility, you think on nothing else, but on the necessity to have it done. And if the end succeed not as you wish, you lay the fault upon your servants, whom afterwards you call liars and promisers. Yet whatsoever I say, though it be reported to be a common fault in women, I will not maintain the same to be in you: For knowing your noble mind above others, settled in so lofty a seat, as seeing and viewing a far off the small faults, errors, and abuses, wherein their Ignorance may be wrapped: your wisdom I nothing doubt, is able well enough to avoid it: being exempted from the common sort, and contrary too such wayward conditions. I will then persuade my self, that such reproach (if it may so be called) cometh from a good mind, and of good will, being sure that you know me otherwise towards you. And therefore by the way have said it, rather to advertise me, than that I should seem such to you, or you accounted so of me, but rather because I should become such a one, even as it often fareth with those, that being in fear, commonly complain before they feel any grief. Yet can I not content myself with this persuasion, seeing that my affection seems not to be so entire lie known unto you, while you make so little account of it. Therefore to give you better testimony of that you are so doubtful to believe, and to the end that by this argument, you may hope for better assurance hereafter, of that which (it may be) ye suspect. For (I desire rather to satisfy you, than myself, though I have juster cause too suspect you, than you me) after my departure from Paris, expelling and chase from me sundry fantasies, by the absent remembrance of your so good a will, which ordinary presence would not suffer: I enterprised this travel, to writ this little treatise unto you, packing up in this so small a volume, the delightful instructions of Philosophy, and manner how to live: in the which we passed this melancholic time of winter, where, and in what company you know: mingling our other common pastimes, with this Noble discourse. I am not ignorant of the ferventness of your desire, to understand the troth in all things: for when as sometimes being with you, between ourselves, I would assay to be come a good Orator: you by importunate mean, have constrained me to become a Philosopher. 
Young years meetest for the study of Philosophy.  And I pray you who are meeter to Philosophy: that is to search the knowledge of God, & of man, to know who we are, where we are, wherefore we are, and how we should govern and guide our lives one with another, than our younger people? Who by reason of green years and small experience, having not yet their judgements certain or settled, but wild and rash, and till the scum & filth of youthful heat be boiled out of them, are but little profitable to the common wealth. O what a laudable custom were it, and commodious to any country, if the administration of common wealth, were not committed and put on such as are young, rude, and of no experience: and that such in no wise should govern or give counsel, till they were thoroughly tried and approved. Then the people should not endure so much danger, and they in applying some pain to discretion, should in the end, be most profitable to themselves: For it would be a great contentment to their life (after experience had) and specially, their old age would not be so melancholy, angry, impatient, and wayward, in digesting all things evil. For 
Experience n aches age ●asie.  what made Cato the elder, as Cicero in his book de Senectute, saith, to bear his years so patiently, too be so pleasant. and well disposed an old man, and (which is more marvelous) to be joyful and merry in young and youthful company, but the great knowledge, and experience he had in all things? I feel myself to stray from my first intent, and by little and little to fall from my purpose: It is then requisite for youth, to use and acquaint themselves to a solitary and contemplate life, not as hermits in the wilderness, or like Monks in the Cloisters: but such a sure and diligent mean, as they may be capable, to inform, and instruct themselves in time to all good things: So that when the spirit is thus framed and taught, and the furious flame of youth put out: they may the sooner and better exercise the life active, and then take upon them, to travel for the common wealth of their Country. If my head and beard were somewhat grey in silver show answerable to this cause, I would make an invective, and declaim against this foolish, brutish, and unbridled youth, which delights not but in unprofitable matters, and void of reason, never regarding nor following other guide than Carelessness, accounting it shame, and reproach to be seen or thought to do any thing for good purpose. And (if you will noble Lady, pardon me privately to reprove you) I cannot wonder enough to see, that among you worthy Damsels, being (as you are) the judges, 
Ladies are the patrons and preservers of the privileges of youth.  patrons and preservers of the privileges of youth: how you can commonly approve and allow those unprofitable actions, in dolts and beasts of no courage, sometime proceeding of an evil nature: and yet they have such place with you, that being in your Court men lauded and glorious flatterers, you rejoice with them, and equally favour them, as pleasant and worthy servants. It would very well become (as it seemeth unto me) young men, to employ this liberty, and pleasant time of youthful years, in the knowledge of virtue, and in other commendable exercises of the body, as wrestling, wherein is showed both valour & virtue: To the end that being so experimented, feeling their own strength, and coming too man's state, they need not any longer to learn how they aught to live. For so soon as a man comes either to serve the common wealth, or to have care of his household: he should no more be a scholar, but rather an instructor. Who if he will after break his brains about Philosophy, neglecting his charge, and regarding not his family, Plato wills, he should be turned to play with nuts among boys, and whipped with rods among children. And for this purpose, I desire you noble Damsel, to read one piece in Plato of Gorgias, beginning with this sentence (for there he teacheth, why, how, where, and when Philosophy is to be used,) Philosophy saith he, is an excellent thing and very seemly, so that it be used moderately, soberly, and in due time of years: wherein if any plunge themselves too deep, it destroyeth them utterly. It may seem by this, that Plato reproves indifferently, the perfect knowledge of Philosophy: yet truly he neither despiseth nor dispraiseth it, but so far as it is unprofitable and hindereth us from our other needful affairs. For since that all sciences were invented for the help of man, and as much for the conservation of the Soul, the body and goods, as consequently to entertain a society, company, and fellowship among men: To what purpose then, do any break their brains in their studies, if it be not for profit to themselves, or benefit to some others? Considering therefore that you have your wit at liberty, roving at will, and treading your pleasant steps at random, where best liketh your youthful years to carry you (though it somewhat yieldeth to natural affection) follow I pray you your first intent, and there shall want no good will in me, seeing I prepare myself to matters of greater importance than this, and other matters also, but that your desire shall be satisfied. Yet I know that this word Philosophy doth sound so hateful in the ears of many, though some false and evil opinion they have of Philosophy to them unknown: that they will think it strange and absurd to pervert or mar (for so ●hey term it) so excellent a perfection of nature, as is in you, with so melancholic opinions. Therefore this I will say: seeing they nei●her know nor hate Philosophy, but only for ●he name, let us leave the word, and speak no more of it: but let us say, that you do learn how to live in the world: which all people do covet too know, and yet too live in the world is no other thing than the same which we call or term Philosophy, as we will prove hereafter, wherein, it would grieve me, (following my purpose) if you and I, should so much use our judgements, and with such hot affection, that we forget to know ourselves, and so make us mockeries and laughingstockes to the world. I think it not good to have my house of a tun as Diogenes had: nor to scratch out my eyes as Democritus did: or die for hunger as he that had his Malissa, the better too know and understand Philosophy. But I commend and praise him, who making good ohere, loving good wine, and seeking good fellowship, can by the way contemplate and mark the manner and living of every one: and consider of those that do both good and evil, the vantage of either. In thus using the mother of all Sciences, 
Philosophy the mother of Sciences.  she will never make any heavy nor angry or as (some report) by inordinate study melancholy: but she may draw them from many and sundry follies, that smell more brutish than manly. And if any will say that without this, every man may live: I dare affirm, that he is so far from reason, as his opinion deserves no answer. As for the pleasure, desire, and contentment that comes of it, thus much may be said: that if in the morning, when you attire yourself among your maidens, the clear crystal, and good looking glass, delights you, in showing the perfect Image of your outward proportion: how much more should you rejoice to behold and see yourself in this Science, to know what is your life, what it aught too be, what you are, and what is the substance of every thing? Hereby you shall learn, how the wife aught too govern and behave herself, with her husband: it showeth how you shall well instruct and guide your household: your ●ittle private common wealth shall be so neat ●nd polished, as nothing better: you shall know ●owe to use yourself toward strangers: and ●ou may be assured by this, without reproof ●o do any thing freely, for infamy and slander shall no way torment you. What would ●ou wish or desire more? On the contrary, without this knowledge, you remain in suspense and doubt, like too a traveler being in the open field and pressed on his journey, not knowing his way: you have no other guide, than that blind beast of common and popular judgement, who (as ignorant and unexpert in all things) sayeth and doth one while one thing and an other while an other. For what is more inconstant than Ignorance? Thus being bond to this foolish, variable, and common opinion, and having no other reason or council, but to follow others: you shall soon understand in what miseries and care you live. Knowing therefore your so good affection, and to the end to deliver you out of his prison and miserable darkness of Ignorance, I have written to you this little treatise, altogether rude and impolished, as a w●nderer through the country: In the which you shall briefly see the sum of that I ever thought in Philosophy: wherein the ancient & Sages past reposed their sovereign bounty: Then how it is in these days disguised and masked, grounded only on man's opinions and not on Nature: And last, you shall amply find (yet not so much as I gladly would) what I think of this new Philosophy, which is the order and manner of living in these days▪ In writing whereof I have played Democrates, & applied the whole too a pleasant conclusion. Therefore when you understand the one and the other, you will use it (I know) so discreetly, that it shall not let you from your necessary causes, of more importance. And if in the discourse of the book, I speak more uncivilly and boldly than is meet or convenient to your excellency: It may please you poise those words and sentences, in the balance apt and convenient to the matter here treated, which hath oft & in many places made me forget the sweet and gentle style that you might desire. To conclude, I humbly request you to receive this my little labour, as the fruit of your own possession & inheritance: whereby I shall seem to have gained great profit, if it please you to preserve it & close it in the coffer of your gracious favour: wherewith I have nothing too wish or desire, but the immortality of the same.   

The Philosophy of the Court.  
THe ancient Philosophers past whose moral judgements were allowed for doctrine in their time, did all affirm that nature hath given us nothing evil: and if in our life we would follow, or do no more than we are naturally inclined unto, and that which she prescribeth, we should never do any thing but well. But if we grow deeper into consideration of the cause, and come nearer the quick, which they could not so well attain to, as we may (who have our eyes open and cleared by him from whence proceedeth this nature, of which they speak so much, and which took that name through ignorance of him: For who is it else that we should call Nature, if we believe God to be the creator of all things?) It will manifestly appear, that thi●●entence is truer than they think for. They say, the instinct of nature, sufficeth only to live will: and we likewise affirm the sam●: yet they know not that the well living whereof we speak, is perfecter than their Philosophical living, which in respect of ours is most unlike well living. Notwithstanding we affirm as they, and agree with them, that nature hath given us sufficient aid and help too live well. But to the end we enter not into error, or seem to deprave God of due glory which I speak for his honour: I will not say that this nature which I now speak of, and the philosophical reason is all one. For the nature whereof I now writ, is the first nature, not corrupt or filthy, or blind, but such as known no sin, nor tasted of any other thing, than the blessing of God. This I am sure hath no part in evil: I call that evil according to the balance and measure wherewith we try good and evil at these days, which is much juster and harder than the trial of Philosophers. But since it bathe been corrupted and touched by our enemy, it still abideth lame and unperfit: And (that is worse) it cannot acknowledge what it was at the first, nor conceive from whence it took beginning, except it belightened by a spiritual clearness, which these Philosophers had not. Even so this second Nature soiled in filth as she is, is the same that the Philosophers so much speak of and mean (for they knew no better) but this is nothing to satisfy God's justice, or the good life required of us by him: but is rather a hurt and hindrance too the same. Yet otherwise to make a man just, wise, grave, and virtuous, among men, which is the accomplishing of the precepts of Philosophy, nature can do all. For the spirit of man can perceive no imperfitenesse in this nature being so spoiled, ignorant and weak: yet having this understanding and judgement (which is abiding in this second Nature) that God hath not made any thing evil: and believing that this second Nature is the first, not corrupted but made of God as in deed it is, and that there is no other: he weens all to be well, and supposes all operations proceeding from this to be perfit good, and estemes whatsoever is done by the same for virtue. This is (as I conjecture) all the science and ignorance of the Philosophers. This is the knowledge of our grave and sage fellows of the world, that have so arrogantly vaunted of this great dame virtue. These are the causes that the laws civil, which is part of their Philosophy, do suffer some things repugnant to god's rommandement, as keeping of Concubines, to repel by forée, (which they say is natural) any prescription with breach of faith, & such like We will therefore speak as they, and with them, but with an other intent: not entreating so much of their true virtue, as of any other disguised and masking virtue, which men do follow and honour in stead of the right: to the end the world may know their double folly and ignorance: for having found this last and new virtue, they have not that they suppose: and though they had it, yet should they have nothing.  
Nature therefore (to speak as a Philosopher) 
Nature is the mother of all good things.  is the mother of all good things, and the same which provokes us to virtue. Then it must needs follow, that we are naturally born to do good, and that she soweth in our minds, certain small sparkles of good will: which if we quench by wicked custom of doing evil, we aught not to imputo the same to nature, for none can justly say that naturally any is evil. These small sparks are stirring sharp pricks, that still do move and encourage us, to do those things which are good of themselves. So that after the first provoking motion which cometh of nature, the alone and only goodness of those causes, is the final end which draweth ●s thereunto. This is the same that Aristotle treats of in the first of his Ethikes, who persuades what virtue is, and how it may be known, saying: Si quispiam rerum agendarum est finis, quem nos propter seipsam expetimus, constat hunc talem finem summum bonum, ipsumque, optimum esse. If there be in our doings any end, the which we desire for itself: it confirms that this end is the sovereign good, and that in the same consists virtue. Wherefore we must believe that if any other intent or cause make us to do any act, than such as beseemeth honesty, and notwithstanding the same seem lawful & laudable, yet is it not good. Virtue will be loved only for her own sake, which is a point wherein many (but of mean understanding) though of sufficient judgement, are often deceived: when they see a man of good courage, enforce himself with great pain to do any thing that seems good in itself: as to help his neighbour, or well to serve his master: or to defend his subjects: so soon as they know it done, they strait esteem him an honest man: nothing considering why he did it: either for reputation to be a good man, or to be better recompensed than be deserved, whereby he might defraud another well deserver, or for fear of reproach if he should not do it: by which it may appear unto us, that those works which to us seem best are nothing worth, we must not judge any work according to the show, but according to the cause and intent of the doer. For (as Aristotle says) virtue and vice consist in the intent, and not in the work. Therefore we must be more careful to beware that the show of good deceive us no more, than the appearance of evil. For a masked evil, is a double mischief: and no evil is so dangerous, as preferred & well seeming goodness which is called hypocrisy. Wherein Cicero took some pain in the first book of his Offices, at the end of the Chapter, beginning: Sed ea animi elatio, etc. speaking of magnanimity, where he saith, that it is rashly & tauntingly spoken▪ that we should take in hand & enterprise any hard, dangerous and worthy attempt, without desire of glory: for that there are few found (as he affirmeth) who after they have done any thing valiantly or worthily, are not glad to be praised, esteeming this pomp● of rural brute, a triumphant reward of their well doing. But I believe Cicero then thought of himself: for supposing that some known him very covetous of honour, & yet would seem neble minded & virtuous, he would not altegither separate this desire of glory from magnanimity.  
The hope of prai se should encourage the evil to do well, and to exercise the same, by which exercise they may accustom themselves to virtue, that by little & little they may become good men: and when they are become such, the love of virtue only will make them do well, and no cause else. We desire and love many other things, not for the love of themselves but for the love of others, as money to be merry with, & health to be at our ease: so that having both money & health, and wanting our ease, we should not be satisfied. But virtue is of greater value, & of more price with us: for she alone pleaseth us: and we desire to do well, only for that it is good to do well, & to none other end. Nature than makes us love such things as are good▪ & this love by her, is so firmly fixed in us, that howsoever nature is corrupted & altered, yet is she still inclined & drawn to that which seems to her best: & this semblance daily followeth the quality and condition of nature. For as long as she is sound and not corrupted, so long good things in their perfection seem also good, and follow her. On the contrary part, when nature is corrupted, reason & judgement sleep, lust & ape●it govern, black seemeth white, & evil good: the wickedest works seem to her good, she catcheth hold on them, she followeth them and doth as much mischief as may be, and so makes a virtue of that which in deed is vice. This is the same that the Poet meant, saying: Decipimur specie recti, The appearance of good deceiveth us, not for that the good changeth, or showeth itself at any time otherwise than it is: but our natural judgement being corrupt and blind, so mistakes it. Since therefore the fragility and weakness of our nature is so great, that unwares to us, sléepingly, and as in a dream, she changeth herself: if we have not diligent regard (for this world is no other than full of allurements to vice) she being once altered, the semblance and opinion likewise altereth, & new affections enter, to serve this new appetite, as it fareth with some king entering into his new kingdom, where prowess is not used, & the wandering mind carried indifferently either one way or other: and therefore it is commonly said that virtue is the centre or midst of vice: for none can so little decline to any side, but falls into one vice or other. We aught then to be very careful to nourish and maintain this nature in her simplicity, even as she is, before she be more decayed, and to prop her up on every side, lea●t she reel hither or thither. I call it reeling or staggering, when by our negligence and ignorance, we suffer ourselves to be overcome with every fond opinion, conceit or manner of life that takes us in the head, and to give her armour and weapons, as well to defend as to vanquish her enemies that seek to make her yield, which we may easily do by the true knowledge of good from evil, and not by fraud & frequentation of the world. Or rather (if it be tolerable in me to tread a little out of the Philosopher's tract, & speak the truth) we aught to enforce ourselves, to deface & extinguish the vice of the second nature by faith, & to re-enter into the pureness & cleanness of the first: which the Philosophers (as I have said afore) known not, as we do, and better may, if we open the gate to him that saith unto us: Behold I am at your door and knock thereat, to them that open I will enter, and eat with them and they with me.  
There is nothing that doth sooner change the affection and condition of man's life: or (to speak more plainly) our nature, than company. This similitude & resemblance, that all men take one of another by the capable conceit of reason, is of so great force that like as the more sort be, the rest will seek to be like unto them. And though some delight to be contrary in manner of living, to the place & country they are in, the reason is, they have seen others do the same where they have been, which they follow: I deny not, but among many there are found, that without the example of others, do strange things of themselves, not accustomed any where: and if such acts ● honest and not repugnant to reason, they are to be commended though the multitude millike them: who esteem that only to be well and wisely done, which is most common among them, and most people use: counterpaysing virtue and wisdom, with small trifles, supposing such as govern themselves contrary to their order of life, to be fools: not considering which government is best. To eschew this public reproof, the ancients have said, we must live according to the manner of the Country that we are in, which is to be understanded only in outward gesture and indifferent causes. For they will us not, if in what Country soever we be, is used any custom contrary to virtue or reason, to approve and allow the same. Therefore we desire still to follow others in their actions, as though virtue remained in the vulgar people's doings, when there is nothing in the world so ignorant, so blind, and so undiscrete, as the people: who without judgement, wanting all consideration, and clean void of reason, do pursue and approve their first determinations: and that if their doings, orenterpryses fall out well, it is fortune: even as a blind man should wander in a dark unknown place, none would say he did it by clearness of his sight, but at adventure. For this cause, the laws have forbidden seditious companying and unlawful assemblies, for that the most part of men are evil, perverse, and subject to their appetites and foolish affections, so as the terrible and monstrous meeting of the vulgar sort, do commonly conspire, and debate of mischéenous matters. Cicero pleading for Cn. Plancus, was accused of public bribery, for that in the election of the Aediles, his part was preferred before one named Lateranensus, a man notable virtuous, and of an honourable house: after he had showed in popular election, the favour of the people to be more of value than the dignity of the person, which they regard not: there is (says he) neither counsel, judgement, reason, or discretion in the people: and our predecessors were ever of this opinion, that the devices, determinations, & deliberations of the common multitude should rather be dissimuled than allowed. Bring then conversant in the world, and familiar in worldly causes, approving the vulgar opinion of others, we shall easily accustom ourselves to do that is evil. For so soon as the small sparks of virtue be extinguished in us, and that we abandon or leave to follow the fashion of the Court, we shall become expert masters in evil: so apt & capable we are to learn it (as Juvenal saith) Quoniam dociles imitandis Turpibus ac praais omnes sumus.  
This custom to do evil, and thus to live, so changeth and altereth our nature, not knowing good from evil, as it makes us neither to covet the one or shun the other: we accounted good, and prefer to be the sovereign good, that which best pleaseth us, & is allowed good in the world: and in the felicity & delight of men, we repose and determine our virtue. For the virtue of man consi●●eth not in that which is only good of itself, following the opinion of Philosophy: but in that which seemeth to them good, & is no other than a certain manner of living, or rule in life. And since it is divers, according to the diversity of Countries & people, as in times past were sundry sects of Philosophers, we will treat of that which is most allowed, & embraced (for that it is more masked and disguised than the others) which is Courtly life. The knowledge whereof, we may aptly call in these days Philosophy. And this I mind to treat of, because that they that know it & can use it, are counted wise men and Philosophers.  

The definition of this Philosophy.  
Our new and moral Philosophy may thus be defined: A certain & sound judgement, how to live according to the good grace and fashion of the Court. I am sure this definition cannot be pleasing to every one: for some professers of Arts, which peradventure more subtler & according to the stoics manner, touch things nearer, will say unto me, that the same order of living can be nothing less, or farther unlike to the property of Philosophy: for all Philosophy consists in the knowledge of secret & hidden causes, and in that which no ●ye can discern. But to live Courtly, or according to the manner of the Court, consists in certain small humanity's, and chief in outward appearances: whereunto I will answer, that the minor is not true: for though a Courtier may be known by his countenance gesture, and behaviour (which is our Philosopher) as they may all other kind of people, yet the true science consists not only in the same. But rather it is impossible for any to govern themselves so well, to have a Courtly grace & entertainment, if they perfectly understand not the opinions of the Court. For (as their master Aristotle saith) all actions & operations proceed of true understanding & knowledge: and how may we be singular in that which we understand not? None therefore can be a good Courtier, unless he understand what pleaseth best & is most liked at the Court: & to give Beso los manos, after the Spanish manner, to embrace with low reverence, and to make a brave countenance, with other such like, sufficeth not: as I may aptly apply for example, our masters of Arts, who have mouths to kiss, arms to èmbrace, and faces to countenance, & can do all this well: yet were it strange to see one of them in his old girded gown furred with white, his burned pantofles, & his night cap of freeze, to fall on dancing & sporting among fair Ladies. How he would court it with them, how he would please and entertain them, & how he would ravish their bartes or allure them? when neither his wanton look, or smiling cheer, his humble courtesy, nor low embracing, (though they would suffer it) would serve him among them▪ if he be reputed wise, or well learned. And why so? Because those reverences are not well pleased▪ & beseem not a man of judgement and knowledge, too please such company. For if he did, he would be otherwise appareled, and muster in gallanter manner: he would frame a courtly countenance, and seem gentle, modest and pleasant, preparing his spirits to speak and understand nothing but merry & gladsome purposes. And thus finely furnished with his little Page in place of his poor & ragged scholar, he might peradventure be welcome. Let us then maintain and hold this for a maxim or principle, that to govern ourselves according to the Court, we ought and must have the true understanding of the opinions of the Court, & virtues of the same, which obtained, will make us in all our actions to be comely, honest, and ventuouse, and to be esteemed grave, wise, and sound of judgement: from the which proceedeth this Decorum generale, general comeliness, that Cicero speaketh so much of in his Offices: & sayeth, that it may better be conceived in imagination, than uttered by cunning: which we may now term the good grace of every one, whereof we will treat more hereafter. So that if any would endeavour themselves to do such things, and want the true knowledge hereof, they shall fail of their purpose, while supposing to win honour and praise, they may 'cause themselves to be derided of every man, as is commonly seen in these rude youths, & skilless minions of the Court, great companions & wooers of the City, Counterfeit Courtiers which simper it in outward show, making pretty mouths, & marching with a stalking pace like Cranes, spitting over their own shoulder, speaking lispingly, & answering singingly, with perfumed gloves under their girdles their buskins pinked & cut, their short cloaks, their little caps, their hear curled after the manner of Caesarea, sometimes a little long lock turned up like a pig's tail between their temples & the ear: And in this attire, with a word or two of French, Italian, or Spanish, which they carry in their budgets, they dare devise with any noble person of the affairs of the realm, & pronouncing with a majesty, how the king hath showed great favour to such a gentleman. Of these it may be said, as heretofore was said of the Philosopher, he hath a fair beard▪ shave him, & take away all his wisdom. So take from these minions these kind of habits or apparel which I have described, and you shall find them beasts, dolts, louts and clowns. But though you do not, those, whose eyes are of reasonable judgement, can discern them well enough.  
AFter we have thus given the definition of our Philosophy: & showed both the argument & reasons, we have to call these causes so defined Philosophy: It seemeth very meet, to speak of the effect thereof, which is virtue. For the end of Moral Philosophy, is grounded only on virtue: whereunto none can attain, but by the mean of this science. And I believe without searching any further, or making so many distinctions of Genus & Species, as the over scrupulous and curious have done, that in taking one part of our former definition, we have the same of our virtue. The which by a certain and short division, in form of a description we shall plainelyer and better show hereafter. Virtue is a manner of living according too the manner of the Court, and differeth from the Philosophy of the ancients, in that their virtue (as I have said afore) is to live according to the iustinct of Nature: and ours is too live according too the manner of the Court. And even as it was anciently affirmed, that if we follow Nature and do no more than our natural reason showeth us, we should never do evil: so, if we follow the manner and customs, in due and true order of the Court, we shall ever do that is seemly, good, and well. For who is so rash, foolish, or mad, that will say any thing is evylidoone, which is done by a Gentleman Courtier, well instructed. May we not then call them beasts, and dolts, which are ignorant of the price and value of our Courtly virtue? It makes me remember the old Atticque, who understood not the phrases of an eloquent Orator, when he spoke a word most meet and well placed too the behoof of the poor beast: he scroned him for his labour. The property of ignorance is too brutish and intolerable, who as they are not content with that they cannot do or devise any thing of themselves: so will they not regard or esteem that for well which the wise and learned do say. Hereof it is that Cicero speaketh so much in his oration pro A. Cluen. nigh too the midst. Therefore seeing the Court and courtly countenance is the only rule whereby and whereupon we must guide and frame our life, it is not to be marveled at, if good wits wellborne, and desirous too attain to this perfection of virtue. do earnestly ask, and diligently inquire of comers and goers from and too the Court for news: What do they? What say they? What manner of living is there now among them? What sorts of apparel, what sports, what fashions newly forged? who is best welcome, most regarded, and in greatest estimation? who is most brave? who is the trimmest dancer, the pleasantest deviser, and the best vawter? what authors are most allowed, what books read they, what songs carrieth the brute? And a thousand other like demands. For how should we else now know the mean of living with the good precepts and doctrine of the ancient Philosopher's paste, and chiefly of those that are not written, or of such whose books are partly lost, as Pythagoras, Socrates, Cratippus, and others, and of the Noble & valiant Romans: if it were not had from tellers of tales & carriers of news. Leave of then to reprove our English men, & to say, that it were requisite and needful to place certain people in highways, that should have none other occupation, but to report & tell news too those that pass by: why should their vehement desire (not curiosity) to understand news, which I greatly allow, be any way reproved or touched? And even as the good and famous lives of our elders, whose examples do greatly stir us up to virtue, would be profitable for us, if by writing we should know them, (which is the principal argument whereby Cicero showeth the benefit and utility of letters, in pleading for the Poet Archias) so how could so many wise and honest Philosophers of the Court, serve too the example of those that never saw them: were it not for the reporters and blasers of news? And further such reports encourageth, even those that are spoken of too endeavour themselves too do better: for the philosophy whereof we treat, importeth not the same that the ancients doth: who would have us, without any hope of honour too embrace and follow virtue for the love of herself: but that we should or ought too live virtuously, to the end to obtain▪ honour and reputation, as well too ourselves, as to our posterity, whereof it is said Virtutis merces gloria: Honour is the guerdon and reward of Virtue. And truly I believe, if other testimony might have been had of Cicero's conscience (whom I name so often for the excellency of the man) than by his own writings: we should found, that in troth honour made him attempt and execute many things, especially he above all the other Romans: which it appeareth he could not altogether so covertly conceal, by this place last alleged. What shall I say of poor Ovid, when he was in exile in that barbarous country of Scythia near the Sea coast? having there no company that would commend him when he had made any verses, as they did when he was at Rome in his bravery and full of prche conceits? he had there no longer courage to do any thing, for his pleasant vain left him, as he doth excellently write to Severus de Ponto.  

Impetus ille sacer, qui vatum pectoranutrit  
Qui prius in nobis esse solebat, abest   

The heavenly force that fraughtes with store  
of skill, each Poets prudent head  
(Which homely harbour eft before  
was wont with me to take) is fled.   

The reason hereof followeth after.  
Excitat auditor st●dium, laudataque virtue  
Crescit, & immensum gloriacalcar habet.  
Hi● m●● cui recitem? etc.   

The ear to study stirs,  
Each virtue praised grows,  
Each glory gaineth spurs  
As gained glory flows.   
Let us conclude, that the commodity of true reporters and faithful counters of news, is great, necessary and profitable to good life. But to return to our purpose, the virtue whereof we speak, is wholly set and placed in the court: even as the same of the ancients is placed in nature: which we may more better and perfitlier understand, if in following the precepts and order of such Philosophers as are lest scrupulous or preci●e, we divide it into four hinds▪ as Wisdom, justice, Magnanimiste, and Temperance, which are the four fountains or springs from whence proceedeth the perfection of honesty. And though they be so well linked together, that the one can not go without the other (for who will call any virtuous, be they never so profound and wise, if they be not true and just?) and that the four together and not one alone, make a man to be accounted wise: yet the division and partition is not altogether unprofitable, to the end that by ● certain disposition so framed, we may the easilier judge to what part or place of bonestie every action aught to be referred, to instruct the rude and learners. For in all sciences, it sufficeth not alone to understand the Art: but also we aught to have the Method to teach as Cicero saith, de le gibus. Non fol●● scire 〈…〉 est, sed quaedant est ars etiam docendi▪ It is better therefore to speak distinctly, and by order of every one of these several kinds (whereof virtue is composi●●s of an harmony) than by undiscrete order or rash confusion, to speak generally of virtue.  
Yet before we enter into private or particular judgement of virtue, and the better to findeth ●ay● into this pleasant Garden, where grossett that great and fair tree in whose top ●●● is placed: it shall be very 〈◊〉 we keep one path, as upon a plank or brooge, and ●olde this for a principal poyute that followeth. The ancients among other precepts of their Philosophy: the ●●silyer to set forth and make known their virtue, would at the beginning give this for a maxim, Nos●●●● ipsum: know thyself, affirming, that if by this mean a man once knew himself, the should find something in him like to the Gods: the which participation with the deity, aught to bridle him with shame from doing evil, and prick him forward to do well. And there is in this short sentence, and under these two words, much matter of great efficacy and force: for the better understanding whereof, I will discharge myself by Cicero, in the end of his first book of laws. And whereas ours Philosophy springs from an other fountain than there's which proceedeth only out of nature, and ours of the contentment and pleasure of men: So are the ways sundry to find the diversity of these two. I think it good therefore that to come to this perfection of our virtue, in stead of knowing ourselves, we aught to see and know the world▪ for after a p●rfite judgement of the whole, we shall the better understand one part. And when we have the knowledge of sundry fashions of living▪ the contrariety of some, and the di●orsitie of others, it giveth an entire and true understanding of this: and further, amongst all other the excellency of this will s● mightily draw, and so strongly allure good wits and gentle courages, that all other orders of life l●●t and shaken off, they only will follow this, which is the fashions of the Court. But to the ●nde it may be understanded, what I call seeing of the world, it is not to mount on horseback, and ride from hence to Paris, and from thence to Rome, from Rome to Mount Synay, from Mount Synay to seek S. Patrikes Purgatory, and from thence to the Antipodes, and so to the Cannibals. For to see the world, is not to see many buildings or countries, or to pass sundry Seas, though it be some what to the purpose, and that by it may partly be known the same I speak of: yet I mean, seeing of the world is to understand the custom, living, and manners of sundry nations, with their properties and faculties, and the conversation they use one to the other. And thus may we do and not travel far for it, as being in some famous and notable City (whereunto is great resort of divers strangers) we may make a perfect impression in our myn●●s of that we see, and sometimes, it is otherwise attained unto by reading in books. T●e proof whereof is perceived by sundry, whereof some have passed most part of the world, and mustered in all the Ca●pes that have been in many years, they an accounted to us the platforms of Castles, ●arts, and Churches, ●he situation of 〈◊〉, the description of countries, and other notable things, as much as is possible to ●● t●ld●, and as the eye may at any ●i●● f●●: others that h●●s their whole life time remains at the Court, at London, at Paris, at V●nice, at R●ome, at Lions, at ●ntwery, and such frequented Cities, celebrated with most resort of people: are notwithstanding very beasts, and have no more knowledge than a poor peasant, which never was ●●t of the sight of his parish steeple, saving that they can play on the bit a little better, and march more delicately and stately. The reason is, for that the one sort are so abashed & astonished at the sudden change of those neweities and rare devices they see in strange countries, which seems to altar in a moment, that the judgement of their sprights is thereby so troubled, as it cannot conc●●●e the perfection of any thing right: where at they are so lightly moved, as they resemble brainless fools, that run so fast through the ●●reat they regard not what they see, where they are, nor what place it is they be in. And the others are so accustomed with the sight of ●ne only thing, that this custom and familiarity of daily seeing it, doth so weary & dull their minds, that they take no he the of them, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or accounting more of it any way at all, than of that they never see, Hereof it is, that Cicero speaketh so much in the. 11. book de Natura Deorum, giving this reason, why the Atheists did not acknowledge that there was but one God by his works, seeing the heavens, the planets & stars, the earth, the elements, & other wonderful works of his, saying: Sed assiduitate quotidiana & consuetudine oculorum assuescunt animi, neque admirantur, neque requirunt rationes earum rerum, quas semper viderunt, perinde quasi novitas ipsa nos magis, quam magnitudo rerum debeat ad exquirendas causas excitare. Which is to say: that our senses are so dull and glutted, with that our eyes do daily see and behold, as it is no marvel to us, neither do we consider how it comes to pass, or how it was made, nor who is the cause, as though the rareness rather than the greatness or excellency of any thing should make us the more to wonder. It is then the mind and imagination of man only, that seethe and understandeth any thing in his perfect kind: the which we should daily stir up, and so accustom with good purposes, that it decay or rust not in us: whereby seeing and discerning with judgement the manners & living of all nations, we may the easilier and trulier knows ours: And by the same understanding come to the perfection of our virtue. For the good credit and praise whereof, I may boldly say and affirm, that there is no easier mean, nor pleasanter manner of living than in dure Philosophy: As for the world passed I list not to meddle withal, nor search how the ancient Philosophers (whose doctrine serves little to our purpose) found or liked it in their days. But sure I am, that time hath ever since, brought his alteration. And as touching death the dissolver of their Philosophy, to expel the fear of him, they have spoken marvelously, and in most of their works have prescribed the despising of death unto us: yet in my opinion it could not but greatly gree●e them: for the ground and foundation of their profession, which is nature, was clean put out and cut off by it. I report to Moni●pus in Lucian, who viewed all that past the flood Acheron to bell: and saw none but that bashed and were astonished in the going in, except Diogenes, which did nothing but se●ffs and jest at all things: who as he ever contemned life, so was he never seen fearful of death at any time. Most true it is that Socrates far off, had a good courage and seemed to despise it, but when he came to the wicke●, he changed colour as well as others. Let us now proceed to the purpose, and speak of our virtue in her several kinds by order, without confusion.   

Of Prudence or wisdom.  
THis noble Troy wherein (as I have ●aide) our virtue is seated, hath four arms or branches, whereby we must ascend & elimb up unto her: the first principal & chief branch we call Prudence, which consists in a skilful judgement and knowledge of true things. For it is v● possible that by our daily doings, we can well please the world, if we know not thoroughly what we do. From this knowledge proceeds the understanding of all Arts and liberal Sciences, whereby we become right Courtiers: As of Music, the playing on the 〈◊〉, the 〈◊〉, the Citrone, the Harp, the Corne●, the Flute, the Virginals, the Vial, and other sweet musical instruments Also to dance all manner of dances: as the double & simple bra●les of Burg●n●e, Po●●owe and Champanay, the ba●e dance, the Almaigne, the ●allyard▪ the 〈◊〉, and infinite others, The 〈◊〉 to compose devices, Posts, pleasant purposes, Songs, So●●e to, and 〈◊〉, or arborous Lame● factotum, in pro●●, verse, or rhyme, very 〈◊〉 and in ●ragie all 〈◊〉, as 〈◊〉 the languishing pain● of a servant 〈◊〉 in ●●pleasure, and evil▪ ●warded of his 〈◊〉: Further, it is singular good, to have some pretty sprinkled judgement in the common places and practises of all the liberal sciences, chapped up in hodgepodge together, out of the which we may still help ourselves in talk, with apt devices at assays, to have substance and matter to treat of, and encounter with all manner of things, and no mo●e. Also to have store of histories, to pass the time meet for any company, and with the more assured cunning to couch our credit, it shall not be amiss to interlace our discourses with certain sudden lies and inventions of our own forging. Likewise the knowledge of divers and sundry languages▪ as the spanish, the French, the Italian▪ the dutch, and others: to the end that in all these several tongues, we may salute, reioy●e, wonder a●, exclaim upon, disdain, skerne, and ●●o●te whom we will. The knowledge of Fence, of vatting, of Tennis, of dancing, and other sports of exercise: And some understanding of the state and affairs of the Realm●, as of wars, of practises, of ambergris, and how we may honestly robb●, deceive, and make our best profit. And withal, ●ertayne other small petty practises and traffics, that are used in the world, in which every one cou●ts to excel, for the co●●●n●able consideration that comes of it. On the contrary, such as are ignorant in these faculties, and will not endeavour themselves to have some smack or smell in every one of them, are beasts, dolts, and values. And for that Virtue is the mean between too bites, as it is commonly in contrary occurrences: when the two extremities are known, the midst is easily found, which is our vert●e. Prudence then (as we have said) is the perfit ●ath way and judgement to all the arts afore spoken of, wherein is to be understanded, that I measure this perfection, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to the ●i●●ure, but reputation of the Court. And he, who is so thoroughly expert in the sciences, that ●e knoweth thereby how to advance his credit and honour, is po●●●te, and worthy to be called wife. But this mean (that I speak of) is so hard to keep, that there are few which decline not to the one side or the other. Some believing well of themselves, that they are singular in these arts, and yet want the true tra●e to begin, weigh things lightly, regarding neither place time, nor counsel: whereupon they are accounted wilful & ra●●. Others that would be esteemed more grave & sage th● the rest, do muse & break their brains with trifling folly's which serve to no purpose, and there abouts spend inestimable pain & time: & these are too curious. Take therefore the mean between both, and you shall come to the true and entire knowledge of things honest and necessary: and so you have our virtue. From temerity and rashness it is not needful to disuade any by moral reasons: for there are so many infected with this folly, and their wilfulness wins them such contempts in the world, as they are noted and scoffed at of all men: and I believe the wife beware by them since they know the remedy. Walk one night through Paris, and you shall find a company of young gallants, some brave and in good order, and others smoothly combed for the purpose, courting and wooing their Ladies: and for that they are so unskilful how the knowledge of this Philosophy may bring them into their mistress favour, believe of themselves to be passing excellent and singular good players on the Lute and Gittern, and do nightly walk the streets before their lovers gates, tearing the poor strings of their instruments, as it were in despite of Mercury. Their mistresses ●● of ●o ●ylde nature (some such there are) that they accounted this the greatest glory & most delight in the world, to hear how their amorous servants, with sundry sorts of music present their loving obedience. As it is said of a Dame in Rhone, who to try the loyalty of her Lover, made a cross with chalk on her chamber door, and enjoined him penance, nightly to come and kiss it, who was so devout that he thought it sacrilege to break ty●e with his mistress: till some merry mate spying and pitying his incessant pain, to further his devotion, mending the workmanship of this relic with such suppling substance a● the poor penitent, having both his nose and lips par●ell gilded withal, gave over his Pilgrimage for ever. So these pigeons held thus by the nose, and fed peradventure with a farewell from some kind Mistress, who knows how to continued their folly: do now and then meet with odd remembrances. As when their haunt happeneth to be where dwelleth some brave philosopher of the court, whose delicate ears cannot endure so great injury done to Orpheus, by their disordered sir a pi●g and crowding, do bliss them out at their windows with a pifpet, perfuming both the players and their instruments, in such sweet manner, as the gallants are not herded of in a month after. Some other supposing themselves perfect dancers, for that they have herded say it is an excellent grace not to seem to have care or to think of their dance, do in dancing before noble damsels, frame their countenance with a counterfeit modesty, and letting their cape slip off the one shoulder in show their gay jerkins or doublets, keeping ever this good mean, that it may be supposed they deliver their trips and tricks easily, without labour or regard of their dance, by little and little lets it fall off on the chamber flower: And thus the gallants glorying in their own shadows, tread their two simples with a double trick, and believe they have done singular lywell, I leave to common conjecture, how the lookers on do laugh at it. Another poor fool, yet a Gentleman of countenance, who thinks himself learned in languages, traveling by the way, and taking up his lodging where lieth a Gentleman Italian, for that he will seem to have language, salutes him with Bonne journey, although it be v●ry late: the Italian supposing him in a mockery to pronounce Bougeronne, without demanding any more, draweth out his ripler: our minion mated to see this sudden fury, not knowing the cause, is compelled to defend himself: & so they are doth in danger the one to maim or mar the other upon this fond & foolish quarrel. Poor souls have patience. & consider how your ignorance makes you no better than brute beasts. And if I dared speak of Orators, who suppose of themselves to have double judgements in all manner of sciences, for one little word that they would perfectly to be understand and eloquently utter, being of small consequence, will travel so far about for it, that some of them are never able to come to their matter again. And touching Advocates and lawyers, who will seem with their store of law to carry all before them, when they understand neither the point, but, nor mark of the cause whereunto they should tend their talk: which the good schoolmaster Quintilian doth declare: for after (says he) they have gravely with a long preface pleaded in latin and french jumbled together, their client's case, in the end Parturiunt mentes. etc. that is, Huge mountains travel with young, and at length bring forth a silly Mouse. They open the principal places, & after compare the laws, doctors, chapters, & camnons together: yet commonly they fortify that part most which is least assaulted, & suddenly sometimes overthrow themselves. Cepasius maior a Roman, whom Cicero painteth so gallantly pleading for Cluencus, was a cunning doer herein.  
None can sufficiently declare the great injuries and other inconveniences that chanceth in enterprises of importance, as in the feats of war and policy, in merchandise, in physic, and divinity itself, through this rashness: for example, rash Tilers oft break their own necks. And to conclude, there are so many examples of rash, brainsick, and headstrong people, that their vice is so noted, as it needs no more reproof. The remedy to avoid the falling into the fault of rashness, is to consider of all causes not suddenly, but with discretion, deliberation, and good council.  
The other vice and extremity of Prudence, is Curiosity (as we have said afore) which is no less dangerous than this last we have treated of, yet is it much more painful: for the rash man executes his determinations and purposes without study or judgement, the curious man with great circumstance torments himself day and night, and both of like substance and profit. The great Philosopher Plutarch in a certain treatise, wherhe defineth what Curiosity is: compareth the curious man to a householder a very evil husband, who hath ever his nose out at his window, viewing and noting the doings and government of other men, and not regarding nor having eye to his own family, whose servants and varlettesin the mean time do spoil and rob him within his doors. That man is double blind in his own evil, that killeth himself with others rares, traveles, and toils: and yet his business no whit the sooner done. We will call him Curious in our courtly Philosophy, that breaks his brains in searching the secrets of such Arts and sciences, as serve too no purpose for the instruction of our life according too virtue, that is too say, according too the manner of the Court. Let us then consider how far such a one swerveth from Prudence or wisdom: yet there are many in these days that tread the steps of the ancient Sages, and thereby seek too attain to this true and perfect virtue (as they call it) which is lodged so highly and stately, and in a place so hard and dangerous to come too. You shall see some such curious men in the Court, solemn, sad, and melancholic, that will not eat but at prescribed hours, they will not speak but when it pleaseth them, they will not laugh for the Pope, nor be subject too any Prince or Lord, be he never so great: ever contrarying & misliking of that which others do: and to conclude, they are not pleasant to any person. To what end or purpose serveth this great curiosity, unless it giveth occasion too the world, too call them precise fools and servants to Signior Monarch? when shall they with their glossed hypocrisy obtain the favour and good reputation of honest Gentlemen and civil Courtiers? never. If another Diogenes should come among them, with his staff and his wallet, blowing and supping his wortes in his tun, would not the Pages roll him up and down? But if he were a Minippus, or Friar john of Saint Anthony's order, they would praise him better. There are to be found infinite numbers very curious in thousands of small follies, most unprofitable and serving to no purpose, & yet will seem great wise men & of singular knowledge: as prognosticators, Soothsayers, Magiciens, and Alkumistes, notwithstanding these last have been of late, and yet are welcome and well allowed of some for the time. But I believe their credit will not have place long. It sufficeth to know so much of their sciences, as may serve too pass pleasant discourses among company, and no more. For the rest, it is nothing to our virtue, but rather hindereth and letteth from attaining the true & honest mean that should bring us to the perfection thereof. And thus you have the sum of that which in our Philosophy is called Prudence, or Wisdom.   

Of justice.  
Justice being next and advancing herself in her order, is the same unto the which we must refer all our other conclusions, & without the which the whole hath no part in virtue. For to what end or purpose doth the knowledge of any art or science profit us, if the same be learned only for fraud and deceit? How may we justly call or account any of a noble heart and invincible mind, able too front all fortunes, if he employ and endeavour himself to harm and injury others? Are not modest men and those that dawnte their appetites, and subdue their affections to reason, worthy to be termed just? without justice no virtue could continued, stand, or should be supported Therefore we aught to take great pain, & employ all our studies too the true knowledge of her. And for that she is of so mighty a majesty as her branches cannot in brief definition be comprehended, we will in some sort describe them. I am not altogether ignorant that the vulgar opinion of justice is a sure & perfect mind, to give and do to every man, that belongeth unto him: which truly is meet & very requisite. But since it seemeth unto me, either that it comprehendeth much more, or else that it aught not (which belongs unto it) to be understanded so generally, as the same shall need more exposition or explication than justice herself, I mean not to use it for a definition. For a beginning or principle it is a true maxim, as Cicero sayeth, & to be considered of, in the whole deduction of justice: That it is very good, not to injury or wrong any. & I think for the perfect accomplishment of this virtue, it sufficeth not only to injury no person (as we will show hereafter) but we must also endeavour ourselves to do good to others: yet must we not understand, that in doing no good where we aught, though we take nothing from him that is his, we do him wrong: that were a subtle supposer, & such captious opinions are damnable. For we say not that to leave pleasuring of him whom we very well might pleasure, is doing him any wrong The justice whereof we writ, may be divided, though hardly, into Legal & Moral: whose difference cannot without great difficulty be known, for the nearness of affinity that is between them, unless we make some division, and treat of them severally, to the end it may be discerned wherein they be contrary, and wherein they agree. All justice be it Legal or Moral, is divided in two kinds: whereof the one property or kind is Commutative, & the other Distributive: And I believe in my opinion, that out of this last Distributive, Cicero hath drawn liberality, which he makes & affirms to be one part or member of justice, in his offices. Under these two kinds of justice, is confirmed, included, & consists the whole acts & doings in the mutual society of man's life. This is the same virtue that is said to be the theatre or place of humane fellowship, under the which all people are bound & joined one with the other, & by the which every one is warned from dividing & separating themselves asunder out of this company. Notwithstanding, after the time that the good disposition and affection of men, proceeding only of nature, was overthrown and corrupted (as I have said at the beginning) and that the Goddess Astrea had left the world, for that mankind began to divide, scatter, and leave the one the other (as ovid doth excellently describe in his Metamorphosis) and that this society and conversant companying of men lost familiar fellowship, clean contrary to the will and intent of him that placed them here: It hath been and is needful to give them reins, & bits, to bridle, bind, hold in, and entertain them together: which are the laws Civil, whereby such men as at the first of their own natural accord, were good, just, and loyal, are now constrained to follow justice, not herself, for she hath left and forsaken the earth, but one so like her as may be. And those that live and govern themselves in such orderly sort, as the laws cannot reprehend them, nor any way touch them, we say, to have in them justice Legal: the which how much it is different from this first justice, which was before the giving and constituting of laws, and that which is the same of the Ancient Philosophers, in whose place ours is succéeded, I leave for this time too think of. Notwithstanding I may say thus much, that the laws Civil forbid all offices, so far only as they are born, nourished, and reign among men. But the Philosophers forbid all that they imagine in their minds too be contrary too reason: which commandments are over straight and rigorous. This argument is Cicero's (and therefore I will not seem too deceive him) in his Offices, where he sayeth: Aliter leges, aliter Philosophi tollunt astutias: Leges, quatenusmanus tenere possunt, Philosophi, quatenus ratione & intelligentia. Now further to our purpose.   

Of Justice Legal, and of the Laws Civil.  
Legal justice, cometh of observing the civil laws, the keepers whereof are called just, and good: which hath been heretofore divided in Commutative and Distributive: wherein we have followed the opinion of the ancients, and also of Melancton, that Noble parsonage and best Philosopher in our time, as appeareth in one Epitome, which he made of Moral Philosophy, which notwithstanding is contrary to this. In this division is comprised all that our Counsellors and law makers have written: whose volumes, studies, traveles, and works being gathered together, have made an entire and perfect body: yet there have been many good doctors, that have written sundry matters, which smell neither of Commutative nor Distributive. The Commutative consisteth in causes touching contracts, titles, obligations, and actions: and consequently in the right of any, too know who useth or enjoyeth that he hath rightfully or no: who may contract or bargain, and wherefore we may contract or no: Of contracts, some are voluntary, as buying, selling, ●●ring, lending, giving, and others, of the which doth also proceed supposed contracts, whence cometh the right of succession. The others are compelled or constrained: as all crimes and offences: so that most part of the Civil laws are comprehended in Commutative. And it is called Commutative, for that the first kind of contracting and bargaining, which was then in custom and usage, was com●●tation or exchange: For at the beginning, before this poisoned infection of money was forged, the good people of the world did change that which they might spare, for that they wanted, (and as Homer saith) there was no talk of buying nor selling, for the price and estimation of profit that grew by the customable increase of contracting & bargaining was not yet known to them: but after they had entered the entrails of the earth, and broken up the bowels of their first mother, and that this thrice mischievous, insatiable, execrable, and greedy famine of Gold and Silver had assaulted and vanquished the hearts of men, strait way was found the glutted gain of practice by traffic, that exchange, permutation, & election, had no more place among them: for there was nothing so worthy, holy, godly, or religious, that could then save itself from the devouring hurlepitte of greedy gainers.  
The other part of justice legal, is Distributive, so called, for that it consists in distributing of honours, dignities, magistrateships, personages, offices benefices, immunities, exemptions, privileges, franchises, and liberties, and of all other profits bestowed on people worthy and well deserving in public causes: and also, the institution how such people should govern and bear themselves in these estates and dignities. The which Distributive, for that it is no other than the reward of virtue, I esteem to be worthy so great commendation and praise, as nothing more, and therefore at this time will touch it no further, but repose myself on that which the noble Orator Demosthenes hath said, in the Oration he made of Immunity against Leptinus, (who would have disannulled and taken it away:) where he hath so sagely and profoundly set it out, and with such wise and grave modesty showed how we should recompense and regard worthy people and well deservers. And I among the rest of the opinions, do best allow of this: for it is (sayeth he) a most fair and commendable thing, not by flattery or fraud, nor by reproach and tyranny: but rightly and justly, with our companions, familiars and like, in the laws and the City, to show ourselves among others to have deserved some dignity: which estimation and credit if you take away, take also away your Commonwealth, for so will it be without governors & government. Thus have you of the laws Civil and Legal justice, so much as serveth to our purpose.   

Of moral justice.  
Our justice, whereby we must attain to our virtue, that is to say, to be weltome and well liked every where, accounted wise, and good livers, according to the manner of the Court, is much otherwise than the same we have yet spoken of: as in some places, allowing more liberty, & in some other more strictness and scrupulousness. And for that it doth extend further than the other virtues (as we have said afore) so much is it the harder to show and name her extremities: wherein I can say no more, but affirm that whatsoever is not done according to our virtue, how, in what sort, or whose act soever it be, is no other than manifest wrong and injury. And to speak of Commutative, as concerning contracts & bargaining one with an other: this must ever be the principle or maxim, that we aught not to abuse or wrong any: yet by this is to be understanded if the injury be not covered, or held with some show, or likelihood of reason (for we are not accustomed to consider of causes so near) as what he is, or whether he be honest or not, that taketh away or withholdeth the goods of an other: For it is not only sufferable in bargaining, in buying, and selling, for every man to make his most profit, be it by fraud or otherwise, but also very commendable. For (the Lawyers say) Licet contrabentibus, invicem se d●cipere. It is lawful in buyers, sellers, and merchants, one to deceive the other. Is not that man worthy then to be noted an Idiot, and to be banished a commonwealth, who hath apt occasion to deceive or beguile his companion and mate by any honest mean, and will not do it? he learneth it not by our Philosophy, nor by the Court. We hold this generally as a great argument of our virtue: that it is tolerable to beguile, filch, and cog, and do the worst we can, so that neither law, judge, nor justice may touch or catch hold of us for it. Nemini enim facit iniuriam, qui suo iure utitur. He that makes the best of his own, and maintains his own right, doth wrong to none. And this pretert to maintain our own right, we give as a licence to do all things: wherein those that are most subtle, crafty and overreaching, are the best allowed and most esteemed of. Of whom it is said, if they own any thing they will pay it, and if any own them, they will likewise look to be well paid. And touching strifes, contentions and offences: they are accustomed with this distinction to be defined. Such as shoulder-blade out their brawls manfully by arms, (whatsoever they be, or the cause they fight for) are not only to be excused, but rather to be commended: for commonly those that maintain their matters by the sword, either defend their people, or their honour, or they are provoked and constrained unto it, so that they have ever such pretectes, or likely cloaks, under which the truth of their faults and contentions lieth hidden, and is couched so cunningly, that we see them not: also we never regard but the superficial part of any thing, and that which showeth itself unto us. As for other offences, as robberies, civil injuries, and such like private faults, they are much more reproved & condemned than the rest, for that they have not these foresaid cloaks and ordinary shadows, without the which, all crimes and offences are more damnable, by our Philosophy, than by the laws: For Philosophers ever desired a justice more strict, and a life more just, than the Laws do: likewise Gentlemen, Courtiers, and others of the Court, are not content with a prescribed life, according to the Civil law: But they will yet add thereto more. For an evil doer or guilty person, at the lest fault that he committeth, toucheth the honour of him that is offended, which is in these days the most odious and hatefullest offence that may be. For none can so slenderly harm or hurt the honour of a Gentleman or Courtier, but the combat must strait be challenged for want of further proof, so that for giving of one lie, it is permitted lawful and just to kill a man: for the reproof of vanity, and the lie, is the greatest scar and maim, that they may give to our honour. Whereby it appears what estimation we have of our honour: seeing we are allowed as well to defend our honour, as the ancients and laws themselves have allowed us to defend our lives, and not without reason: for honour and reputation is the final conclusion of our virtue, without the which our virtue were of no value. All other offences therefore are lightlyer regarded of us, than of the Laws, by reason of their cunning coverings, and pretty pretertes, whereof I have spoken afore: except our reputation be touched, for in that crime we are nearer grieved than at any other, wherein I must needs say the Laws have been too favourable. For too know what things they are that do stain our honour, they may better be thought off than spoken: yet I will say thus much before I pass any further, that touching loyalty in word, or humanity in deed toward our equals or inferiors, it is nothing so requisite in our justice as in the ancients, where upon they made their first and firm foundation: for it sufficeth us to hold and keep our word so far as the judge and Law may compel us to perform it. But to promise' without the compass and danger of action, is no other than a bravery, in well promising: whereunto is applied the common Preverbe, that the promise of a Gentleman is holy water of the Court.   

Of the second part of justice which is Distributive, and of Liberality.  
THe other part of our justice is Distributive, which Cice●o properly calleth liberality, (and reason good:) for what else is liberality, than the bestowing & distributing of honours and goods to well deserving people? wherein the aunetents did flourish, & made famous their common wealths: & surely in these days, I know no virtue so agreeable to our Philosophy, as this same. For (as I have often said) the sum of our science, and end of our virtue herself, is the glory and reputation of any man: and he which desireth it, and seeketh it, is worthily accounted wise, but he that hath it may be renowned the happiest man in this world, who shall likewise live for ever here in this world. On the contrary, they that are careless, and accounted not what is said of them, are to be thought either blockish or careless. Pythagoras letter could not in these days help us to this happiness: neither needs Seneca now to break our br●ynes any more with this song,  

Illi mors gra●is incubat,  
Qui notus nimis omnibus,  
Ignotus moritur sibi.   

Whom all men tooto well do know,  
a heavy end he makes:  
Himself yet to himself unknown  
this present life forsakes.   
For if we be not ●●ous and known, we cannot attain to the perfection of our virtue: as Claudian showeth in his Country discourse, and this gallant Ovid, that become so wise, after he had received correction. Crede mibi, bene quilatuit, bene vixit, & intia Fortunam debet quisque maneresuam.  

Believe me who so lives within  
his reach, he liveth well:  
For each man aught within the bonds  
of his own hap to devil.   

And further.  
Vive sine invidia, molesque inglorius annos  
Exige, amicitias & tibi iunge pares.   

Seek life that envy lacks  
Mixed landless life with pleasant years,  
No friendship join with lacks,  
Yet friendship frame, but with thy peers.   
I leave therefore this to those that are so deeply plunged in wisdom, who agree all with one common voice, saying that they are most sage and wise, which show themselves most meek and humble: for it is directly repugnant and contrary to our Courtly virtue. Then since honour is the mark whereat we all should tend our desire: is there any readier mean to good reputation, than by liberality to distribute our treasure too all the world: to show pleasure to all that come: to be favourable and courteous to every one: to rescue some from the Provost and Marshals, & to free others from being Gallislaves: & to keep & feed u or uj. poor knaves as ravening as wolves: to make feasts, triumphs, & banquets with open house? no truly.   

Of liberality.  
THis virtue consists in the distributing of three things in temporal goods, and this belongeth to great Lords. In reverences and honour, and that is the duty of inferior companions: and in spiritual gifts, which is the office of those that are learned. As touching the first, the principle which we aught to regard, is to use no liberality, but to such as deserve it: by whose means we may be accounted Philosophers▪ of the Court, and worthy of this reputation: To good souldidurs and men of war that know their obedience to their captain (and to such as I have spoken of afore)▪ brave Gentlemen, gallant, courteous and civil, that have their hand never from their Cap, and one knee on the ground, so serviceable, so obedient▪ with a thousand courtesies, and as many reverences: such are worthy the liberality of Princes: And not those churlish repyners, unto whom when you have given the one half of your goods, they will think still you are beholden unto them, and by circumstance refuse your courtesy, to confirm the more their glooming gravity: and as for receiving any honour or reverence of them, it is as much as nothing: yet will they not stick too malaperly to check you, and say you live ●uill, and will speak to you as to their servants. To be beneficial or do good to these surly sort, is evil done, and is an extremity of our virtue: which we call prodigality, whereof we may say with the good Ennius, Benefacta male locata, male facta arbitror. A good turn evil bestowed, is evil employed: or a pleasure done to one unworthy, is a hateful vice.  
The other maxim of our virtue is, too measure liberality according to our faculty or ability: For none aught too give so much, as he ●ee compelled to beg himself after: yet there are some of sundry opinions▪ that say without respect or regard of goods and worldly wealth, we should not lock up our liberality, for they go and come and increase daily, and that it is better to be poor with honour and estimation, than rich with villainy and reproute▪ But I am not of their opinion. For the ancients would not, that in pleasuring of any, we should so ●nable our● own state, that we should take away the ●eane and benefit from ourselves, to be able to be friendly still: we must then govern our bounty in such sort, as he doth which showeth the way to a stranger, or he that lighteth an other man's candle at his: for the teacher loseth not his knowledge, nor the candle his clearness: and I think the gravest & wisest sort of our Philosophers, will soonest agree with me in this. And further, he that is fallen in decay, although by the same he have deserved honour, & is esteemed liberal: yet will it be hard for him in his poverty, to continued that credit, and maintain that reputation: for we ordinarily disdain the poor, and those that be in necessity.  
Our third Maxim is to join liberality with justice: for it is neither good, commendable nor decent, to be bountiful of that belongs to others, and (as they say) of an other man's leather to cut large thongs: wherein we must consider of that we have spoken of justice, that to withhold, or violently too keep any man's goods from him, is no other than a gentle bravery, so that the same be cloaked and covered with some likelihood of reason. For (as we have often say● afore) the semblances and apparaunces of all things cunningly couched, are the p●yncipall supporters of our Philosophy: for such as we seem, such are we judged here: for by shifts and some charge we may pervert judgements and informations with cunning conveyance, but this is strange to such as have not felt the sweetness thereof, for we keep this gear close in our budgets.  
Also we aught to regard, that in the use of liberality either we do the first pleasure, or we acquit such good turns and pleasures as we have before received: wherein when we tender and restore, we must not in any wise show ourselves niggards, near and sparing: for those obligations of thankfulness are no less with us, than if it were in a Civil cause. This is a great Argument to be observed that where we are liberal, it should be done so voluntarily, and with so frank a mind, as the name itself importeth: having regard too consider the conclusion of every Division, to the end the better too use our virtue: what we are, how able we are, and what they be upon whom we bestow any bounty or pleasure: either our Parent, Neighbour, familiar or friend, or any other such like. In all the Circumstances there is one pretexed point, that seems of so great efficacy, as it were a perfit and good love grounded on virtue: which we see to be finely flourished in Gentlemen to Gentlemen, and soldiers to soldiers, when they are all Courtiers, or of our Courtly crew, wherein it is not needful▪ nearly to regard or search the occasion, & causes of such friendship or friendly amity. For it sufficeth that upon this foundation of honesty, and Courtly civility, there be certain shadowed graces and countenances of weak love, and faint favour: which may well be called (if the term were tolerable) a fawing flattery, that tieth them together with mutual courtesy.   

Of the two other parts of Liberality.  
THe other two parts of our liberalities consist in distributing, and host wing of Duties, Honours, and Reverances▪ which belongs to inferior followers, and to the good fellowship of Courtly companions▪ And as for giving of advice and counsel▪ that belongs to the learned and lettered men, be they superiors, equals, or inferiors. Touching the first, they must ●ar●full● regard that they be not sparing, slanke or negligent, in low ●ointing and humbly reverencing▪ such as des●ru● it▪ For then men might call them either arrogant, proud, or ignorant: neither must they be prodigal to every man with their salutations, in words or deeds: for so they may be accounted deep dissemblers, flatterers, or very simple souls. As for the learned, they should have care, & partly enforce themselves to give counsel to others: yet not always with the truth, but a●●ording to the appet●●e, and pleasure of shose, they speak and give advice unto: for if they hold, follow, and affirm their own judgements and opinions, how true and good so ever they be, they shall be called obstinate fools & wilful headstrong: & so they can never come is the perfection of our virtue This is very much used in consulting with Lawyers of our right, wh● commonly frame their council according to the humour of the party whom they counsel. This is not only used at these days, but in times past Cicero did the same in his plead, as himself doth witness, in his oration for Plancus. In causis (saith he) adhibemur, ut ea dicamus, non quae nost●a auctoritate coastituantur, sed quae ex reipsa causaque due anour. They will have us in pleading, not to say at all times what seems to us good: but to speak that only which serveth the t●me, place, and people belonging to our purpose. And furthermore: Non solùm meo consilio uti consuevi, sed multum etiam eius, quem defendo, & consilio & voluntati obtempero. I have not (saith he) been accustomed to do all after my own head or judgement, but rather applied myself to the counsel, will, and opinion of my client. I see none please me more in this respect, than holy mother Church men: and not without cause, for most of them take great pain to attain to our virtue. And it should seem great injury too learning, if the ignorant and unlettered should have this virtue, too restrain their affections, to frame and accommodate themselves to the quality and condition of those they talk too, better than the learned: much like the needy Norman, that procured himself a Prebendshippe, and yet so ignorant for learning, as he could not read: kept his Hymns, Hours, and times of Service with the best: who when a friend of his see him chanting in the Chancel, & known his ignorance, asked him how he prayed, and what he said: I have (quoth he) learned the Alphabet or xxiiij letters, whereof all prayers are made, and them I daily and wholly deliver, in my singing and saying to God, who I know may make what prayers he will of them: But for the ignorant, we will speak more when we writ of modesty. And that which we have said of the liberal in their temporal goods, may serve well for example to the Clergy, in their spiritual devotions. Therefore it is needless to recite it any more. And now to the two extremities of this our virtue.   

Prodigality and Covetousness.  
THe distributing of goods & magnifical expenses, is towards us so gracious, honest, and favourable, that I know no way how to avoid the fear of excess in this virtue, which is prodigality. And on the other side, the avaricious niggard and miser is so hateful and reproachful to all men: that to shun and fly the evil opinion of the world, touching this vice, we must recoil back so far, that we become as it were somewhat prodigal. And if it be tolerable too mingle golden gain and profits of money, with honesty (which the best and wisest Philosophers passed would not do) we shall prove and find the covetous and nigarde to lose more of their goods by their misery, than they keep or get by their wretched policy. Therefore when we see a churl wealthy or rich, we aught not to say that his avarice or nearness hath gathered it: For if he were like liberal to use it, as he is pining to preserve it, he should by the same (without comparison) increase his coffers with triple gain. For as by his over much care and diligence he hath got it, so by his endless folly and fear to lose i●, he leaves to employ it to his greater profit▪ As when he sayeth,  

Fertilior seges est alieno semper in aruo:  
Vicinúmque pecus grandius uber babet.   

The fruit more fertile seems, that grows within my neighbours ground●▪  
The udder of my neighbour's beast, with milk doth more abound.   
This is the cou●touse cause, he will buy no more lan●s nor beasts, but miserably hoard and bide his money in the ground, or lock it up for allurement to thieves. For even as the jealous fear of fond and foolish husbands, makes their wives the more sought unto, showing by their suspicion sign of some occasion, either that she is willing, or that she loves not hir husband, or else some other cause which makes and mouns young men to enter in assured hope of obtaining their desire. So likewise, the pining pain, and so nudging solitariness, which we see the miser and covetous endure too keep and guard his goods and treasure, with his head still in his cubbarde, and his nose ever in his coffer: stirs up the hungry thief, and shows him, where plenty is to be purchased by his pyking policy. Whereof it is commonly spoken: Malus est custos diuturnit atis metus, He that fears, loseth. And ovid writing to the jealous, which watch their wives so narrowly, doth properly say:  

Quicquid servatur, cupimus magis, ipsaque furem  
Praedafacit: quod sinit alter: amant.   

The harder kept, the more is sought, the price doth make each thing a pray,  
The thing that others way as naught, who seeks? we wish not what we may.   
For the better example of this, I may allege the cunning varlet Strophilus in Plautus: who seeing the great pain and toil that the most unfortunate Erili●s had, in hiding his gold, carrying it sometime into one place, and sometime into another, fraught with continual fear least he should be spied, supposing there was good too be done, sought the cause, and finding the money, rob him of it. Likewise, the filth of this vice is such, that there is non● which hateth not a niggard, and are glad and desirous too do him all the displeasure that may be: so that he lacketh the grace and good will of others, whereby he might make a more profit. For (as Cicero sayeth) Rerum omnium nec aptius quicquam est ad opes tuendas as tenendas, quàm diligi, nec alienius quàm timere. There is no mean more profitable to man to make him rich, and better to guard his goods, than to deserve the favour and love of every one: nor any thing more contrary, than to have few friends, and be in continual fear. We read amongst the Romans of one named Mamercus, a rich man and of great credit, who for that he did nothing magnifically or sumptuously, whilst he was Aedile, (according too their custom) fallen into the slander and reproach of avarice and covetousness: for the which he was so evil beloved of the people, that after, he following the dignity of the Consulship, for this only cause they refused him. And if we will consider from the beginning to our time, what estimation was ther●uer had of a covetous man? what sayeth all the world of a miser? the villain will not give a glass of wine to any of credit or honesty: or (as our proverb is,) he will not parts from the dropping of his nose: he dare keep no company for fear of spending: he doth no good to himself, nor to any other: he eateth his oats in his own sack: he never feedeth but in his bosom: & many other such like hateful reproaches. In so much, that there is no Gentleman, how noble-borne ●o ever he be, that is not reputed and accounted a villain, if he give at any time never so little occasion to be seen in any thing miserable or pinching. So that I rather allow, and better agree with them, who have their hearts so noble, their minds so frank, and their spirits so glorious, that they will sooner consume their goods in braveries, pomps, and magnifical expenses, than to be slanderously touched with niggardness or misery. Covetousness commonly is hated in all people, but chiefly in Princes and great Lords, to whom it is most convenient and seeming of all others, to exercise bounty and liberality, where otherwise, the continual taking & receiving of their right from their Subjects, without giving, dispersing, and distributing again, in process of time they shall found themselves to have neither tribute to receive, nor subject to pay it. For who can better dispose of goods (which that nobleman Plato would have had common) than those that have them? How shall men of virtue and valour, good companions, and small mates, come by any part or por●ion, if there be not bountiful givers? following this opinion, some will say and maintain, that the rich & covetous are thieves, in making that private & their proper own, which should be common to all men. It is not then without cause, that this vice is so much hated of us, & banished from our company, wherein there is nothing so displeasant, as not to be glad and willing to do pleasure. And therefore, how much the infamy of it is great, so much the rather should we withdraw ourselves, and shun the chance of such extremities, even with the less of our goods, or rather (as I have said) to be reputed prodigal. For the prodigal are more excusable, without comparison, in our virtue, then the covetous. And if we will well consider of it, we shall find none so prodigal (& therefore the more reprovable) as the avaricious. For what may be greater prodigality, than to gather together, and lay up the goods of this commonalty: and to take away from a common wealth the faculty to use it, & by that mean to loose it, and (as it is said) cast it into the Sea? for if the goods of a miser be not lost from the profiting of a common wealth, at the lest for his life, I cannot tell what may be accounted more lost. For he pleasureth his friends, and benefiteth himself as much with that he hath, as with that he hath not, and his riches are to him as to others, no riches at all▪ Whereby it is spoken: Tam deest avaro quod habet, quàm quod non habet: The avaricious hath no less need of that he hath, than of that he hath not. Then if his goods serve too no purpose, neither to himself, nor in the fellowship of men: we must account it lost, and being lost, we may clearly perceive, that the avaricious and miser, is the true and perfit prodigal. But to the end we will not seem to allow unmeasurable expenses, we will give bounds, confines, and limits to liberality. Cicero in his offices saith, We aught not to give any thing, except it be either profitable or necessary. So that profit and necessity be the two bounds of this virtue, which overpassed any way, we become presently prodigal. But truly if we should thus strictly comprehend all, we seal make most part of our courtiers, & the best praised, wilful wasters, whom we not withstanding esteem very wise. For not only those which consume their wealth, or make sometimes magnificency without profit, cause, or necessity, are not alone pronounced prodigal: But this unquenche able heat, and unsatiable desire of glory, the which without all judgement and consideration constrains them to do it, is honest, ●●d cometh of so good a nature, that there is attributed unto them, a virtue more great than liberality, which is called magnificency, whereof comes this title so excellent of magnicall. And most truly when the intention and good will of any person doth find and feel that which he doth good or evil, such magnificency is much to be praised, proceeding from ●o great a love of our virtue, and from such affection too pleasure others, that they have no leisure too think of nor consider all the maxims and circumstances: the which ferupulouslye the ancients would have us observe and keep in this liberality. And further, we that do long look or much muse on things secret and hidden, but regarding the superficial part and the outward appearance of their deeds, seeing that by such magnificency they show themselves of mind the liberalleste that may be: not considering the utility, profit, or necessity, cunningly couched, and well covered over: how can we but judge of such people all good and all honour? leave we then that same Valerie the great talker of liberality, when he saith, that the two fountains from whence she comes, is true judgement and honest good will: for the ardent affection and hot desire to be praised of all men, can not discern this, nor will not be so scrupulous, to consider of circumstances so far off. Let us compare in semblable cases, the mutual love between the father and his children, and we shall see sometime the fervency thereof to be so great, that without consideration (meaning them well,) they do mar and spoil them, not having their judgement certain by reason of this overmuch affection, to discern what is good or evil for them. Is such love and friendship to be blamed with us? Is it not true affection? yes verily, although some others call it a cockering: So that if any will nearer regard the profit of the one or the other, if this amity do not earnestly appear therein, it can not be perfect. Even so let us judge of the magnifical man, who if he should consider with himself, how profitable it were for him to do that he determineth: would they not say, his deliberation smelled of miser is? and how he had great ●●are to loose that he mean● to lay out? It is not at this time only, or in these days, that our virtue hath been so measured. For do not the noble & ancient Romans glory to be atrbunted magnifical? Was it need full or profitable, to cut mountains, and to make of 〈◊〉 in the s●a a firm land? Was it requisite every morning to ●●● that came & said, god mor● owe my Lord, to give and distribute such great s●●mes of money as they did? whereof ●●●●●all doth well report. What should I speak particularly of Pomp, of the Theatres, the Triumphant Gates and Temples that he builded? Is not the magnific●ncie of 〈◊〉 known by his sumptuous gardens and galleries? For this cause only we have them as a precedent of perpetual memory, and there is none of our Philosophers that doth not with great diligence endeavour him s●●●e to imitate and follow them, chief in their Antiquities. The honour of the Romans was so great for their haught courages and magnifical minds: as all Italy is yet proud of it. And if we may after them speak of ourselves, shall we not find among us in our time, some whose sumptuous expenses have gained them great ●ame? Let us consider of the noble doctors and professed masters in our Philosophy, whom we have before our eyes for example, whom we must follow and allow in all, whose authority aught to satisfy us for reason, as well as that same of Pythagoras did satisfy h●s Disciples: he said it even so of these: they have done it, i● aught not to be argued or doubted, whether it be well or seemly done. We must understand▪ that in their liberalities, they many times consider not what is most meet, profitable, or necessary, but that their magnificency may be the more extolled. And notwithstanding that such sumptuousness are not ever good; commendable, and according to virtue: yet have they great reason so to do. For (as Theophrastes saith in his book of riches) such magnificalnesse, is the profit and revenue, that we receive of the goods we have, without the which (the necessity to live excepted) I esteem and allow as well of poverty as of riches. Notwithstanding, I know very well, that Cicero, in his second Book of Offices, liked not of it: nor Aristotle, who d●ryding us, for that we wonder to hear how that in the wars, sometimes in a besieged Town or City, we will give a ●esterne for a small vessel of water, and consider not that without necessity (having both body and mind at liberty) we accounted not to consume much money for nothing. So everyone hath his own opinion, and they be not altogether allowed and approved of us: for there is not so mean a Courtier that delights not to make some idle expenses, to the end to appear magnifical. And whereas in love matters every one principally endevers himself to seem wise, civil, and best worthy, and such we will here take him. Let us imagine the representing of two Lovers of some continuance before us, and consider among▪ all others, touching this our virtue, how they govern and behave themselves. We shall see the young gallant, that (without any consideration of profit or necessity) can not find robes richynough, nor sufficient sumpt●ous apparel for to prank himself withal▪ neither rings new made, or jewels new fashioned for his mistress: nor dainty meats exquisite and delicate though to banquet her. And she for her part, in every paint endeavours herself to do the same. And though peradventure neither the one nor the other can accomplish their whole desire, for their poor purse ruthfully plenished: yet they will so do, that their talk shall not taste or smell of any thing but all of magnificalnesse, for in this virtue consists their honour or dignity. I remember me of poor Clitipho in Terence who had a sumptuous lover and of a haughty heart, and could not wring from his father, being old, covetous, and hard, sufficient money to furnish her, used privately to complain, & would often debate alone, how he should govern with credit, the countenannce of his love, concluded thus in himself, saying: Ni●il essemihi, religio est dicere. I make it (says he) conscience to tell her that I have nothing for her. Whereby we may see, hol●● 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 was it seem covetous or needy, and yet had no mean to show himself magnifical: so much is this virtue commendable. The old miserable lover in the Comedy of Intronati, did not so, for he was bountiful in perfuming his grey bea●de, when he was at the cost to bestow a penny worth of Ce●it, to besmear himself withal: But God knows how his Varlet mocked and laughed at him. And as Ovid, writing to a covetous damfell, showing her how he could no longer love her, for that she was subject to gain and lucre, saith:  

Turpe thori reditu census augere pate●no●,  
Et facient lucro prostitu●sse suum.   

With beastly gain begotten in bed,  
To enlarge the dower thy 〈◊〉 gave,  
And set thy face with curled head,  
To show and sale to every slave▪   
Hereby you may perfectly perceive, what vigour or force there is in liberality and magnificency, to win the grace and favour of every body: yet I know there are mercenary minions, which make no little lucre of their lechery: but this must not be thought to be love, that is▪ thus lodged in their lascivious hearts. It is not evil seeming to a woman to receive gifts of her lover, though it be ill seeming for her to demand: as their good Master Ovid declareth.  
Nec dare, s●d pretium poscided ignor, & odi▪  
It offendeth me not (saith he) to give, but it grieveth me when they ask, and that mislikes me most. Was Lays of Corinth, either wife or of good grace, to demand so many Crowns of Demosthenes. he allows of it so well, that he would not after hear her speak, nor give himself to great occasion of repentance. Notwithstanding the danger is great, (and especially to people of noble minds, and affected to our Philosophy,) that the Laws civil have provided for it: Considering that it is a great interest to the common weal, to have many poor and needy Citizens: and that the riches of the Prince, consists not so much in his coffers, as in the riches of his subjects, they would that he who is seen or supposed to govern himself riot●ously, or to live so disorderly as he might thereby after become needy, should have an overseer, and not accordingly or indistinctly of him that magnifically makes unprofitable expenses: for if it were so, there would not be found in all France overseers sufficient. Thus we aught to understand this sentence, Interest Reipub ne quis re suamale utatur. It behoves the common weal to see, that none apply his goods evil. For we must think that otherwise the Laws or Princes would forbidden these magnifical expenses, as evil of itself, and not according to virtue.  
Even as one named Marcus Opius made a Law, that the Roman Ladies should use no superfluous apparel, nor wear at their ears any King or Gem of gold, weighing more than an ounce, as reciteth Pomponius Letus, of the laws of Rome: this law was ma●e for fear the Romans had, lest by such sundry ornaments their wives should be come lascivious. It may be also considered, of that the Emperor justinian did forbidden to some sort of people, that they should not wear certain coloured and wrought clotheses: ●s of late, the french king prohibited gentle women and Citizens▪ wives from wearing certain ornaments and attire of gold (the which the Dames of Lions did much murmur and grudge at) and all is but for the causes before mentioned: for order & policy in the distinction and difference of apparel, according to the majesty▪ and quality ●● the person▪ 〈◊〉 of great authority and force.   

Of Magnanimity.  
WE are now mounted very high, and attained near to the throne where our virtue is seated: and for that she hath reposed herself in a place hard to come to; according to this good sentence of ISocrates: Vintutis radix anara, fructus vero dulces: The root of Virtue is bitter, but the fruits are sweet and good: therefore is it, that the nearer we approach unto her, the more evil, untoward and sharp do we find the way, until we obtain the perfect place i● self: which when we have w●nne, nothing will be hard and wearisome unto us. I say this, meaning to speak of magnanimity, wh●●h is the same that makes us so strong & assu●ed, that nothing in the world (be it never so deficile or difficate,) can force or drive our 〈◊〉 to decline from the way of virtue. It is not then without cause called Magnanimity, and those that profess it and embrace it magnifical: which is to say, of a noble, bountiful, and honourable heart: For what greater excellency can the spirit possess or e●idye, t●an to be still accompanied with 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 like itself▪ And for any accident, inconvenience, or misfortune that shall happen, not to be troubled or unquieted, but so to remain and abide ever firm and constant? One great argument of the precious value of this virtue is, that amongst all other things which are common as well to man as to woman, this is only made proper and incident to men, and contrari wise, fickleness and inconstancy to women: Of the which common opinion many men are proud, and so content▪ that for this cause alone they suppose the better of themselves, and will be accounted wise: disdaining and contemning to hear the argument of a woman, as though she were a brutish and unreasonable creature: condemning their sundr●e follies, as subduers and vang●ishers of reason in themselves, when such defects of nature be in both the one and the other. The daughter of Hortensiu● a Roman Orator, hath by her singular virtues well moved, that women are capable of reason▪ ●owe he it▪ that by mean of a natural▪ weakness, which is feebled in them for want of instructions and doctrines, they have not the use of it so familiarly. Man challenging magnanimity then as proper to himself should cannot esteem it a great iniuris▪ that be should be so delicate, effeminate, variable, and inconstant? If we should see a man march through the street at noon days, in the habits and attire of a woman, would not the world mock him? And yet to know a man, without the same outward show and appearance to be a woman in deed, as was Hermaphrodites, there is nothing said of him. Wherefore do we reprove Hercules, when he shrouded himself among handmaids, but only for that he left his manly courage, and yielded to womanly weakness: with the which attire, he could never frame himself to any thing or other purpose, but to bear the distaff? It is not possible for those, who have then spirits weak and feeble in following this virtue, to attain good renown, or ●●e any valiant a●e of value, what countenance or braucrie ●o ever they make. This is she answer that Helen made to Paris, when he persuaded her to go to Troy with him, and to fear nothing, vaunting himself to be the valia●ntest and noblest warrior in the world. She seeing him so leapt and linked in love, and enchanted so far from that he would seem or professed▪ that he had no more the countenance of 〈◊〉, sa● de to him▪  

Quod bene te iactes, & fortia facta recenses, a verbis facies dissidet ista tuis,  
Aptamagis V●neri quam sunt tua corpora Mart●. bella gerant alij, ●u Pari semper ama.   

For that in bravery you your marital deeds recite,  
The truth is thus, that from your words your features differs quite,  
For Venus' fit then, than Mars doth seem to be▪  
Love Paris, and let men of force, go fight in field for thee.   
I would gladly esteem and regard love, if it were not the ground and cause of all this evil, and that it would not force and constrain the courage of man, to serve and become vassal to feminine fragilitié: or would praise greatly women, if they loved more, and delighted more in the virtues of their friends and lovers, rather than in a fort of counterfeit curiosities. But the doctrine of this great Courtisane in his Art of love can not lie: parva leaves capiunt animos: hovering minds have no hold, and light spirits are best pleased with trifling follies. There is nothing more undecent or unfitting to a man, than to be no man. I know notwithstanding, ou● Philosophy, and that good grace whereof we will speak hereafter, will not suffer us that among women we should be still Platons: nor likewise have us in every place to govern ourselves, as it were still in the company o● women. The considerations of the circumstances, as of the time, the place, the people, and others (which is proper to prudence) will keep us from this evil, wherein it is necessary to have this good grace. And the largelier to treat of this kind, to the end more clearly to show what she is: we must repeat the same so often spoken of afore, that the end of all our Philosophy and virtue (that is to live according to the manner of the Court) is honour and good reputation: without the which, I see nothing that should so much stir or provoke us to great travel, and so torment us in this world, as that. For (as Cicero faith which was not still Academious) Nullam aliam periculorum & labo●um mercedem▪ virtus desiderat, quàm laudis & gloriae: qua quadetractat●, quid est, quod in hoc brevissimo vitae curriculo tammiserènos exerceamus? Virtue will have no other recompense for her pains and dangers, than praise and honour, without the which why should we endeavour so great travel, in this short and fleeting time of our most wretched and unhappy life? Leave therefore such as speak otherwise of Virtue. Seeing honour then is the butt and mark whereunto the Sages tended their desire, and the only cause that makes man happy, should we not contemn all, neglect, despise, & forsake all other things to come to this? Yes truly. Behold here the definition of our Magnanimity to do good to parent or friend, further than the same is honourable unto us. And to fear no danger be it never so great, that should hinder any actions, whereby it may attain to this perfection. By this I mean not, that no pain should be taken to get goods, or that we should not use our pleasure, or reverence our parents, entertain our friends▪ love God, and hate the Devil: But I say and affirm, that if any of these be to hinder or less our honour, we should leave them and not regard them: for that man is not magnifical that prefereth the slendes pleasure of such small trysting things, to the great value and ●yches of honour. In this the Romans excelled, whose haughty hearts and lofty courages so much imprinted this virtue in the minds and spirits of all the Country, that yet to this day to their posterity it is a great pleasure and glory, as it may easily be 〈◊〉 by the●●●oun●●naunces, that smelleth still of liberty, a contemning of all things, a desire to achieve virtuous acts, and an uncredible patience. There is no judgement of the affections and inward dispositions of any, more certain than by the outward countenance and open show of our living. For as it is said, Abeunt studia in mores: Our studies and affections are transformed into manners. Whereof cometh our ordinary graces, gestures, and countenances, which is easily seen and known in all our acts. And though particularly e●●rye one doth enforce himself to dissemble and disguise his proper affections, as much for the ignorance of those he is conuersaun● with, as sometimes for his own imperfections which he would have secret or ●●d (wherein principally consists a good grace, as we will show hereafter) notwithstanding this dissimnlation is no practice of the affectious and opinions, common to any one Nation, Province, or Country, or to any one certain state of people what so ever. For such affections causeth in us one certain manner of 〈◊〉 (● 〈◊〉 I have said) by the which cou●n●onlye every one in his countenance will be known what he is, and from whence he is. Whereby we may well discern the italian, the French man, and the Almaigne, one from the other, and by their gestures and countenances only.  
And for as much as such opinions and manners of living generally, are the more hard to be taken from us, being so deep rooted in, us by continuance, as they are turned into nature: So much the more aught they to be esteemed, that according to the e●igent of every cause, for their honour or profit, can seem to be of any other nation, estate or condition than they are. The which we daily see do attain great reputation; and achieve their enterprises worthily: as may perfectly be perceived, in those that are spies in the wars, an example meet and sufficient for this purpose, though they in the execution be not regarded nor esteemed as they aught. On the contrary, the most● part of people, albeit they have the wisdoms to know where and when to dissemble, and that they are so magnifical and modest, as they think: to do well: yet are they masked in so many follies and fond love of their countries, and are in so great a gealosy of their doings, that notwithstanding any honour, reputation, or profit, might happen them by this dissimulation, they will still be like themselves: esteeming it a great offence, to use any fashion not in custom among them, for fear to be judged of any other nation than they are: And will be offended, if by them the stranger know not the vices and imperfectious of his country. But to return to our purpose, the Romanines have so flourished in this virtue, that they esteemed nothing for evil but dishonour: and regarded nothing for good, but honour & reputation. And although there were many Philosophers that spoke otherwise of this virtue than we do, saying that goodness & honesty consists else where, which we allow no●▪ let them know that the most part are with us, and of ours, affirming the only bounty & virtue herself to be in the good reputation of men: for the which the greatest pains, traveles, and torments, were most delyghtfull pleasures unto them. And not without cause. For if we have care too keep clean, neat, and orderly, our outward body, regarding that it be not bound ●o any 〈…〉: we should be much more vigilant, to see that our inward sprite receive no villainy touched with dishonour. Among all the remembered histories of noble and famous Ladies, I will speak but of one, named Lucrece, who to deface the little dishonour she had suffered by her ravishment, killed herself. What heart of a woman had she? was it not virtuously done in regard of her honour, to leave life, & despise death, nothing remebring the will of God? who would not (as she knew, and as the world was then of opinion) that the soul should pass out of the ●●die, without leave of him that placed it there: no ●ore than a Soldier may depart from under his ensighe ●● out of the Camp, without licence of his Captain. It is 〈◊〉 to be 〈◊〉 at, ie jealous fowls, and suspicious pa●es do commonly give their wives the picture of Lu●r●ce kill hi● self. For the example▪ (as they suppose) may strongly and strangely move them▪ and also their wives themselves have great delight to behold the same.  
We must not forget one notable point, in this virtue: For Cicero in his first book of Offices sayeth, that commonly haught the minds and invincible courages, fall into deep desire▪ of glory, and g●●●●● affection of gouernmen●e, whereby they be provoked, stirred, and occasioned to do evil▪ so as incontinent they leave and forsake this virtue. For (as we have fay●e a●ore) if she become strange, and contrary too Iustic●●▪ she is ●o better than ●y●●, boldness and 〈◊〉: yet for that we measure not justice to strictly as they have done, so mu●h the less we ought, or peekaboo fear this consequent●▪ And further, if the ●●●de of man be no●●●ftye and 〈◊〉 he ●●●ll very hardly and with 〈…〉, become magnifical▪ Fo● what is ●t that ●●●ld encourage us too contemn so many things▪ and too be strong and constant in enduring all▪ if it were not the desire and hope of glory▪ which is the only end of our Philosophy? Also who is too be found so senseless▪ blockish or void of reason▪ that having achieved any valiant act, or worthily▪ performed any notable enterprise is not glad and desirous of renowned praise? The Gods be so jealous of themselves▪ that they will and command to be incessantly▪ honoured: As Ovid writeth to C●s●● in his second book de Tristibus:  

Fama iovis superest, tamen hunc sua factareferri▪ 〈…〉 esse ivicat.   

Ay lasting is the fame of love, and yet he doth delight▪  
To give the trump new matter still, his praises to recite.   
Cicero likewise thinking of himself, and applying virtue according too his affection▪ changed his opinion▪ and acknowledged the debt: as we have noted at the beginning of this work. The desire of glory is so naturally bo●ne▪ an● nourished within our minds▪ that we ma●e well maintain and appróoue●, that th●● philosophy is in some soot grounded on Nature, as well as the same of the auncy●ntes. There is none▪ who have occasion to be praised for ●ny excellency, either by nature, accident, education, or industry, that is not willing and desirous to be spoken of. It may be aptly seen in women, who although they be naturally bashful, shame▪ fast▪ and modest, and that they dare not so boldly show their affections as men: yet they cannot so dissemble, but that they seem glad, and rejoice too be called fair, and for the same are not a little glorious. As the Poet that knew them so well, affirms of them,  

Fastus inest pulchris▪ se●uiturque super ●ia foreman.  
Disdain doth still depend upon dame beauty's train▪  
And pride to her always▪ as handmaid doth remain▪   

And after in his Art of Love:  
Delectant etiam cast as praeconia formae: Virginibus curae, grataque forma sua est.   

The praise of beauty virtuous maids do like and love full well:  
They like the name, they love the form●▪ wherein they do excel▪   
This desire of▪ glory notwithstanding should not be inordinate, for so might it blind▪ the judgement in such vain sort, that the true use and knowledge of it would leave us: whereby it commonly happeneth, that those which are sots in deed, and not glorious, supposing too do worthily and honestly, (whereof might proceed a kind of praise and glory) do it so foolishly, that they are as they deserve, mocked of the people. And surely I do not a little lament, too see this error so common in all men. Therefore we describe such gallauntes by the glorious Soldiers, in the Poet's Comedies, who were so meshed in this kind of folly, that they knew neither what they said▪ nor what they did▪ As he that vaunted the King could no way he without him, how he governed all, and that there was none but loved & reverenced him, saying thus to his servant▪  

Est istuc datum  
Profecto mihi, grata sint quae facio omnia.   

The Gods in birth to me assigned this glorious gift from heaven above,  
Tha● all things yield unto my mind, my words and deeds all men approve.   
And he yet more fool in Plautus, whom his malapar●e ●q●●●e made tóo believe that all women accomp●ed him so fair, as they ran in every place after him. The patch supposing it to be true, said: Nimia est miseria pulchrum esse hominem nimis. It is (sayeth he) a great pain to be an over fair man. Hereby we perceive that to be glorious is not evil, so the use of it be not matched with folly. Cicero in his Offices showeth, how the magnifical man should not be melancholy or angry, & that magnanimity doth principally consist in the bridling of this affection, for because (as he affirmeth in his Tusculans) it troubleth & ●●reth y● min● more than an other passion. And plutarch in his treatise of Temperance declareth that those which are delicatlye nourished, are most subject to fire & 〈◊〉 ●s, & soonest angr●. The fury of this passion was well seen by Hec●ba in Eurypides, and by Progne and P●i●omela in Quids' Metamorphosis▪ Notwithstanding this argument whatsoever it pleased them to say, we are of contrary opinion: that i● any Gentleman or Courtier be wronged, chiefly when the outrage toucheth his honour or reputation, and he seem no● to take the matter in great gréese, although 〈◊〉 can dissemble, he is not valiant nor magnifical. And those that most 〈◊〉 ●e fume in any such quarrel, are men of mo●● courage, and thought happiest of heart. So that sundry are proud to say, I am choleric of Nature, and account of this as a virtue.   

Of Temperance.  
THe last fountain from whence floweth the perfeaction of honesty, is that that giveth force and light to others, without which nothing can be well done▪ And is called Temperance, which is a moderation of perturbations and troubles of the mind, and a measurable mildness or mean in all things▪ Whereof I can particularly speak no more, but that it very ●●re comprehendeth all the rest, and is the principal spring from whence 〈◊〉 all gold behaviour. The modest man is he that pleaseth ●uery man, who taketh nothing in malice or displeasure, and frames his quietness to all purposes. On the contrary, he that doth arrogantly impress in his spirits his first opinions and imaginations, & will not any way yield to reasonable change, is hated of all men▪ And of him it is said: Malum consilium quod mutori non potest▪ The counsel of that man is evil, which may not be altered: For although such advice be good and reasonable▪ yet it must be moderated, & masked, according to the pleasure of others. These kind of people we should not accompany ourselves with, as wilful men, headstrong▪ hasty, & such as are subject to their own affections: for since each one, hath his proper imperfections, if we should still be obstinate or stout, and would not yield nor apply ourselves one to another, nor support and forth one the other, there should be nothing but devotion, contention, & particularity among men. Therefore is it most proper to Prudence, to know the people, place, & time, with the rest of their circumstances. And this being known, Temperance entereth our hearts, & mollifieth all the parts of it▪ 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 it not to ta●ke ●●ill, or be offended at any thing though the same be imperse●●, in such sort, that partly it dissembleth, and partly it applieth, and obeyeeths to all these circumstances. So we may know, that those offenders are vexed with t●● v●ees, with Ignorance, and that is ●●●●sable when it is alone: and with natural presumption, engendered and b●●ne in our ●yndes, ●●y this second Nature▪ whe●●●● treat: which opre●umption 〈◊〉 h●●det 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 mildness, and ●o mak●●● us 〈◊〉 ●●●ogant, and stubborn against others▪ and causeth our anger to be obstinate, furious, and spiteful in opinion. But this virtue expulseth these vices, and maketh our hearts ●●eke, lowly, humble, & obedient. As touching those that offend but of ignorance, they are (as I have said) excusable, when the mind is tractable, the desire good, and the heart mild, gentle, and not stubborn: for though good natural people are ignorant of those sircunstances, & know nothing, nor have seen any thing to purpose: yet we may then perceive them to have good entrance and beginning of knowledge, when they do not wilfully stand in their ignorance. And for that we daily frequent and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 company, as are neither found in our Philosophy▪ nor good Courtiers: to find out such we must note, that of all the four virtues we have spoken of, this is the same which makes us perfitly to understand and know, when any are civil, honest, and Courtiers to be liked. Some are seen very sumptuous, and magnifical in most of their doings, and others attempt great matters of a lofty▪ heart, to show a desire to revenge their honora ●●d yet ●●ste of nothinglesse than of our Philosophy▪ 〈◊〉 that is modest, ●●ractable and temperate, is not without the other▪ virtues also And to the end that the force of this virtue may be the better perceived, we will proceed to speak of a good grace which chief amongst all the rest springeth out of this virtue.   

Of a good Grace.  
These four virtues, that we have treated of afore, are the assured and certain causes, and very springs from whence proceedeth honesty, which we like wise call Courtly civility. Of the which civility well framed, & according to the circumstances (that we have mentioned of) applied, is form, born, and nourished this a●● grace▪ which Cice●o in his Offices calleth ●●coru●● genezale. And for that the m●tter to him seemeth so confused, as it is not yet framed into direct and right rules: he said, it might be better cōc●●ed in imagination▪ than set forth▪ in writing: we will after him declare that little we know, as well by writing, as by experience. And to the end, th●● the difference▪ between Civility and good grace▪ 〈◊〉 be discerned and understanded▪ All causes pr●●eeding from the virtues before mentioned 〈◊〉 Civil actions, though they a●e 〈…〉 to all persons: for the use ●●everie 〈◊〉 tion should be digested, and moderated, according to the circumstances. This agreement and good grace comes of civility and honesty: whereby we know, that nothing should precisely be called good grace, unless it be honest▪ And honesty should be measured, according to our virtues before showed. Notwithstanding, oftentimes abusing the term, we attribute it to villainous and dishonest acts▪ as when we say that a theft or pick●ric is done with a good grace, when the fr●●bes, ●●●●els, and subtleties of thieves and thieving is well observed. Cicero sayeth there are two kinds of good graces: one special, which 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to every one of the virtue 〈◊〉 as that which we 〈◊〉, doth smell or taste of any particular virtue: The other general, proceeding from all the virtues, which is a certain framing and agreeing ●● 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, to the pleesing of the world, where of we now speak Whereby we may perteyne and judge that they are much ab●sed, & are not of the number of our Philosophers that will ever have their countenance 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of great understanding▪ and also they that will not make other 〈◊〉 or 〈◊〉, but as magnifical and liberal: For 〈◊〉 cheer and our countenance must taste of Prudence, Justice, Magnanimity, & above all of Temperance or Modesty. Of the which four so assembled and united, is perfitly seen and proved to come a good grace. Where are now out l●stie youths, that are so lively and brave, and take so great pain to be gallant, that speak friendly, march delicately, and look loftily▪ counterfeiting countenances in all, and supposing by this to have a good grace: and yet are merely ignorant of our virtues, whereof that good grace springeth. Then these pleasant appearances, that proceed from the honest acts of good Courtiers, is this good grace? which cannot be divided 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 from 〈◊〉 virtue, nor our virtue from her. And wherein is so great force to come to this perfection of honour, as nothing more: so that you may see our Gentlemen to ●a●e mo●● honour and reputation among Citizens and Merchants, and con●ent them better with their borrowing persuasions, than any of these rude and rustics can do with gifts.  
Socrates the fi●st moral Philosopher, gave one precept among others, whereby we might easily come to honour▪ which is, that we should not mask, or disguise ourselves, and that we should be ashamed to seem otherwise in deed than we are. For (saith he) when any show themselves other than they be, it is a plain argument they are of no value. And further their feigning and hypocrisy cannot but be spied. For glory got in such subtle sort will perish. And there is nothing so finely feigned, cunningly couched, nor craftily covered, but time will reveal the same: and all causes conveyed by dissimulation, are subject to time, and are of substance like white blossoms: whereas true virtue increaseth daily, and groweth with time to immortal perfection.  
To the end that this appear not contrary to that we have said of Dissimulation, which we affirm to be of so great force in our Philosophy: we must better understand the sentence of Socrates: for we follow him in this, and his opinion is very good. True it is, that he that showeth himself other than he is indeed, dissembleth: and he that dissembleth, showeth himself otherwise than he is. But we must consider the end of dissimulation, which will agreed with us easily. Socrates forbids such masking and general 〈◊〉 by cause ●e should not appear to be others tha● we are and we also allow the s●on●▪ For it w●re very foolish and rashly spoken, to say that a Gentlemen Courtier hath a mind to be seen or accounted too show himself contrary to that he seemeth: or to do any thing to that end. But Socrates letteth us not, that having no desire to show ourselves contrary to that we would be esteemed, notwithstanding we dissemble, and accommodate ourselves to the imperfections of every one, when the same doth present us danger, and is prejudicial unto us. For such dissembling is not evil, and in it is neither deceit nor fraud: but all good faith, as it were done not of purpose to show ourselves otherwise than we be: but to the end to please the world. Himself doth serve us for example, for although he was ever like unto himself, constant and not variable, and desirous not to be seen other than he seemed: yet was he the greatest dissembler in the world. It is therefore worthy great praise to moderate our affections, that they appear not any way to others: and so to dissemble and accommodate ourselves to every one: For this is an easy mean to win and draw to us the good wills of all men, whereof cometh honour and reputation. And although sometimes, in dissimulation is found an evil intent, as in those that under their fair and fawning cheer do covertly hide hatred: yet for all that they do not leave to be good men and virtuous, so that their evil will appear not too much: for it sufficeth to us, if the means ●e good, under the which, he that deceiveth his companion most cunningly and subtly, is most wise. We see the like in love, which is a place where our virtue and god grace is most allowed and best proved, as we have said. And is not then this dissimulation requisite and necessary to gain by the deceiving of one another: as Ovid maketh mention in his third Book de arte 〈◊〉  

Saepe virifallunt, tenere non saepè puell●,  
Paucaque si queras, crimina fraudis habent.   

G●ile is most part grafted in men,  
in maidens rare to find:  
Most maids are full of faith,  
most men have faith resigned.   

And further,  
Non tamen expositas mensa deprendat Amator,  
Pyxidas, ars fac●em dissimul●ta iwet.   

In place when thou thy mistress spies,  
her best to please ●hy countenance frame,  
The easiest art to bear her eyes,  
well to dissemble is the same,   
Sometimes we must dissemble, to blind the world, and to shadow our hot affections with cold regard and countenances, or otherwise: as Helen admonished Paris, fearing lest his love should be suspected, which he made to her in the absence of her husband Menelaus: when she cunningly counseled him saying:  

At tu dissimula, nisi tu desistere mavis:  
Sed cur desistas? dissimulare licet.   

Unless thou mind to cease,  
dissemble thou therefore:  
But why shouldst thou now stint thy suit?  
thou canst dissemble sore.   
And on the contrary, to be open and simple, is meet for beasts and ydiotes: for this presumption being still among us, that is, every one to deceive other that most cunningly can: Those that with open heart declare and show themselves not willing to use fraud, are reputed ignorant, and have not the courage to speak to a man. For this the Almains are best esteemed, as sometimes heretofore we the French men were: yet now (God be thanked) they have prettily learned to live: And further, when the subtlety of dissimulation, is subject to reprehension. We should not therefore generally blame dissimulation. For evil people do makesevill their profit in all things: As O●d sayeth de Tristibus, declaring to Cesar, that although s●me women had evil▪ ●●●d his Art of love, the book was not therefore the worse: For (saith he) evil people abuse the goodness of fire, which is notwithstanding good. And so of all other good things.  

And more:  
Quodcunque attig●rit▪ si q●●est studiese smistri●  
●d vitium mores instruit ind● suos.   
This facility of the Spirit is not therefore to be blamed which snakes man according to the pleasure of others, to chatinge and transform himself▪ For in so doing he shall be accounted wise▪ win honour, and be free of reprehension every where: which Proteus knew very well, to whom his diverse Metamorphosis and often transfiguration was very commodious. Thus have you principally the profit, which Temperance brings us, for the better obtaining of this good grace.  
We have declared how particularly we should govern ourselves in obeying others▪ now we must know how we shall generally use our acts of good grace, without regard of the complexions, conditions, and private imperfections of any: A● amongst ●●aungers, and▪ i● an unknown companies▪ or in a multitude or great assembly where diverse are of sundry opinions, which will not be content nor think it good that we should frame our following more to the one than to the other, i● it be not to some noble person above the rest, wherein it is lawful without offence to the company, to serve and obey▪ his pleasure▪ I cannot here forget the ignorance and brutishness of the people, who in feasts, banquettes, and assemblies, govern and order themselves, not according to the manner of the Court which is the best rule: but according to their particular pleasures and opinions. Wherefore it is not to be marveled at, if out of such a company many come discontented: when every one of the assistaunces having their proper imperfections, contrary the one t●● the other, it were impossible, but in pleasing of one, we should▪ and must offend the other. So that if any frame themselves to observe their rule and common manner▪ every one will constrain his desire▪ ●●● like well of it. And for that the Spirit is the principal part of man, having is certain movings, which are the affections, even as the body hath. It is then the same we should most care of. For if the movings be honest, and according▪ too virtue, which is too say, if the affections are not contrary too the four kinds, whereof we have spoken afore, but are united, concorded, and ruled by them, the gesture of the body will easily follow, and nothing shall pass before the eyes of men, which shall not be well done and of a good grace. For the body is the Organ and Instrument of the Spirit, by the which it doth show itself, and makes known what it is. It was not without cause, that certain Philosophers said home that the Spirit is ever like itself, and never comes with more cunning, nor better learned from the Schools than she was before: For those that are Tutors and Teachers, do not instruct the Spirits of Infants: But only open, and stretch out the cunduytes of the body, to the end, that the Spirit being delivered, may know and show herself, whereby we see that men of weak and feeble Spirits, cannot become learned: What pain and studies soever they take, what time and charge so ever they spend, and what master or learner, so ever they have. The reason is, that the Vessels and powers of the body being once opened, nothing more can be done: and no cunning industry or labour, can any way altar or change the condition of the Spirit. Wherein it seemeth too me peerless, in a master and case so clear, too use any Argument, for too show whether the quality of the Spirit of man, be virtuous or not, when it is too be known by the gesture and outward countenance of the body: as it were impossible for the body, to serve for a mask or false Visard to the sprite, which is even so. For where as sundry ssi●gular good Authors, have desired to make us understand the conditions and properties of persons passed, either how they were learned, wise, magnifical, or such like, and would perfitly represent them and describe them unto us: they could not otherwise make them better known than by their acts, gestures, and manner of living: As we may see in Sallust, who doth so lively counterfeit Catiline: and in the poets, who had great delight in such descriptions. And we ourselves, when we see a man still busy without purpose or reason, we say he is wavering and inconstant: and when we hear one speak much and like or allow of his talk, we say he is wise, and of a good judgement. And so we commonly judge others by their outward signs. For too speak a truth, how should we otherwise have the knowledge of things invisible, secret and hidden: if not by the exterior apparaunces that be presented to some one of our senses? Then we must needs conclude, that the countenance of man revealeth and bewrayeth the knowledge of his Spirit: the which can be no other in outward show, than she doth form them. Wherefore we aught not to blame the manner of living of a learned man, wise, bountiful or liberal: though he have not doctrine, prudence, liberality, and other qualities of the Spirit. And for that there are many which have not the true knowledge of her properties, (which is no other but virtue or vice) and consequently understand not that it is part of our Philosophy: this is the cause, that knowing nothing of the manners, gesture, and living of men, we commonly judge of them otherwise than they are. As of a young sot or fool brainless and full of prattling, they will esteem, wise, pleasant, and a good speaker▪ and on the contrary, of one prudent, modest, and a civil Courtier, they will regard as proud, glorious, and of no understanding. These kind of noddies be of the number of the ignorant multitude, which are nothing certain, but so blinded, that they follow in judgement of all things their first opinion whatsoever it be. Of whom it is said, Quot capita, tot sensus. As many heads so many wits. Against whom whosoever will contend, is like Hercules fight with the Serpent Hydra, having many heads, who as soon as he had cut of one, there presently sprung out in his place five or six more, as evil or worse than the first. The mind of man hath two governors reason and appetite: Reason is the same whereby he wills nothing contrary too virtue: and appetite is that which makes us desire all things, without regard or cheyse of good or evil, and seeks no other thing, but only for pleasure. Therefore we should in all our life, have great regard that we take nothing in hand without some honest intent. It is a maxim or principle, that the Sages in times past left for us to follow: Nihilfrustra, Nothing in vain. If in all our doings before the execution, we hold this consideration, to think of▪ wherefore we do it, and to what end: surely there shall not be so many repentaunces, as there is. And for this cause is it remembered that the wise man never sayeth, I thought it not, or it reputes me▪ not for that he aught or should not repent him, when he hath done evil▪ but for that he attēpeth nothing, without consideration wherefore and to what end: after the which consideration, repentance comes never or seldom. Therefore we must have great sore sight that in all our a●s & deeds, we execute nothing rashly, and without advice: which if we do, reason shall rule & govern so well, that the spirit will not deliver from her, any thing but virtue: from whence this good grace shall then be seen to proceed. Even so the appetite yielding to discretion, will enterprise nothing in us, but be obedient in executing the decree and commission of reason. Then these immoderate affections, which are so blinded & insolent, that they make us subject & slaves to our own proper opinions: shall be banished from us, as an ●uill contrary to our Philosophy: which is not but too please and be gracious to others, whereby is obtained honour and reputation. A man thus ruled and governed shall have his whole senses free, to study the best mean how he aught to live: and when we shall once understand and know our virtue to he such as we have showed afore, he will address all his thoughts toward her, and will do nothing which shall not be agreeable to every man, whereby be may receive praise and estimation of the world: which is the accomplishment of our desired enterprise.  
See here the happy way we must hold: and whereupon is grounded the perfit glory of our Philosophy. See how the true and right Courtiers live: which bend and bow their own proper affections to follow our virtue, and he pleasing to all men. Behold the true fountain from whence springs the good grace, which consists principally (as we see) in modesty and temperance. Where are now these glorious vaunters, that triumph in their imperfections and good heads? which will not (as they say) for any man living, do otherwise than after their own brains? We must send them to Timon Misantrope that enemy of mankind, and exclude them clean from our company.  
The Gentleman Courtier is none of those, nor so addicted to his own desires, or so subject to himself, but pliant like wax, ready to receive any honest or friendly impression. For if it be needful to laugh, he rejoiceth: If to be sad, he lowreth: If to be angry, he frowneth: If to feed, he eateth: If to fast, he pineth. And to conclude, he is ready to do whatsoever it be, according to the humours and complexions of his fellowship and Courtly company, although his affections are clean contrary. Yet in all these actions, he must use a prudence, that he do not any thing lightly, but so gravely and with such a modest mean, as if he had double consideration in it, regarding why, how, where & when, with all other circumstances. And that he have ever in his mouth not to do wrong to any, but to guard and defend the right of all men. And if it be needful to be magnifical, so to use it, as it seem to be done not niggardly, but bountifully: that he have his heart firm, fast, and assured, not moved or bashful at any sudden motion, how strange or stately soever it be. That he so moderate and bridle his private affections, as nothing be seen to come from him, but courtesy, gentleness, and humanity. And doing this, there will presently appear in him so good a grace, that he shall easily draw unto him the favour and benevolence of every man. And as all the world may perfectly perceive, that by the exterior and outward acts, one cannot so well deceive, or so easily beguile the simplest of judgement that is, if he have not these instructions in his mind, without the which none can attain too this perfection of knowledge. Therefore let us follow and rule ourselves by others, accustoming too do as they do, and make a good foundation▪ For the first praise consists in inventing and executing in himself somewhat that is good: the second too prove it good, and too follow the same that others have done good by. And in so directing our doings, besides that many will account of us as great Philosophers, and being known of the best in our virtue not to have the whole understanding of it: yet at the least they will commend & praise our desire to know the ground of it: which by little & little will so polish and burnish our countenance, that in the end we may well come too the perfection of this good grace. Let us mark the Italian his Civility and courtesy. For ancient Rome the mother and nurse of many of our Philosophy (although they have written of others) have sown and spread in all the country certain countenances and gestures, which are daily practised in such sort, as, though some have not their minds perfectly instructed, yet they have their cheer and gestures so framed, by a custom of following it, that they seem to us the best for Courtly grace in the world. The Italian will not appear in any his acts rash or heady, but so coldly and so soberly seems to consider all circumstances, as thougeh he tasted the sap and substance of our best virtue; which proceeds of Prudence. And in doing wrong to any, whereby the law may touch him, or the judge bite him (as we have said speaking of justice) he is so circumspect, as he commonly keeps and conveys himself out of bondage ever. And if it be needful too play Sienor Magnifico, God knows how he will do his endeavour. Touching the haughtiness of heart & nobleness of mind, there are none in the world do better or with more majesty represent it than they. They blush or bash at nothing: for if you suppose suddenly to move them, with a shrink of their shoulder they shake it of, & make a good appearance. If you suppose to make them laugh, they will not change countenance: And for the rest, it is peerless to tell, how they cover, hide, and repress their affections with their great, patience and dissimulation. So that to conclude, they are born and bred in their country Courtiers. By this example, such as cannot well instruct their minds in our Philosophy, shall do singularly well to endeavour and accustom themselves, to imitate, follow, and represent the best liked and most allowed in the same. I was of opinion too proceed in this matter more particularly, but I feel my pen blunt & weary: & I am willing to recreate myself in this country where I am newly come.   

The Conclusion.  
I Will content myself too have opened thus much, by the which such as have good eyesight, may as in a turret or prospective place, regard a far off, and see many things touching the variety of man's life, whereof we have no whit spoken. We may also perceive that this Philosophy moral, that commands us to do all things which is good faithfully and truly, how it hath made us to gather together this, whereof we have treated: which wills us to do the same, that seems good to men. And this error is not to be wondered at, since it comes of the corruption and depravation of our minds, who accounts that good which is evil according to the judgement of other men some what perfect. For we have so many spies and enemies, that seek no other than to entrap and meshe us in these follies & vanities, to the end we should not know the true way we aught to take: that it is impossible for this second nature (wherein the Sages and worldly wise have set their only good and felicity) to resist or withstand them: whereby most part of men are deceived, supposing to have this Philosophy, which they have not. And others that are said too be more wise, are most abused: believing that in the same which they have, consists the only good & happy state of man, whereas in deed there is nothing more contrary to the sovereign bounty than their Science alone: which doth no other, but puff and lift up these our minds against the alone and only omnipotent puissance. Wherefore I affirm that true Philosophy is the despising & contemning of Philosophy and his foundation, which is this second nature, that God hath not made. For by the fault of man it is become so corrupted. If we will be Philosophers, we must shake from us and unfold the darkness and impediments of this second nature, & her consequence: (what this consequence is, I leave to others judgement) and endeavour ourselves to reknowledge the first, which is the same that God made: who will give us his blessing and grace so to do, if we open the gate unto him who seeketh us, saying, I stand at your door and knock thereat, if any will receive me, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me.  
FINIS.    

To the Reader.  
Content thyself for the present (gentle Reader) with that I have opened unto thee the gate of my thoughts, and brought thee into the Cabinet of my contemplations: hoping (if thou take it pleasantly) that I will show thee piece after piece, the remnant of the little Treasure that I have there.   

Imprinted at London by Henry Binneman, for Lucas Harison and George Bishop. Anno Domini. 1575.