¶ Three moral Treatises, no less pleasant than necessary for all men to read, whereof the one is called the Learned Prince, the other the Fruits of Foes, the third the port of rest.  
¶ Imprinted at London by William Seres, dwelling at the west end of Paul's at the sign of the hedgehog.  
Cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum.   

To the Queen's highness  

OF all the books that ever Plutarch wrote,  
More meet is none, when they have time & space,  
For Princes all to read and well to note:  
Then this, which hear I offer to your grace.   

For like as he, the good doth justly praise,  
The evil their faults, so, plainly doth he tell,  
And whilst he doth consider both their ways:  
He shows wherein a Prince ought most texcell.   

That is to say in learning, wit, and skill,  
To tame affects, and follow reasons lore,  
Whose steps do flethe ways of froward will:  
And treads the paths of justice evermore.   

And though this Book, your highness oft hath red,  
In greekish prose as Plutarch did it wright:  
My rural muse, for that, yet, had no dread  
In English verse, again the same tendight.   

Presuming of the favour which she found,  
When that she sang, what fruits of foes might rys●  
And that your grace, gave ear unto the sound  
Of such rude rhyme, as she did then devise.   

Wherefore now hark my liege and sovereign Queen  
What Plutarch sayeth of princes good and bad  
Who if he were alive to judge: I ween,  
Of all the Queens in honour to be had,  
Your learning, and your virtues pondered well,  
He would your grace, should only bear the bell.   
Your majesties most humble Subject Thomas Blondeville.   

The learned Prince.  

THe Cyrens once made great request,  
That Plato would vouchsafe to wright  
such laws, as he for the thought best,  
Their state thereby, to rule upright.   

But Plato tho, did clean refuse,  
So hard a thing to take in hand,  
Who knew, they would good laws abuse  
Which had such wealth within their land.   

For nothing is more hard tentreate,  
More proud, ne worse to deal withal,  
Than is that man, in wealthy state  
Which thinks to stand, and feareth no fall.   

Wherefore it is to hard for such  
As others rule, and bear the sway,  
To suffer laws to rule to much,  
Lest than, their power should soon decay.   

For reason as their chief to take,  
They do abhor: lest Princely might,  
They should then forced be to make  
A slave: to justice truth and right.   

As men alas which do not know,  
What ●●eop●mp the Spartan duke  
Said to his wife with voice full low,  
When she objected this rebuke.   

For whereas he did first of all  
To royal power, Tribunos add:  
She said thou bryngst thy Son, in thrall,  
To leave less power, than thou hast had.   

No rather yet, then answered he  
I shall him leave so much the more  
For now his power shall stronger be  
Then ever mine was heretofore.   

And though this Prince himself depryud  
Of that which he to give thought good:  
As though small brooks he had deryud  
Out of a goulffe, or flowing flood:   

remitting yet the riguor great  
Of royal power which none can bear  
He did avoid all envious hate:  
And led his life clean out of fear.   

If reason got by wisdom's lore  
Assist the Prince: she guards his health,  
For ridding thill away before  
She leaves the good t'increase his wealth.   

But many Kings that foolish are  
To masters rude that carve in stone  
And have no art, I may compare  
So little difference is or none.   

For they their Images do judge  
Then best to make: when that they shape  
them arms & thighs with legs most huge  
and ugly mouths full wide to gape.   

Vnprudent kings even so I say  
By frowning looks, big voice, disdain,  
and keeping close in, all the day,  
Great majesty do think tattaine.   

Like Images in outward show  
Which do pretend some goodly one  
yet inwardly if you will know  
they only are but earth or stone.   

In one thing yet they disagree.  
For Images through that their weight  
and heavy poised, fast stablished be:  
Ne do they move but stand up strait.   

Where foolish kings untaught I say  
For that within they are not sound  
Ne truly weighed they serve and sway  
and oftimes fall unto the ground.   

For why unless to place thou wilt  
In sure wise, thy Principal:  
What ever shall thereon be built:  
In breffe must needs to ruin fall.   

But as the Craftsman should foresee  
His rule be right and truly made  
Without all fault before that he  
In any work do further wade:   

A Prince likewise ought first to know  
Himself to rule and rightly guide  
And then to frame his subjects so  
As in good rule they may abide.   

For why it is a thing unmeet  
A feeble man to take in hand  
to set up others on their feet  
When he himself can scantly stand.   

Ne likewise can it decente be  
That he should teach which hath no skill  
Or order men in each degree  
In whom doth reign disorder still.   

Ne should that man command of right  
Which reasons rule doth not obey  
Though fools him count of greatest might  
Which subject is no kind of way.   

The king of Perce, did all men take  
To be his slaves and live in thrall  
His wife except whom he should make  
His will tobaye, above them all.   

But some perhaps would now demand  
Question Who ought to rule a Prince or King?  
answer The law as Queen, who doth command  
Both Gods and men, as Poets sing.   

I mean not that which is expressed,  
In books of paper, wood, or stone,  
But reason grafted within his breast,  
To guide his doings everichone.   

The King of Pearce was wont to have  
A chamberlain whom day by day  
When morning came he straight charge gave  
That he to him these words should say.   

Arise thou King and sleep no more  
But careful be to do right soon  
Such needful things as heretofore  
Mesoromasdes would have done.   

But Kings that wise and learned are  
Have always one within their mind  
More prompt to tell them of their care  
Then any man that they can find,   

Polemon said that Cupyde was  
A servant to the Gods above  
From place to place with speed to pass  
To seek what did young lads behove.   

But one more rightly yet might say  
God's ministers that Princes be  
To take the charge of men alway  
And eke their wealth to well foresee.   

That like as God do let them have  
Those godly gifts which they enjoy  
Some part even so they still should save  
And wisely ought the rest temploye.   

We see the ample heaven how he,  
With liquid arms do th'earth embrace:  
Who first sent down the sedes which she  
With fruit brings forth in every place.   

Some grow by rain, and some by wind,  
By glittringe stars some norissht are  
And some the Moon with moistures kind  
To foster up, hath only care.   

And finally the lovely Son  
Whose shining beams adorneth all  
His friendly course doth daily run  
And shows like love to great and small.   

These godly gifts yet can we not  
Ne rightly use ne well enjoy  
Unless also it be our lot  
To have a Prince justice and joy..   

For justice is of law the end  
And law the princes work I say  
The Prince gods likeness doth portend  
Who over all must bear the sway.   

And neadith not the skilful hand  
Of Phidias, or Policlette,  
Of Miron eke or such like band  
Of those that Carve and colours set.   

For he himself by virtue can  
Himself to God most like descry  
An Image pleasing every man  
And noble to behold with eye.   

And like as God in heaven above  
The shining Son and Moon doth place  
In goodliest wise as best behove  
To show his shape and lively grace:   

Such is that Prince within his land  
Which fearing God, maintaineth right,  
And reasons rule doth understand,  
Wherein consists his port and might.   

And not in Sceptre, or in Crown,  
In thunder bolt, or glittering sword,  
whereby some think tobteyne renown  
Since than, they should be greatly feared.   

Whereas in deed, for that they seem  
That none to them may have access:  
They are envied, and wise men deny  
Such port to be great foolishness.   

For God offended is with those  
His thundringe power that imitates:  
But he delights in such as chose  
In clemency to be his mates.   

And doth promote them more and more  
And of his own benignity:  
Doth make them partners of his lore  
Of justice, truth, and equity.   

Which things in deed are more divine  
Than fire, light, or phoebus course,  
Than stars that rise or down decline  
Ye endless life itself, is worse.   

For why long life is not the cause  
That God most happy counted is  
But prince of virtue is the clause  
Whereon dependeth all his bliss.   

When Alexander sorry was  
For Clytos death whom he had slain:  
Then Anaxarke, such woeful case  
To mitigate: to him 'gan sayne.   

To Clito happed but justice tho,  
Which doth assist the gods always  
That what soever Princes do,  
Should rightful seem without denay.   

Which saying was ne right, ne good,  
For where the king bewailed his crime:  
This semd to egg him in like mood,  
To do like act an other tyme.   

But if for men it lawful were  
Such things texamyne as them list:  
Full quickly then, it would appear  
That justice doth not jove assist.   

For justice even itself to be,  
Almighty jove we ought to take:  
A law of most antiquity  
Which never did the truth forsake.   

The old men also plainly say  
It passeth jove his power and might  
When lady justice is away:  
A kingdom for to rule upright.   

Who as Hesyode hath us taught  
A virgin is immaculate,  
A shamefast maid, which never wrought  
But modestly with every state.   

And hereof kings surnamed are  
Right reverent, and dreadful aye:  
For those in whom doth dwell least fear,  
Ought to be feared moste I say.   

But it behoves much more a king  
To fear to do, then suffer ille,  
For of the one the other spring,  
So do so have is justice will.   

This Princely fear a Prince likewise  
Should always have: Unwares that lest  
To him, for lack of careful eyes:  
With wrongs his subjects be oppressed.   

For so the dogs that watch the fold  
When they the cruel wolf do hear:  
Not for themselves which are full bold,  
But for their charge have only fear.   

Epamynond the Theban knight  
His subjects tending feasts and play  
Would all alone both day and night  
Keep watch and ward and oft-times say.   

That he did aye live soberly  
And watchful was to that intent  
That others might more quietly  
Be drunk, and sleep, as they were bent.   

When Cezar had at utique town,  
to Cato yeven the overthrow:  
the rest unslain, then Cato down  
Did call: unto the sea to go.   

And having seen them safely shipped  
and wysht them well to pass the sea:  
as one with fewer cares beclipte,  
Returned home himself to slay.   

By which ensample Cato hear,  
Doth teach all Princes that be wise,  
Of what, they should have greatest fear,  
And what again, they should despise.   

But on the other part behold  
Clearchus cruel king of Ponte,  
How like a Serpent laid in fold  
In chest close shut to sleep was wont.   

Full like Taristodeme therefore  
Who in his dyninge chamber had  
A closet with a falling door  
And eke with bedding finely clad.   

Wherein his concupyne and he  
Were wont all night to take their rest,  
And to th'intent that none should see  
Ne come to vex them in their nest:   

The mother of the damsel should  
The stair clean from thence remove  
And set it, there against they would  
come down next morning from above.   

How much think you would this man flee  
A palace, Court, or Feasting place  
Which of his chamber as you see  
A prison made to keep his grace.   

Thus true kings have no fear in deed  
But aye for those, on whom they reign:  
But Tyrants for themselves have dread  
Lest for their vice they should be slain.   

The greater power, the greater fear,  
The more to rule, that they obtain:  
The more as foes to them appear,  
Whereby they grow in more disdain.   

With matter apt all shapes to take  
And subject aye to sundry change  
Of god some would a mixture make  
and hide him there which is full strange.   

But Plato sayith God dwells above  
And there fast fixed in holy saws:  
From truth he never doth remove  
Ne swerves from nature's steadfast laws.   

And as in heaven like to a glass  
The son his shape doth represent:  
In earth, the light of justice was  
By him ordained: for like intent.   

Which shape all wise and happy men  
To counterfeit employ their pain  
Full busuly with wisdom's pen  
The chief bliss thereby tattaine.   

But nothing can this habit breed  
In us so soon, as reason's lore  
Got out of wysdom's school in deed:  
To guide our doings ever more   

When Alexander had well tried  
The prompt wit of Diogenes  
And seen his stoutness great beside:  
He marveled, and said, doubtless:   

If I not Alexander were,  
I would become diogenes,  
As one that virtue would fain leare:  
But princely power did him oppress.   

Which would not grant him time tapply:  
The thing so much esteemed aye  
For lack whereof he did envy?  
The Cinickes scrip, and poor array.   

Wherewith he saw the Cynic made  
At all assays more strong and stout  
Than he himself when to invade  
Of horse and men had greatest rout.   

Thus in desire and good will  
Diogenes the king might be  
And yet in deed remaining still  
In princely state and high degree.   

Yea, he, more need had in this case  
To be diogenes aright:  
In that he Alexander was  
An emperor great of power and might.   

Who had in fortunes seas to strive  
With cruel storms and rocks beside  
Whereon his ship might easily drive  
Unless he had the better guide.   

For private men of low degree  
That others can offend no way  
Though they taffectes oft subject be  
Their griefs yet are but dreams I say.   

But whereas power is joined unto  
Evil ordered life, there think it true  
That such affects will cause also  
Great grief in deed for to ensue.   

The chiefest fruit that Dionise  
Did of his empire take: it was,  
(He said) what he did than devise,  
With speed to have it brought to pass.   

A thing most perilous therefore  
It is, undecent things to will:  
When he that willeth, evermore  
Hath power, the same for to fulfil.   

For power doth malice quickly move,  
With evil affects the mind to streke  
As envy, wrath, adultery, love,  
men's goods also, and lives to seek.   

And then the word nis sooner said,  
But woe to him that is suspect  
Toffende in that to him is laid,  
For sentence there, must take effect.   

Of nature, such as searchers be:  
Do hold that after thunder clapp  
The lightning comes, yet do we see  
The same before we hear the rap.   

The blood likewise before the wound  
To us most commonly appears:  
For sight doth meet the light; where sound  
Is fain to come even to our ears.   

In kingdoms so, some men we find  
Tave suffered ear, thaccused were  
And sentence yeven to wrath inclined  
Before due proof of crime appear.   

For wrath nought able is twithstand  
The power of malice when she list,  
As is the anchor first in sand  
Which can the cruel sea resist.   

Unless that reason with her weight  
Press down such power, and kings abide  
To mark the son, in greatest hayght  
How he himself doth wisely guide.   

For when he mownted is aloft  
To Cancers ring, he seems to stay,  
In that he goeth so fair and soft  
Whereby he doth assure his way.   

But this by daily proof we know  
Where power and malice do abide:  
There, malice needs, herself must show,  
And can her face no long time hide.   

If those that have the falling ill  
At any time take cold I say,  
They can not stand but stagger still  
Which plainly doth their grief bewray.   〈…〉 
But only wish and daily crave  
Of god to grant, that over us  
Long time of reign her bygones' have  
Which is so good and gracious.  
Finis.   

¶ The fruits of Foes. Newly corrected and cleansed of many faults escaped in the former printing.  
Anno domini. M.D.LXI.  
Cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum.   

¶ Roger Ascham Secretory to the Queen's majesty, for the latin tongue, in praise of the book.  

OF English books, as I could find,  
I have perused many one:  
Yet so well done unto my mind,  
As this is, yet have I found none   

The words of matter here do rise,  
So fitly and so naturally,  
As heart can wish or wit devise  
In my conceit and fantasy.   

The words well chosen and well set,  
Do bring such light unto the sense:  
As if I lacked I would not let,  
To buy this book for forty pennies.    

To the Queen's highness  

Such New Year's gifts as most men do prepare  
To give your grace, it passeth far my power.  
For gold ne pearl, ne such like costly ware,  
Can I possess: sith fortune still doth lower.   

As she on me hath hereto ever done,  
Which had me brought at length to great distress  
But that the hope, which in your grace alone  
I always fixed: my griefs did oft redress.   

Which hope I say, even now doth make me bold  
Your royal state, with this so small a queyre  
For to present: yea more, that hope me told,  
From this day forth, I should no more despair.  
For lo, (saith she) the golden world at hand,  
And justice reigns again within this land.   
Your majesties most humble servant. Thomas Blundeville.   

The fruits of Foes.  

BY plutarch's lore of mortal foes,  
Learn ye that list some fruit to take,  
For fruits enough, he doth disclees  
Whereof I will, you partners make   

In old time passed, men only sought,  
The hurtful beasts, their foes to kill,  
Of other spoil, they nothing thought,  
But so to save themselves from ill.   

But others came then afterward,  
Whose sleight was such, those beasts to slay:  
As they thereto had small regard,  
Except they might obtain some prey.   

Their flesh to eat, they used therefore,  
And with their wool, themselves to clad,  
Their milk and gall they kept in store:  
To heal such griefs, as sick men had.   

And of their hides, they harness made,  
Themselves to arm, on every side:  
That they might aye in safety wade  
Against all force, that might betide.   

Lo thus by foes, no hurt to take,  
It did not them at all suffice,  
Except they might such great gain make:  
As they themselves could best devise.   

If thou therefore, without some hate,  
Here cannot live in quiet rest:  
Invent some way of such debate,  
To leave the worst, and take the best.   

No tylman can by art devise,  
Each tree to spoil, of nature wild:  
Nor huntsman eke, be he right wise,  
Can tame each beast, that roons in field.   

Wherefore they have right wisely found,  
The mean tapply such beast and tree,  
To other use, which doth redound,  
Unto their great commodity.   

The water of the sea, we see,  
Is salt, and hath upleasante taste:  
Yet chiefly thence, I say have we,  
The fish, our food, which we do waste.   

Yea, more than that, things of great price,  
The ships by sea to us do bring,  
Both pleasant silk, and wholesome spice,  
And many other needful thing.   

The brightness of the flaming fire,  
Appearing in the Satyrs sight:  
Strait ways, so kindled his desire.  
That it t'embraceembrace, he took delight.   

Prometheus, then loud can cry,  
Beware he said embrace none such,  
For that it hath the property:  
To burn all those, that doth it touch.   

It was not made to colle, and kiss,  
But heat, and light, always to yield:  
The very mean also it is:  
Whereby crafts men, their arts do weld.   

Hereby therefore, we may perceive,  
That of our foe right perilous,  
In this our life we may receive,  
Such fruits as be commodious.   

For though some things be very ill,  
To those, to whom they appertain,  
Yet used they may be, with such skill:  
As loss shall easily turn to gain.   

As lo for proof, some sickly corpse  
For easementes sake, seeks quiet rest.  
Where some again, to win their force,  
To travel oft, do think it best.   

Diogenes and Crates chance,  
Do well declare, how banishmentes  
And loss of goods, do some advance  
To knowledge great, which them contents.   

When Zeno heard, that tempests great,  
In raging sea, his ship had lost:  
He mourned not ne yet did fret,  
But made as though it little cost   

And thus 'gan say, to fortune tho,  
How dearly dost thou me entreat:  
Me thus to force, again to go,  
In wysedoms school, to find a seat.   

Some beasts we see, such stomachs have  
As serpent's cause full soon disgeast,  
Both wood and stone, they also crave  
Such kind of food, them hurteth least.   

But some again, so dainty been  
That they oft loath, the finest bred,  
And purest wine, that can be seen:  
Wherewith they might be always fed.   

Even so fares fools, that friendship joys,  
Do aye destroy, but to the wise:  
Of hateful strife and spiteful toys,  
Great wealth, and gain, doth oft arise.   

Wherefore, me thinks, where in thy foe  
Doth seem to give the greatest grief:  
Thou mayst thereof, receive also  
Much greater gain to thy relief.   

And if thou ask, how that may be,  
I say to thee, consider then,  
What care he hath, thy works to see,  
With whom, to whom, what, where, & when.   

With Linx his eyes, he doth behold,  
Thy life, thy friend, and servant aye,  
Thy deeds, and thoughts right manifold,  
Thy name to harm, if that he may.   

This profit eke, by foes we have  
Our friends oft times, we do not mind,  
They may be sick, and laid in grave,  
Unwares to us, like men unkind.   

But of our foe, both day and night  
We think and dream, such is our choice,  
His grief, or bane, to have in sight:  
Which only doth, our minds rejoice.   

If thou be sick, or much in det,  
Fallen out with wife, with maid, or man,  
Yea, no mishap can thee beset:  
But, it, thy foes, eft soon know can.   

Like ravening birds, that putryd flesh,  
And not the sound, far of can smell,  
So they thy ills, to spy be fresh,  
And all thy griefs, with eye full fell.   

What greater gain may be than this,  
Hereby to learn, in such a sort  
Our life to lead, as none there is:  
That ill thereof may once report.   

For as sick men that wary be,  
In meats and drinks, that may offend:  
In words and deeds, even so do we  
Take heed that they the best pretend.   

Whereby we come in school to dwell,  
Of customs good, and excellent,  
For reason rules thaffections fell:  
Whereto our minds be alwales bend.   

Yea, through long time, and exercise,  
It bredes in us, such steadfastness:  
That learn we can none other guise,  
But aye to live in holiness.   

The towns that long have been beset,  
With enemies stout on every side:  
Have dearly learned, by losses great,  
To keep good watch in every ride.   

And eke their laws and ordinance,  
To execute with justice aye  
The humble sort for to advance:  
The proud to chaste, that nill obey.   

Even so far those that forced be,  
Through spiteful foes, both negligence,  
And slothfulness always to flee  
Whereby they live without offence.   

For custom shall them bring with speed,  
To such a trade of doing well,  
That if they go as reason lead:  
In error none, they can long dwell.   

When minstrels of one suit and band  
In open place do music make:  
Without all fear, and care they stand,  
And to their play, no heed do take.   

But when their skill, they do compare  
With strangers, that profess like art:  
They sharp their wits, and have great care,  
That every one may do his part.   

Of instruments, and eke of strings,  
They seek where they may have best choice,  
And oft do prove, how with such things  
May best agree, both hand and voice.   

Even so it fares with him, whose life  
And honour both, much spited is  
By those that seeks, with hateful strife  
His things to blame that be amiss.   

Full ware is he in business,  
And eke foresees thereof the end,  
For when we err: maliciousness  
Regards the foe, more than the friend.   

When Carthage was all torn and rend,  
And Greece subdued, the Romans thought  
Themselves full safe, their foes thus shent,  
They were all glad, and feared nought.   

But Scipio did then reprove,  
In peril most be we (quoth he)  
When no foe is, that may us grieve,  
Whose fear should make us sloth to i'll,   

One asked once Diogenes  
How he might best revenged be  
Of all his ●oes, both more and les,  
That from all care he might be free.   

Diogenes right wisely though  
To him 'gan say, no dent of knife  
Can grieve so much thy cruel fo:  
As for to see thy perfect life.   

What grudge, what grief, the common sort  
Conceives to see, the go oddly horse  
And coursing dogs, which but for sport,  
To keep: their ●●es do little force.   

What plaints, what scythes, & doleful sounds  
Their spiteful breasts to heaven do yield,  
To see their pleasant garden grounds,  
Or store of corn to grow in field.   

How much more then, would they lament,  
To s●e their foe to be full just?  
In word and deed, to virtue bend,  
Of sober life, and free from lust.   

And eke to bud out of his breast,  
That freighted is, with holiness  
Such domes, and counsels, as are best,  
To ease each heart in heaviness.   

The tongues of them, that conquered Bee,  
Are bound from speech, saith Pindarus:  
And yet these words, as you shall see,  
To all be not approbrious.   

But only do such men reprove,  
As needs must yield, unto their foes,  
In all those virtues, that behove,  
A perfect man for to disclose.   

For such things faith Dimosthenes  
Do bind the tongue in torment aye,  
And stops the mouth of them doubtless  
That thinks more ill, than they dare say.   

Enforce to show thyself therefore,  
Sith in thy power it doth consist:  
Thy life to guide by virtues lore,  
Their wicked tongues for to resist.   

And when thou wouldst feign put thy foe,  
In great despair, take not the way  
By heinous words, as others do,  
His name to persecute I say.   

Ne beastly man, ne filthy fool  
Do thou him call, but rather seek,  
In such a sort thyself to school,  
That none thy doings may misleke.   

Be true thyself, in word and deed  
Be modest still, and chaste also  
Show courtesy in time of need  
To such as have with thee to do.   

And if it should so come to pass,  
That needs, thy foe thou must reprove  
For any fault: yet in that case,  
See first thyself thou do well prove.   

Examine eke with diligence,  
Thine inward parts if they be free,  
From all such vire and negligence:  
as in thy foe, thou seemst to see.   

For else perhaps thou mayst give cause,  
To some ill tongue, that stands thee by:  
With voice full soft, to say this clause,  
Recited in a Tragedy.   

Behold I say this foolish man,  
That takes in hand the wounds to cure  
Of other men: and yet nought can  
His own redress, I you assure.   

But if he call thee ignorant,  
Learn wisdom then by industry  
Thy faynty heart, if he do taunt  
Let stoutness show thou wilt not fly.   

If he thee check for lechery,  
Avoid each spark of filthiness,  
Out of thy breast full speedily,  
and learn to live in holiness.   

More foul or grievous nothing is  
Then for a man such faults to check  
As all the shame thereof iwis  
Again shall turn upon his neck.   

For as rebound of glittering light,  
The feeble sight doth most offend:  
Even so most grievous is the spite,  
Which truth beats back, from whence it wend.   

The misty clouds unto the wind,  
that blows North-east, do aye resort,  
The wicked life even so we find  
To her doth draw all ill report.   

If any man in Plato's sight  
Had vilely done, strait thence would he,  
And softly say, may any wight,  
Such one as he, me force to be?   

But when thou haste with words of ire  
Thy foe yprict, for his offence:  
Behold thyself, and eke desire  
Thy life tamende, with diligence.   

Of spiteful words so shalt thou draw  
Much fruit, to thy great wealth and gain  
Though some it think, ne right ne law,  
To use such words, of great disdain.   

The common sort, do laugh, and smile,  
When any bald or crooked man,  
Do others taunt, and oft revile,  
For such defects, as themselves han.   

What greater scorn, than would it be,  
If thou such faults shouldst reprehend:  
As one with worse, might answer thee  
Which thou in no wise couldst defend.   

As once, did Leo Bizantine,  
When one that had a crooked back,  
Him cast in teeth his bleared eyen  
alas (quoth he) this is no lack.   

A humane thing this is, I say,  
But why alas canst not espy:  
How on thy back thou bearest always,  
That goddess fell, dame Nemesye? 
Nemesis Goddess revenge.    

adulterer, see none thou call  
Whilst fouler lust in thee doth reign:  
Ne yet reprove the prodigal,  
If avarice thy life doth stain.   

Alemeon when he did revile,  
Adrastus, king: of kin thou art  
(Quoth he) unto that woman vile:  
Which carft with knife, her husbands heart.   

Adrastus then, him answered lo,  
With that which did him touch at quick  
Such beastly wrath in thee did flow  
Thy dame to slay ere she were sick.   

When Dyonise did Crassus' scorn,  
For that he wailed, his Lampreys case,  
By cruel death, than all forlorn,  
Which in his pond, long fostered was.   

Then Crassus said, rebuke not me  
Sith that from thee no tears did fall  
The death to see, of thy wives three  
Nor feelst no grief, thereby at all.   

Who so delights to check or taunt,  
No ribald, knave, or fool must be:  
With bragging words, himself to vaunt,  
But rather should from vice be free.   

Wherefore, none seems more bound tobay,  
Apollo's word (thine own self know:)  
Then those that are most prompt always  
To rail, to jest, to mock, and mow.   

For hap, it may, saith Sophocles,  
That whilst they taunt, as them likes best:  
To them again, is said doubtless:  
That which to hear, they covet lest.   

In taunting thus our foes, we find  
No little fruit, but more we gain,  
When they likewise, with words unkind,  
Our faults to taunt, do not refrain.   

Anthistines said well therefore,  
That life, in safety to encloes  
Man ought to have always in store:  
Right perfect friends, or bitter foes.   

For faithful friends will us reform  
When that we err: our foes again  
Will so much rail, a●d out of form,  
That needs from vice, we must abstain.   

But sith that now true friendship is  
Of free speech spoiled, and flattery bend  
To chat, and prate of things amiss  
Good counsels eke must needs all stint.   

And therefore nothing now remains  
For us to do: but to abide,  
The truth to hear, to our great pains,  
By spiteful foes, that nought will hide.   

When Telephus his festered wound  
Can no wise heal: with thenmies'enemies spear  
Which first him hurt lovelyfe, him bound,  
To lance the same without all fear.   

Even so must they of force agree  
To bide reproof of spiteful foes:  
Where wanteth friends their faults to see,  
And frankly will the same disclose.   

Nor in this case, we should behold  
Our foes intent, when they so rail,  
But if such things as they have told,  
Be true in us, or else do fail.   

Prothemeus of Thessaly  
A grievous sore had in his breast:  
Which one that was his enemy,  
Did cure by chance against his hest.   

For when he thought to have him slain,  
By dent of sword he broke the sore,  
Which festered was to his great pain,  
And so him held for evermore.   

Even so full oft it comes to pass,  
That words yspoke for ill intent,  
Do greatly help, some one that was  
His fault t'amend: full negligent.   

But most men when they are reviled  
Have no regard, if with such vice,  
As is them told, they be defiled:  
But seeks revenge, by like advice.   

Where reason would that such as are  
By foes rebukte, for their offence:  
Should afterward thereof beware,  
And seek redress with diligence.   

Yea, more than that, without desert,  
Though they us check, for any thing:  
To seek yet then, it is our part,  
The cause whereof the same did spring.   

And eke to fear lest ear we thought,  
We have the same or such like don  
For one suspect, hath many brought  
To shame, and great derision.   

As thargive king sir Lacydes,  
Because he was so nice of gate  
And eke his here would finely dress  
With finger aye, was pointed eaten.   

And called a man effeminate,  
The like to Pompey did befall,  
For that he used his head to scrat:  
When he no hurt, did think at all.   

For none did more than he, despise  
Such wanton lust and tenderness,  
Who aye was bend to enterprise:  
Things great of weight and hardiness.   

So Crassus eke to tell you plain,  
Suspected was through such like tale,  
For that he did as some men fain,  
Frequent full oft, a maid vestal.   

And yet in deed his cunning nas,  
For any hurt or ill intent:  
But certain land to high, in case,  
He could obtain her free consent,   

Posthumia through mirth and play,  
And haunting oft without respect  
men's company, her name I say  
With infamy did sore infect.   

For which she cited was t'appear,  
As one that had in lechery:  
Abused herself, with kinsfolks near:  
And yet she did no villainy.   

Whom though that Spurius, which hight  
Manutius, than bishop high,  
Of that ill fame, did clean acquight,  
He warned her yet thus fatherly.   

Posthumia, sith that thou haste,  
In holy works, thy life aye led,  
Lest wanton talk, thy name may waste  
I counsel thee have likewise dread.   

Themistocles, none ill had wrought,  
When he so often letters sent:  
To Pawsanye, yet some folks thought  
To traye the realm, was his intent.   

If any man thee charge therefore,  
With things untrue in every part,  
Be negligent no whit the more,  
Nor lightly let them from thee start.   

But take good heed, lest thou or thine,  
Hath given some cause, of such ill fame,  
Which once found out, thyself incline,  
To learn, thenceforth to flee the same.   

For such ill haps as comes unwares  
Do oft times teach, what is for us,  
Most meet to do, in such like cares,  
As Merop saith in writing thus.   

When fortune did me clean deprive  
Of that, which I esteemed most:  
To much more wit I did arrive  
Albeit full deer it did me cost.   

By masters then of cheaper price  
Which be our foes, why should we steke  
In things unknown to take advice,  
Which with such cost we sometime seek.   

For they in us do know and see  
A thousand things, which friends reject,  
Because by love they blinded be,  
Where foes are full of great respect.   

When hieron's foe did him reprove,  
For that his breath did saver ill:  
Then to his wife, and best belove,  
With speed went he to chide his fill.   

And said to her, why hast thou not,  
To me declared this fault of mine?  
Because (quoth she) I thought god wots,  
That all men's breathes had been as thine.   

Thus may you see, that friends most dear  
Our faults nought can, so soon out find  
As foes that aye, both far and near:  
Fails not to keep such things in mind.   

One virtue more, and that full good  
By foes also we may obtain:  
Which is, our tongues in angry mood,  
By reason's bit for to refrain.   

For virtues such will not be had,  
Except we learn in time to tame,  
Our fierce affects, and raging mad,  
Whereby oftimes, we come to shame.   

As lo, behold, the wrathful man,  
For lack of wit and temperance,  
His foolish words, to stay nought can:  
Whereof doth spring much variance.   

This fault therefore, as Plato says,  
Both god and man, doth chaste doubtless:  
For that the rest at all assays,  
It doth exceed in peevishness.   

But silence is, without all harm,  
And tongues to hear, that lewdly rave  
With stoutness such, itself doth arm:  
As Socrates was wont to have.   

Yea rather more as Hercules  
For as they say, no words of spite,  
Could once offend his hardiness:  
But as a fly them weighed so light.   

What thing therefore more grave may be,  
Then still to be, whilst foes do rail,  
As when we would take heed to i'll:  
Some fearful rock, whereby we sail   

Besides all this, thou shalt thus leare,  
Thy brawling wife, and chiding friend  
Thy brother's faults with ease to bear,  
How much soever they offend.   

I only speak of these, I say,  
Because I do myself assure,  
Thy parent's words and stripes always,  
Without all grudge thou wilt endure.   

For what intent did Socrates  
His froward wife, Zantip by name  
At home retain, but patientnes  
To learn: abroad to use the same.   

Much better wert such patience  
To learn by suffering aye thy foe:  
Whose spiteful words with ill pretence  
Do count as wind, and let them go.   

In enmity, thus you may see,  
That patience mild hath greatest grace  
But friendship seeks simplicity  
And friendly deeds doth most embrace   

Nor it deserves so great a praise  
Thy faithful friend to gratify:  
As it is foul when need assays  
Of friendly help, him to deny.   

Our foe's offence if we set light,  
When just revenge in us doth lie:  
It deemed is in each man's sight  
A deed, which doth our virtue try.   

But most renown to him is due,  
Who, as his own, his foes disgrace  
With woeful heart doth wail and rue,  
And him to help doth hast a pace.   

And eke his prompt to do no less  
When that he seeth his wife or child,  
His man or maid in great distress  
And praying aid with words full mild.   

For stony hearts have they iwis  
That would not praise so great a grace:  
And think him worthy all men's bliss,  
That mercy such will than embrace.   

When Cesar made the Pictures fair,  
Of Pompey to be set again,  
That down were cast out of their chair,  
Much praise thereby he did than gain.   

For Tully said, O worthy wight,  
By tendering thus, thy foe's renown  
Thou haste thine own, so well yplight:  
As never power shall throw it down.   

Wherefore I say thy mortal foe  
Which doth deserve to have great land  
Deprive thou not unjustly tho:  
By spiteful means, or wicked fraud.   

Sith that the more thou dost him praise,  
The greater praise thou shalt obtain,  
Besides belief, when to dyspraise  
Thou shalt disposed be again.   

For no man than, will judge or dame,  
That thou dost hate his parsonage:  
But rather as doth best beseem,  
Dost hate his vice, and ill usage.   

The best yet is, that by this way  
Non envy shall in us remain:  
Ne shall we grudge to hear men say  
Our friend to be full just and plain.   

Or all men else texcell and pass,  
In this or that good quality,  
Whereat the spiteful heart alas,  
Would fret, and right sore moved be.   

What virtue than more profitable  
Or goodly, may our minds retain  
Than this, whereby, we be made able:  
To purge the venom of disdain.   

In common weals, some ill decrees,  
Ill custom doth so well approve  
That though thereby some lose their fees:  
Yet none with ease may them remove.   

In enmite likewise we see  
Be many faults, as hateful spite,  
Of others grieves right glad to be  
Besides suspect both day and night.   

The calling eke of wrongs to mind,  
And many other hurtful vice,  
As fraud, and guile, and means to find,  
To traitors trains our foe tentyce.   

Which things full oft to use with foes  
We take it as none ill doubtless:  
And whilst our minds we so dispose,  
Our faults remain without redress.   

For if we never use tabstaine,  
Against our foes such parts to play:  
Ill custom shall us eke constrain,  
Our friends to dress in like array.   

Pythagoras did men deny,  
To hunt, to hawk, or bird to slay  
And fish in net would often buy,  
To cast again into the sea.   

No bruit beast eke, of gentle race  
Would he have slain in any wise  
Lest fierce affects we should embrace  
Through such a cruel exercise.   

More goodly, yet it were to flee  
Such evil affects through sufferance  
And showing oft ourselves to be  
Right just to foes in variance.   

So shall we use no kind of guile  
Ne fraud with friends in their affares  
But shall be plain and think it vile  
One word unkind, to speak unwares.   

When Scaurus at the law did sew,  
Domitius his mortal foe:  
Domitius a slave untrue,  
Had then with him that fled him fro.   

Which slave forthwith to Scaurus went,  
His masters secrets, to disclose,  
But Scaurus seeing his intent:  
His ears full fast, did stop and close.   

And nought would hear against his foe,  
By such a wretch, as would him trey,  
Yea, more he bond him fast also:  
And home again him sent strait way.   

When Cato likewise matter sought  
Against Muren to fortify  
Thaccusement late before him brought,  
He nothing did maliciously.   

For such as after him did go,  
(As was the wont) to hear and see:  
If that self day, did ask him tho,  
The matter should discussed be:   

To whom when he had once said nay,  
They by and by did all depart,  
And thought it true which he did say,  
Such faith of him was in their heart.   

But Simond saith, as every lark,  
Of force must have his coppid crest:  
So natures gift, if ye well mark,  
Some spite doth breed, in each man's breast.   

For which amongst light friends, it were  
Right good, as Pyndar doth suppose:  
Of ill affects, our minds to clear  
by pouring them into our foes.   

And as a sink our foes temploy  
Our filthy faults to keep in store,  
The stench whereof might else annoy  
Our faithful friends, and grieve them sore.   

In Syo sprang one time such strife  
That all the town in factions twain  
Divided was: then was in life,  
Onomadem, a man full plain.   

And courteous eke to every wight,  
Who chanced on that side to be  
That won the field by force of fight,  
To whom he gave this counsel free.   

Expel not all (quoth he) your deed  
That did resist: but some retain,  
Lest lack of foes, may hatred breed,  
Amongst ourselves, unto our pain.   

hesiod saith, whereas like art  
Nigh neighboured, or kindred is  
The good success of either part,  
Each one tenuye it were amiss.   

But if you can none other way  
From spite abstain, accustom than  
The wealthy state and good array  
Of those your foes, to curse and ban.   

For like as gardeners good of skill,  
The garlic strong: by rosis soot  
Do use to set, all savours ill,  
From them to draw, even from the root.   

Our foes even so that do receive  
Our froward faults, our minds full fell  
Do rid of grief, which we conceive,  
To see our friends to prosper well.   

With foes therefore we should then strive,  
For honour, rule, and true got gain,  
And not to fret when that they thrive,  
Or more than we, do chance tattaine.   

Ye rather more we should observe  
Their doings all in every case,  
And how they did such things deserve,  
That learn we might them how to pass.   

Themistocles was wont to tell  
He could not sleep for thinking on  
The victory, that whilom fell  
Milthiad to, in Marathon.   

It is a slothful grudge and hate,  
The virtues of thy foes to spite:  
And none of them to imitate  
Because thou thinkest they pass thy might.   

But where as hate thy judgement clear  
Corrupteth not his diligence:  
And industry doth then appear,  
Which drives away thy negligence.   

But if he seem in princes hall,  
Or common weal, right high estate  
To have him got by service thrall  
Or flattering means, rejoice thereat.   

And think thyself an happy wight,  
For that thou mayst thy honest life:  
Compare with his in all men's sight  
And win great praise withouten strife.   

For Plato saith, no gold on earth  
Or under earth, ne precious stone:  
One spark of virtue can be worth,  
Which passeth all comparison.   

Ne Solon eke, would change his state  
In virtue fixed for vain renown  
Ne did he care to be check mate  
With noble men in every town.   

He stemed not the people's praise  
Whose wandering wits are like the wind  
Now hear now there at all assays  
Their yea, with nay, full soon tonbind.   

No worthy state that seems to be,  
Can worthy be, in very deed  
Except the means thereto pardie  
Of worthy acts did first proceed.   

But like as love, doth lovers blind  
Even so we spy, the faults of foes  
Much farther of, than we can find  
The faults of friends before our no's   

Rejoice not than with joy in vain  
Because thy foe doth chance toffende,  
Ne take no grief without some gain,  
To see what good his works pretend.   

But ponder well these cases twain,  
His vice and virtues both I say  
And first his vice from vice tabstaine  
And therein pass him far away.   

His virtues than thou shalt do well  
To imitate in their degree:  
And though thou canst not him excel  
Yet see thou be not worse than he.   
Finis.   

¶ Imprinted at London by William Seres, dwelling at the west end of Paul's, at the Sign of the Hedgehog. Anno. 1561.   

¶ The port of rest.   

Like as the mighty Oak whose roots,  
In th'earth are fixed fast:  
Is able to withstand each wind,  
That blows most boisterous blast.  
Even so each froward Fortune's hap  
That ever may betide:  
The constant mind with virtue fraught  
is able to abide.   

¶ To the true lovers of wisdom john Asteley, master of the Queen's majesties jewel house, and john Harington Esquire Thomas Blundeville, greeting.  

WHilst plutarks works, I gave myself to read  
So pleasant fruit me thought, I could none fid  
As is in that which rightly shows in deed  
The way t'appease, and still thunquiet mind.   

For whereas since false flattering hope with whom  
I travelde had, long time full painfully,  
Of comfort void, alone me left to rome  
The barren cost of wretched misery:   

In stead of helping me the seas to pass  
Of worldly joys, amongst the happy sort,  
In ship full fraught with fortunes gifts: as was  
Her vow when first to me she did resort:   

The restless muse had made my feeble brain  
The forge of care, and therein daily wrought  
Such dulfull domps & dreadful dreams as clean  
From mirth my mind unto despair had brought.   

That book did yield such glistering beams isaiah.  
Of comfort great and joyful quietness:  
As drove those dumps and sorrows all away  
My heavy heart which held in great distress.   

So as in deed from that time forth me thought  
I could not choose but needs contented rest  
And though before vain hope much grief had wrought  
Yet now to think that all was for the best.   

Which comfort though it grateful was to me  
In my conceit yet did it not suffice:  
unless that you my faithful friends might be  
Eke partners of the same some kind of wise.   

For as the grief of one friend doth decrease  
His other friends, when they thereof partake  
His joy even so he shall the more increase  
If of the same, he doth them partners make.   

Into our tongue therefore this little quaire  
I turned have, and termed the port of rest  
And wish each wight, thereto for to repair  
with troubled spirit that feels himself oppressed.   

For as the mariner, in sea whose boat  
With cruel storms and tempests hath been beat  
And driven twixt waves & fearful rocks to float  
Though all that while despair his mind did fret:   

Yet when the winds their boisterous blowing cease  
And he to haven is safely come at last  
He than rejoiceth with himself in peace  
And clean forgeates all those his dangers past:   

Even so each man within this little port  
That shall vouchsafe at times more ydley spent  
To harborough a while: himself to sport  
When he perceives his mind to sorrow bend:   

To warrant him I dare be bold I say  
That though he be in passing heaviness  
Yet he thereby shall quickly learn the way  
To rid his mind of all unquietness.   

Ne shall he fear the loss in time to come  
Of friends, of goods, of life, or like distress  
But live and die, by help of reason's doom  
In such assured hold of quietness:   

As neither froward fortunes sharp assaults,  
Nor death himself, for all his dreadful name  
Ne malice eke with all her forged faults  
Shall be of power to overthrow the same.   

To you therefore to whom I am much bound  
And tall the rest, lo here now for your sake  
Of this my pain such fruit as hath redound  
In friendly wise I do a present make.   

Whose relles though it be not half so sweet  
Ne hath such sap of eloquence in deed  
As those things have whereon (as meats most meet  
For dainty mouths) you wonted are to feed.   

Yet doubt I not but that vouchsafe you will,  
To take it well in worth, and specially  
 Budes words in all this treatise still  
I folowd have in deed most faithfully.   

Whose style I found to be more grave than gay  
And hard to turn into our vulguer speech,  
Yet as it is refuse not when you may  
To taste thereof I humbly you beseech.  
For though it hap not dainty mouths to please  
Weak stomachs yet thereby may find much ease.    

PLUTARCH TO HIS friend Paccius.  
THy letters mine own good Paccius wherein thou didst exhort me to write somewhat unto thee, so well touching the quietness of the mind, as also concerning those points in Plato his book called Timeo: (which to thy seeming needed a more exquisite and plainer declaration:) Came very late unto my hands. For even as our friend Erotes was ready to take ship for to sail towards Rome they were delivered to me in haste, by that good man Fundanus. Whereby I not having time sufficient to write unto thee according to my wont and custom of such things as thou didst require: nor yet being able to suffer such a messenger to depart from me with empty hand: briefly gathered certain things entreating of the tranquillity of the mind out of such Commentaries as I had written in times passed concerning the same. trusting that in such kind of writings thou wilt not look for fine terms and eloquent speech: But only have regard to the good doctrine thereof, which may help to instruct & order man's life. And I think it already brought to some good pass. Because that although thou art knit in friendship (and that not after the common sort) with great men and worthy Princes, and hast also such knowledge and experience in matters of law, as thou givest place to no man therein: yet for all that thou art not like the tragical Meroppes puffed up with vain glory, or foolyshlye amazed at the rejoicing of the people, which hath thee in great admiration, extolling thee with infinite praises. Neither dost thou forget to have hard oftimes how that the shoe be it never so gay, can not heal the gouty foot, nor the gold ring the disease in the finger, nor yet that the rich Crown of gold and stone can once ease the pain of the head. For to whom may riches, honour, glory, or pre-eminence in Court, serve to put away grief of the mind, or to lead a quiet life? But to such, as when they have these things, can rightly use them, and when they lack them, patiently suffer the lack thereof. But how can that be done? but only by reason premeditate, and accustomed immediately to reprehend the passable, and unreasonable part of the soul, so often as it bursteth out, and not to suffer it to range any further abroad, and so to be turned out of the right way, by the urgent provocation of unbrydiled affection. And therefore as Zenophon willed all men in their prosperity to have most remembrance of the Gods, and then, most earnestly and devoutly to worship them, to th'intent that the gods being thereby already reconciled and rendered more favourable towards them, they might afterward when occasion should serve, the boldlier make petition, and crave the thing that should behove them: Even so all sayings & writings as be most apt to appease the troubles of the mind, aught amongst men that have reason to be first hid and fixed in the mind, to the intent that such things being prepared of a long time before, when need should require might serve them to most advantage. For as chourlyshe mastyffes be moved with every noise: and yet quieted by one known voice whereunto they be commonly used: Even so it is very hard for man to quiet the outrageous and bestial affects of the mind, except he hath some familiar and accustomed precepts and lessons ready at hand to still the fervent rage thereof. But such as think that to lead a quiet life, it behoveth not to do many things, nor to be much occupied either in private or public affairs: those would make us to buy the tranquillity of the life full dear. Sith that then, it could not be gotten but by sloth and idleness, exhorting every man thereunto as though he were sick, by that tragical verse, which saith in this wise.  
Abide thou silly wretch, and move not from thy bed,  
Wherein thou mayest lie warm, & eke full well befedde.  
For if privy sloth be to the body a hurtful Medicine: than sluggishness, delicateness, and faintness of courage which causeth a man to forsake both kyffe, kin, and country, is like wise as evil a physician to heal the sickness and trouble of the mind. Moreover it is repugnant to truth, to say that those men which do least labour and seldomist travel abroad, do lead most quiet life. For than women should live much more quietly than men. Because that women for the most part do tarry at home doing little, and what they do, they do it sitting on their stools. And yet as Hesiodus saith, though the cold Northene wind cannot by violence break in, to blow upon the young and tender damoiselles: yet griefs, troubles, sorrows, and evil dispositions of the mind through jealousy, superstition, vain glory, & such like innumerable vices do find the means secretly to creep into their privy dorters. It is said also that Laertes forsook his Country, his house, and the Court itself, and lived twenty years in a little Cottage all alone by himself, having none other company, but a silly old woman which served him of meat and drink. And yet for all that he had both sorrowfulness of heart, and heaviness in countenance, to be his companions maugre his head. Yea what will you say if this doing of nothing, hath oft times disturbed many men's wits and senses: as you may read in Homer speaking of Achilles in this sort.  
Here sits in ship, Achilles' swift whom jove begot  
To fury bent, refusing firmly now to fight  
Of all the Lords & commons eke, esteeming not  
The counsels wise: which cause man's fame to shine full bright  
He faints in heart, and yet forthwith to fight oath cry  
And moves himself, the feats of cruel Mars to try.  
And therefore he being sore grieved to see himself so lost with idleness: in a great rage reproved himself, saying in this wise.  
Lo here I sit, full like a heavy lump of clay,  
This Navewe great, to keep in idleness always.  
Wherefore Epicurus himself the fautour and mainteynor of all pleasure and voluptuousness would not have those that by nature are ambitious & desirous of glory to give themselves to idleness: but rather to follow nature as their guide, & to seek to bear rule & office in a common wealth. For such men as be naturally inclined to be doing: cannot quietly suffer to be deprived of the thing wherein they most delight. notwithstanding he is unwise that will choose such men into a common wealth, as cannot moderate themselves and forbear the rule thereof: rather than those that be able, both to rule themselves and the common wealth also. Thus than you see it is not meet, to measure the quietness and carefulness of the mind by multitude or fewness of affairs. For it is no less trouble and grief to leave undone that which is good and honest, then to do that which is nought and vile. But there be some which will prescribe & appoint themselves before, to follow one certain kind of life, which they take to be void of all care & trouble, as to be husbandemennes, or to live unmarried, or else to be Princes and rulers: which sort of men how much they be deceived, Menander doth plainly declare, by these words here following.  I think, O Phania that rich men which have no need to borrow upon usury to pay their creditors, do not lie tumbling and tossing in their beds, lamenting in the night season by themselves, and crying out full oft woo is me: but do sleep sweetly and quietly. 
But proceeding a little further, he found the rich to be no less troubled than the poor. For life (sayeth he) and trouble been as it were of one kind, and borne both at one birth. For trouble is compaignyon to the voluptuous and delicate life, and waxeth old with the poor & miserable life. But as those that be fearful, of a weak stomach, and not able to brook the Seas: when they sail on the Seas, will remove many times out of a little Boat into a great ship and from thence into a galley, thinking thereby to be immediately easid of their grief, until such time they feel that they profit nothing in so doing, because that wheresoever they go, they carry with them that Chooler & fearfulness which is within them: Even so the often change of sundry kinds of life cannot deliver the mind from such griefs and troubles as these be. That is to say Ignorance, and lack of Experience, foolish rashness, lack of knowledge and power to use things present in their due kind. For these be the things that v●xe both rich and poor, and trouble so well the married as the unmarried. Nor none other cause then this doth make such as have forsaken the city for to dwell in the Country: to be weary again of the Country, and to return eftsoons into the city. These things also cause many men which by great help and importunate suit, have placed themselves in kings Courts: anon after, to repent their labour so bestowed. A sick man as jon sayeth is a very unpleasant thing, for he cannot abide his wife, he blameth his Physician and is angry with his bed. If his friend cometh to visit him he doth but trouble him. And if he depart from him, he doth again offend him. But after that his disease beginneth to assuage and to be somewhat more temperate: Then cometh health by little and little, making all things delectable and pleasant. In such sort that whereas the day before he did loath new laid Eggs, dainty Broths, and the finest bread that might be gotten: The next day after, can hungerly eat a piece of common bread, with a few cresses. Of such importance is a good discorse in all changes of the life, th'only force whereof procureth the happy life. It is said that when Alexander heard the Philosopher Anaxharcus, affirming in disputation, that there were innumerable worlds: he weapte for sorrow. And being demanded by his friends what just cause he had to weep: he answered. Have we not just cause (quoth he) to weep: sith there be so many worlds and we be not as yet lords of one? But Crates the poorly clad Philosopher, contrariwise consumed all his life to the last day in sport & laughter as though they were all festival days. Agamemnon likewise king of the Micens' was not a little troubled, for that he had the rule of so many men. Of whom Homer talking saith thus.  
Thou knowest right well Atreus son.  
That cleped, is Agamemnon  
Whom moste of all with Labours great  
joves' pleasure is, to vex and fret.  
When Diogenes the Philosopher was in the market amongst others to be sold, and was commanded by the Crier which should sell him to rise up: He would not so do, but jested with the Crier demanding of him, if he brought a fish to sell whither he would bid it rise up or not? So little he esteemed his mysserable state. Did not Socrates likewise being in prison fast chained & fettered, stoodye wisdom and dispute of philosophy amongst his disciples and Scholars? But look again on tother side how Phaeton climbing up into the heavens, with weeping tears complained, because that no man would give him the government of his father's horse & chariot. As the shoe is wont to be wriethed and turned to serve a crooked foot, and not contrariwise the foot to fit a crooked shoe: Even so the state and disposition of the mind, must make every kind of life that is offered, semblable and agreeing to herself. Nor it is not custom as some men affirm, which maketh pleasant the life that they have chosen as best for themselves: But rather wisdom maketh the same life best, and most pleasant. Therefore let us first labour to purge, to purify, and to make so clean as is possible, the flowing fountain of the tranquillity of the mind, which is within us, to th'intent that we may make all outward things coming unto us by chance: pliant, and apt to serve the purpose, through our patiented sufferance. For though things do not succeed well according to our desire: yet it behoveth not us to be angry therewith, sith anger thereto nought appertaineth. Yea, he is to be praised that by art and policy can soon redress such evil success. And therefore Plato compared man's life to the dice play, in the which although the player ought to desire every best cast: yet how so ever it chanceth, he must take skilful heed to dispose each cast in the best wise that he can, according as the chance will bear it. Of which two things, the one, that is the chance of the die, consisteth not in our power. But the other lieth in us to perform. That is to say if we be wise, to take patiently whatsoever chanceth, and tappoynte every one his right place, in such sort that whatsoever chanceth well, may be applied to most advantage, & that which happeneth otherwise to least damage. But foolish men and unexpert, in knowing how to live: be like unto a diseased body which can neither suffer heat nor cold. For in prosperity they be fresh and gay, and look pleasantly. But in adversity they bend the brows and look all frowardly. And therefore both states do trouble them, yea rather in them both they trouble themselves. And no less also be they troubled in those things which of themselves are thought to be good. Theodorus which surnamed is Atheus, was wont oftentimes to say, that he reached forth his words with the right hand, but they received them with the left, even so fares thignorant sort, which when fortune many times would come unto them on the right side: they most undecentlye turning themselves away, do place her on the left. But much better do the wisemen, which like as bees do make honey, which is of all things most sweet, of Thyme the driest herb and of most bitter juice: So they of most harmful things do choose out many times, some thing that is to them both meet and profitable. Which thing is most chief to be studied and with much exercise of the mind to be laboured. For as he that when he had thrown a stone at a snarling bitch, and missing her, unwillynglye by chance hit his stepdame: said unto himself that his throw was not altogether evil bestowed: even so when chance chanceth not according to our desire, we may amend it, and apply it to some other use. Diogenes was banished out of his country, and yet this had none evil success, for the same banishement gave him first occasion to study Philosophy. Zenon Citicus being become of a Philosopher, a notable rich merchant by misfortune lost all that he had save one ship, which afterward, when he heard that it was also lost by tempest in the Sea, together with all his monne and merchandise freighted in the same: he said.  O Fortune how nobly hast thou dealt with me, thus to drive me unto the Philosophical haven, and to wear again that unaccustomed apparel. 
What doth let us then but that we may take example at these men and follow them? Haste thou been deprived of any office in the city? go then into the country, and attend thine own private affairs. Hast thou by importunate suit, labour to creep into thy Prince's favour, and suffered crepulse therein? Thou shalt then thereby live in safety, & free from all manner of charge and commission of his affairs. But perhaps contrariwise, thou art troubled with to many offices & wrappeth in too many cares: I say to thee that warm water doth not so much nourish and comfort the tender and delicate body (as sayeth Pyndarus) as honour, and glory, joined with power, and authority, doth make labour to seem pleasant, and easily employed. But thou art offended and grieved because others do talk of thee, or bear thee envy, or unjustly slander thee: well, this is but a prosperous wind meet to carry thee unto the Musis and into thuniversities. As it chanced to Plato, at such times as he was taken unwares with the friendship of Dionysius, as though it had been with a cruel storm or tempest. And therefore it helpeth not a little towards the quieting of the mind, diligently to note and to mark th'examples of the worthy and famous men, whether perchance they have suffered the like evil at any time, through the like occasion. As for example, the loss of thy children doth grieve thee: behold then the Kings of Rome, whereof there was not one that left a son behind him to inherit the kingdom. Thou canst not patiently endure poverty: whom than wouldst thou wish to be amongst the Boetians, rather than Epaminondas, or amongst the Romans, rather than Fabritius? But put case thy wife be nought of her body. Well, dost thou not know that Epigram of Aegides which is in Delphos? Haste thou not heard also how that Alcibiades defiled Aegides wife called Timea, and how she herself was wont to call the child that she brought forth Alcibiades, and to whisper in her maidens ears that they likewise should so call him? and yet Aegides was no more letted by this, to prove a right noble and famous man: then Stilpo the Philosopher was letted by the unchasteness of his daughter, to lead a merrier life than all the Philosophers in his tyme. Which thing being afterwards cast in his teeth, by one Metrocles: is then saith he, this my fault, or my daughters? The other answered, that the fault was his daughters, but the evil chance and mishap was his. How can that be (quoth he?) For be not faults negligent, oversights and human frailties? The other answered, yes in deed. But then (quoth Stilpo,) be not the negligent oversights the errors also of them that be overseen? Metrocles answered, yes certainly. Why then said Stilpo should not therrors be the misfortunes of those that have so erred? By such kind of pleasant talk & Philosophical quietness he declared the objections of tother to be no other thing, but the slanderous talk & vain barkings of a currish fellow. There be many also that be not only moved with the vices of their friends & kinsfolks, but also with those of their enemies. For whereas opprobrious words, anger, envy, dishonesty, spiteful jealousy, should most chief distain those men in whom they reign: yet the self same vices trouble also & move thignorant sort, no less than the displeasures of their own kinsfolks, or the frowardness of their friends & familiars, or the wicked wits & evil disposed minds of their own slaves & servants, wherewith thou thyself also as it seemeth to me, art wont to be moved. For as those Physicians that be mentioned in Sophocles do purge bitter choler with a bitter medicine: even so thou art wont to be angry with the diseases & naughty dispositions of other men's minds, & with like bitterness of thine own mind (which is little to thy worship) to answer them. And therefore those things which thou dost, be not done with a gentle & plain behaviour, the meetest instrument for the purpose, but for the most part after a rough, crooked, and frooward sort? And as to correct this fault, is more than thou canst well perform: so it is also in deed not very easy to be done. But if thou couldst apply those things to their right use whereunto they were ordained, like as chirurgeons do their tooth drawing instruments, their lancing knives, & closing boocles, and show in thyself such meekness & modesty every where according as occasion doth require: thou shouldest be no more offended with the lewd behaviour and wickedness of others, then rejoiced within thyself with the conscience of thine own affection. For thou shouldest think it no more unmeet for such persons so to do: than it is unnatural for dogs to bark. But if thou be so feeble and weak of courage that thou wilt suffer thyself to be oppressed by other men's evils: numbers of griefs flowing into thee, as into an abject place low couched & apt to receive the same, shall overwhelm thee, thou miserable man waxing every day more sicker than other. Yea what will you say, if many of the Philosophers have reproved the compassion wherewith we are moved when we see any man in misery, affirming it to be the part of a good man, to help his kinsfolks and neighbours, when they be afflicted with misery, and are by fortune overthrown: but not to be partakers of their sorrow, or to yield to fortune with like subjection of the mind. Yea and that which to every man's judgement seemeth a great deal more strange. Though we know ourselves to have offended and to be of a naughty disposition: yet for all that they will not suffer us to be sorrowful in our mind for the same, because those things ought to be corrected and amended (say they) without grief or heaviness of the mind. If things be thus, consider well whether it be not a foul thing for us to be displeased and angry, whensoever any man with whom we have to do, doth perhaps deal with us somewhat ungentlely or extremely. But I fear me (O most friendly Paccius that self love doth deceive us, & that we be not so much grieved with other men's offences, as pleased with our own deserts. For the vehement affecting & inordinate following of certain things, or contrariwise thavoiding & abhorring of the same, otherwise then honesty requireth: doth breed many times debate and strife amongst men, and causeth the one to be offended with the other, whilst th'one doth attribute to thothers fault, for that he hath been prevented of this commodity, or hath fallen into that danger. But if a man could according to the success of things use to frame himself every way in a moderate sort: that man with great facility might learn to live with all men in all places. But now let us return again to those things, from the which we have for a while digressed. As those that be sick of an ague to whom all things do seem bitter so soon as they taste thereof, until they see that others without making any sign of bitter taste, do greedily eat those meats which they did so loathsomely spit out: do no longer than attribute the fault to the meat or to the drink, but to themselves & to their sickness: even so if we see that others with great quietness of mind & with a merry countenance, do perform the self-same things which we pass over with great regreate and sorrowful complaints: let us then leave at length to be so much grieved and offended with the things themselves. But for to reteygne a constant mind in time of adversity, it is very necessary and expedient, not to pass over with winking eyes those things which luckily according to our desire at any time have chanced unto us, & so with a meet mixture the evil mishaps, with happy haps to recompense. To recreate our eyes, when they be dazzled with overmuch beholding of glistering things, we use to turn them away, & to behold pleasant green herbs & flowers. And yet our minds we do contrariwise dispose to Melancholy & sorrowful things, forcing it to have remembrance of things most worthy repentance, and by violence we pull it away whether it will or not from such things as are to be commended & praised. And now it cometh to my remembrance, that to this purpose may be very well applied the saying which was sometime spoken against a curious fellow that busily searched after other men's matters nothing appertaining unto him.  Why a mischief dost thou most spiteful man with kites eyes so narrowly mark other men's faults, and with the eyes of an Owl blindly passest over thine own. 
Even so thou happy man, why dost thou so diligently regard thy griefs and evil mishaps, making them always present and fresh before thine eyes by continual remembrance, and turnest thy mind from present joy and prosperity. And like as scaryfyinge cups wherewith Physicians use to draw the foulest blood out of the flesh: so thou dost gather thy worst things into thyself. Being in that case no better then the merchant of Syo, who though he sold much wine, yea and that principal good to others: yet sought out always for himself that which was sour and without verdure. Whose servant being on a time fled from him was demanded of one what cause had constrained him to forsake his master? because (quoth he) my master having good things in his custody will take no part thereof, but always for himself seeketh the worst. There be many like this man, which forsaking the sweetest drinks do take them unto the sourest and most harsh of taste. But Aristippus did not so, who being placed as it were betwixt a pair of balance, would not descend into the heaviest and most pressed down with evils, but mounted up to the highest and least chargied with grief. For when he had lost the plesanteste lordship that he had: he spoke to one of those men which showed themselves to be very sorry for the loss thereof and to lament much his fortune: in this wise. Dost thou not know (quoth he) that thou hast but one little farm to live on, and I have three manors with the demeans yet left hole unto myself? that is true said the other. Why, then (quoth he) should not I be rather sorry for thee, than thou for me? For it is very mad●es to be sorry for things lost, & not to rejoice in things saved. And as little children when any man, of many things taketh but one little trifle from them do weep and cry out casting all the rest away: even so we being in any one little thing by fortune disturbed: we lament and complain rejecting all the rest as unprofitable. But some man perchance would say what have we to rejoice in? yea rather, what have we not? This man hath great honour, that man a fair house, this man a wife, according to his mind, that man a faithful friend. Antipater tarsensis counting in his death bed upon his fingers all the good things that ever he had in his life time: did not omit so much as his prosperous sailing out of Cilitia unto Athens. Nor these common things ought to be neglected, yea we ought to make some count of them. As for that we live and be in health also for that we see the Sun, and that there is neither war nor sedition, that the land is errable, and the Sea easy for every man to sail on, finally for that it is free for us to speak, and to keep silence to be occupied and to be idle. But the presence of these things would give us the greater occasion of quietness: if we would fix in our mind the Image of th'absence and lack of the same. Oftentimes admonishing ourselves how greatly health is desired of them that be sick, and peace wished for of those that be troubled with war. And how much the straungyer being of low degree, desireth to get honour and fame in such a noble City, and again how bitter a thing it is to lose that which was once gotten. For in mine opinion none of these things, or such like, aught to be esteemed or wished for, being once lost: sith that nothing is to be the more regarded for that it leaveth to have his being: neither yet ought we to possess these things as things of excellency or to keep them with such carefulness, watching them continually lest we should be spoiled of them as of things of price: yea rather though we safely possess than, yet as transitory things we ought to neglect them and little regard them. For these things ought to be used and enjoyed with pleasure, and chief to th'intent that if we should chance to lose them: we might the more quietly and moderately suffer the loss thereof. But many as Archesilaus saith, think it labour well bestowed one man to come after another in course and order for to behold with fixed eye, and mind, the poesies, pictures, & images of others: neglecting their own life, which though it hath many considerations and advertisements and that not unpleasant: yet they turning their eyes another way, do rather consider & behold other men's fortunes, like adulterers, which abhorring their own wives, do covet other men's, leading their lives in great error. For it importeth much towards the preserving of the mind in this constant estate: first for a man to weigh and ponder himself and his own peculiar things, Or if he will not so do then to behold and to consider his inferiors. And not contrariwise as the common sort doth, to marvel at those whom fortune doth extol and advance to the highest degree of honour and riches, so often as she is disposed to dally and play with them. As for example, such as remain bound and chained in prison, think those to be happy that be discharged and set at liberty. And those that be set at liberty, count them happiest that have been always free & never imprisoned, & they that have been always free, count them happy that be free of the city. Again those that be free of the city, judge them fortunate that be rich. The rich, the rulers, the rulers, the kings, the kings, the gods, which also be not content with their rule and kingdom, except they have power to send down lightning and thunder. So that when they cannot be equal with their superiors: they never keep themselves within their own precinct. I care not (saith Thasius) for all the riches of that notable rich man Gyges', nor do I much marvel at them, nor I seek not to counterfeit the marvelous works of the gods, nor yet do I greatly desire to have rule or dominion. For these things be far from my thought and clean out of my sight, thus spoke Thasius. But lo, on the contrary side one of Syo, and also another of Galathia, & one of Bythinia, who not contented to have gotten honour, and office of rule amongst his Citizens: doth yet complain with weeping tears, for that he is not one of the Senate house, which if thou shouldst grant him, yet it would not content him except he might be also Praetor, nor to be Praetor, except he might be Consul, which though at length he obteygned: yet would he not be satisfied, unless he might be first published and proclaimed. What is this I pray you, but a tormenting and a continual punishing of himself, accusing Fortune of ingratituding. But the wise man, though of so great a number of mortal men: as we be that live in this world enjoying the light of the Sun, and are fed with the fruits of the earth: he seeth one or two to excel him, either in honour or richesse, yet doth not he for all that fit lamenting by himself and wringing his hands together, but rather considering how well he is dealt with, in respect of an infinite number that be in misery: he rejoiceth with himself and embraceth his own estate and condition of life. At the Plays of prizes, it was lawful for no man to proceed Master of fence, or to be accounted as vanquerour, except he had played with every one that came first to hand, without any choice or election permitted at al. And yet in our life there is such variety of things, that every man hath leave to choose many with whose estate he may compare himself and his estate. And to take thereby occasion tencourage himself, & to show himself more meet to be marveled at of others, than he to marvel at them, except he be so impudent that he would look to be fellow unto Briareus or to Hercules. And therefore whensoever thou liftest up thy head to behold any noble man borne a fit in a chair on men's shoulders: cast down thine eyes by and by to look also upon them that bear him. Again so often as thou shalt marvel at Xerxes and count him happy, for that he had such power to make a bridge over the sea called Helles Pontus for him and all his army to pass: consider then also the miserable slaves that by stripes of whips were then forced to dig in the mountain Athos, & to make way there, for the sea to pass, and how some of them were mangled and hewed, and lost both nose and ears, by means that the bridge being broken by rage of sea fell down upon them, and think that they would extol thee and thy condition of life with infinite praises. When a certain friend of Socrates came upon a time unto him complaining that all things in the city were sold at excessive prices, for wine of Syo was at. xl.s. purple at vi.li. and half a pint of honey at. xx.d. Socrates taking him by the hand brought him into the storehouse of meal, and told him that he might have half a pint of that for a halfpenny, and therefore corn was cheap. Then he led him into the oil seller, and showed him that he might have a pint of that for two brass pence, wherefore quoth he all things in the city be not dear. Even so if we hear any man say that our estate is very poor and miserable, because we be not consuls or bear some other high office in the city: we may answer him again, that our estate and condition of life is right excellent and honourable, for that we have no need to beg from door to door, nor to bear heavy packs and burdens on our shoulders as the porters do, nor yet like Parasites to follow and to flatter great men for a dinner sake. But though we be come to such madness that our life seemeth to depend more of other men's, than of itself: and that our nature is so degenerate, and with envious affects corrupted, that we be not so much rejoiced with our own, as grieved with other men's prosperity: yet I say if thou wouldst not only behold the famous things and worthy to be seen, that are in those men, whom thou thinkest to be so happy, and to be as they say, in god's lap: but also wouldst draw back that goodly fair veil, and outward show of their glory, and look further in: truly thou shouldst find many of their entrails to be right sour and grievous to behold. When that Pittacus who is yet so famous for the great wisdom, fortitude, and justice, wherewith he was endued, enterteygned at his Table certain gheastes whom he had invited to his house: it is said that his wife coming in suddenly, overthrew the board in a great rage and laid all the meat on the floor, wherewith he perceiving his gheastes to be somewhat moved, said thus unto them. Every one of you is grieved with some kind of evil, and yet I in this kind of state as you see, do always think myself marvelously well dealt with all. This man in the Market place is judged to be fortunate and happy, but so soon as he cometh with in his own doors, he seemeth to be (I will not say a wretch or a miser) but even very misery itself. For there, his wife possesseth all, and ruleth all imperiously at her own will, with whom he must continually, fight, chide, and brawl, Yet said he to his gheastes, many things do grieve you, but nothing can grieve me at all. The like troubles be incident also to states of honour, to rich men, yea, and to kings themselves, and yet not marked of the rude & unlearned sort, because the curtain of pride and glory is drawn before their eyes, behind the which all things lieth hidden. And therefore they having regard only to the prosperity, and not to the adversity of other men, do say with Homer.  
How happy was Agamemnon  
Of all the Greeks moste worthy wight  
To whom all fate gave place alone  
Whilst fortune gave her child such might.  
But this strange kind of felicity or happiness, did consist in harness, horses, and hosts of men gathered about him, and therefore hear now again, the inward voice of his sorrowful mind, crying out against the insolency of such glory.  
In grievous cares and deadly smart  
Thus jove hath wrappeth my woeful heart.  
And therefore he counted those most happy that were free from all peril, never advanced to honour but died without glory. With these and such like kind of discourses, a man by little and little pull out of his mind that iniquity, which is always complaining and blaming fortune, and elevate his desperate mind, which whilst it hath others in admiration: doth reject and abase itself and all that it possesseth. For truly it doth greatly break the quiet state of the mind, when a man towards the atcheaving of any thing doth force himself above his power, and as it were, beareth a greater sail than his proportion requireth. For being led by a little reioyceing hope, we rashly promise great things to ourselves, and then if the success do not answer thereto accordingly: we accuse fortune & our Angel of unjustness and partiality. Whereas we ought rather to condemn ourselves of small discretion, and foolish rashness. As though we should be angry with Fortune, because we cannot shoot an arrow out of a plough, or hunt the Hare with an ox, & as though some unjust god did hinder those that vainly went about to hunt the Heart in chariots, and not to be rather angry with our own madness and foolishness in attempting to bring to pass things unpossible. The cause of this error, is none other, but only self love, for whilst men that love themselves to much: do attribute with great comparison, the chiefest honour in all places to themselves: they wax so heady and so stubborn, that they leave no enterprise unattempted. Nor it is not enough for them to be rich, eloquent and pleasant companions at the board, yea to be friended with kings, to bear rule and office, except they may have also the best dogs, the fairest horses, cocks, & quails, with other like birds of pleasure, for else they can never be quiet in mind. Dionysius th'elder was not contented to be the greatest and most mighty tyrant that was in his time, but thinking it all to little and far unworthy his estate, because he was not also so good in vercefying as Philoxenus the Poet, nor so eloquent as Plato: he was moved thereby to wrath which overcame him. And therefore he banished Philoxenus into Latumias' & sent Plato to be sold in Aegina. But Alexander did not so, at such time as he contended with Brison, whose chariot should run swiftest, for (they say) he was highly displeased with Brison, because that Brison to flatter him did not his best, but suffered him to win the race. Wherefore Homer speaking of Achilles and Ulysses, did very well to give each man his due praise in this wise.  
Of all the Greeks there was not one  
In chivalry that could him pass  
But law to plead such one there was  
As him excelde who was alone.  
Megabisus perses coming on a time into Apelles shop began to talk I know not what of the art of payncting whose unskilful prating Apelles not suffering: said thus unto him. Before that thou diddest utter thyself by thy talk, we had some good opinion of thee, because thy garments of Gold and purple did beautify and set forth thy silence. But now the very boys of my shop which grind my coolours, do laugh at these thy foolish babblings. Some think that the stoics do mock us, for that they do not only constitute and ordain their wiseman (which they feign unto themselves) to be prudent, just, and valiant, but also they call him an Orator, an Emperor, a Poet, and finally a king, and yet these glorious men abovesaid, be not ashamed to attribute all these names to themselves. And if they perceive at length that they cannot attain to them all: they be immediately grieved, and do take it very heavenly, Which thing how reasonable it is, they themselves may easily see. Sith they know that the gods themselves be content each one, with his peculiar and sundry name. As this god because he hath the rule of war and battle, is surnamed Emialius, and that other because he is God of prophecies, Mantous, & another for that he is God of gain and lucre Cerdous. Wherefore you shall read in Homer, how that jupiter forbade Venus to intermeddle with warlike affairs as things not appertaining unto her, and commanded her to take cure and charge only of matters of wedding, of bedding, and of pleasure. Beside this some of those things which seem worthy to be desired of us, are of a contrary nature one to another. As for example it behoveth him that endeavoureth himself to study eloquence, or any other of the liberal sciences, to be quiet and free from all worldly affairs. For office in the city, and the friendship of kings, are wont to cause much business, and often to call away the mind from his determinate purpose. Also the abundant use of wine and flesh, maketh the body strong and meet to wrestle, but it maketh the mind weak & frail. Finally in gathering and heaping up of riches, a man must use great diligence t'increaseincrease them, and as great carefulness in keeping them. Contrariwise the despising of them, and to set nought by them, is a great help and furtherance towards the study of Philosophy and as it were the first practising of the same. Wherefore all men cannot have all things. And therefore it behoveth every man tobay the precepts of Pittachus, that thereby he may learn to know himself, and so to consult with nature, & to follow her as his guide, by applying himself to some one certain thing, rather than by passing from one kind of life unto an other, to force nature. The horse is meet for the cart, the ox for the plough, the Dollphin for the ship, and the fierce mastiff for the wild boar. For if a man would be grieved because the mighty strong Lion cannot be like a little fawning dog daintelye fed in a widows lap: truly he might be well counted for a very fool. And he likewise should not one whit be better, that would take upon him both at one time to write of the world, and to search out the natural causes of things, like as Empedocles, Plato, or Democritus did: as also attend to embrace an old woman for richesse sake as Euphorion did. Or else would be like unto those that were wont to spend the most part of the night in banqueting and reveling with Alexander, as Medius did, and yet to think such pleasure to be nothing at all, except for richesse he might be also no less notable than Ismenia, and for virtue, no less famous than Epaminondas. Those that run for the best game, be content with their reward, and do easily suffer the wrestlers to enjoy to themselves, those Crowns of glory that they have won. Haste thou gotten Sparta (sayeth Solon) to be thy Country? then adorn it with good laws and ordinances. But we would not (sayeth the same Solon) change with you our virtue for your richesses. For virtue is a stable thing, and the property thereof may be possessed. But richesse are only granted too man's use for a time, passing oft from one to another. Strato the natural Philosopher, when he heard that Mevedemus had more scholars than he: said, is it so much to be marveled at, the more desire to be washed then to be anointed? Aristotle writing to Antipater said, that Alexander was much to be praised and extolled, not only for that he had the rule and empire over many nations: but also for that he had a better opinion than others of things appertaigning to god. And therefore if men would thus persuade with themselves that their own things ought to be rejoiced in, to be praised, and not to be so little set by: they should not so pine away, in marvelling at other men. But now though there be none of us all that thinketh the vine meet to bear figs, nor the olive tree to bring forth grapes: yet do we continually accuse ourselves, and with unthankful satiablenes vex and grieve ourselves, yea we be weary of ourselves except we may be chief, so well amongst the rich as also among theloquent, at whom in peace, as abroad in war, aswell amongst the Philosophers as the soldiers, and again amongst the flatterers, as amongst those that be true, and of a faithful free simplicity, and finally so well amongst the covetous sparers, and as the prodigal spenders. And yet we see with our eyes how marvelously well nature doth teach us the contrary. For as nature hath ordained sundry wild beasts to live by sundry kinds of food, and not to be all fed either with seeds, flesh, or roots, but divers to eat of diverse meats: even so likewise the self same nature hath given to mankind diverse kinds of life, as some to be herdsmen, some plowmen, some fowlers, and some fishers, wherefore it behoveth every one of us to take that which we perceive is most meet for us, and wholly applying ourselves to that, to departed from the possession of those things, which we know do appertain to others. For otherwise Hesiodus should be unwise to speak in this sort.  
The potter doth himself with potters aye compare  
And eke the smith his like in art texcell doth care.  
But now men do not contend one with another in likeness of art or faculty, but the rich with the eloquent, the nobles with the rich, and the lawyers with the subtle sophisters. Yea, free men, gentlemen, and such as be descended of an ancient stock, be amazed and do marvel so much at the good success & promotion, that many times players of merry interludes and comedies on stages, tumblers, and slaves, have in kings courts, that whilst they think all their own honest qualities not to be esteemed: they vex themselves with great griefs and sorrowfulness of mind, which at length doth kill them. But how every man hath in his own mind a storehouse or receptacle, and as it were a flowing fountain both of quietness and of carefulness, and hath also the vessels (whereof Homer speaketh) full of all kind of good and evil, not as he sayeth, laid at jupiter his Door, but placed within the soul: the diverssities of men, which we see to be diversly ruled by affections of the mind do right well declare. For fools do not only pass over good things which be present, but also do neglect those that be paste. So much are their careful minds bent to that which is to come. But wise men contrariwise revolving things through good remembrance before their eyes, do cause those things that as yet be not, to be at hand, yea and to be present in deed. Whereas to fools (because things present do chance in a moment, so suddenly as they can not almost be perceived) it seemeth that we have nothing nor that any thing appertaineth unto us. And as the Rope-maker which is painted in Pluto his Temple, for sloth suffereth his Ass that standeth by him, to eat up all the cord that he of hemp hath twisted: even so the ungrateful and sluggish forgetfulness of many, taking away the commodities received of things past, and cancelling all the noble acts and worthy enterprises, all the sweet time spent in quiet Study, free from all worldly affairs, all the pleasant and merry societies and fellow like living together of friends, and finally clean abolishing all that part of the life, that ever was given to any mirth or pleasure, will not suffer (I say) one self life to be made and knit of things passed and present: but by separating the life past, from the life present, and again the life present from the life to come, maketh for lack of calling such things to remembrance all things to seem, as though they had never been done. Those that in the scholles of Philosophers do take away th'increase of bodies, affirming the substance to vanish away by continual wasting of breath, do seem to prove that every one of us do alter state of body & daily decay by words. But such as do forget things past, as though their memory failed them, and will not repeat one thing often, those do not in words, but in deeds make themselves every day more miserable and poorer than other. Depending of the time to come as though things of a year paste and of late days, yea, and of yesterday, appertained nothing unto them: yea, and as though those things had never chanced unto them. So that the quiet estate of the mind, is by this means disturbed. And as flies creaping upon very smooth and slippery glass do slide, and yet in rough and cranyed places do easily stick: Even so men do fall from merry and pleasant things, and do take sure hold on the remembrance of heavy and sorrowful things. Yea rather as by report, there is in Olinthios a certain place called of the property thereof Cantharoletron, into the which when the great betleflyes be once entered, they cannot find the way out again, but after that they have many times tumbled to and fro and gone oft about in vain, at length do die: so men being wallowed into the remembrance of misery & adversity, cannot afterward help themselves out, nor yet once take breath. And therefore as painters in their tables are wont with fair glistering colours, to cover and to overlay those colours that be duskish and not to be seen: So it behoveth men in their minds with things worthy of remembrance and praise, to press down and to overwhelm all such sorrowful chances as are not to be spoken of. For things paste cannot be utterly abolished nor yet doth it lie in man's power wholly to beware in time to come. For the armony of this world is so divers and so variable as is the sound of the harp or vial. Neither doth man possess any thing that is simple, sincere or pure. But as music is made of tunes high and low, and grammar of letters, whereof some be vowelles, and some be consonauntes, and yet he is neither physician nor grammarian, that with either of these or those willbe offended, but rather that most aptly can use them and compound them both together: so he finally seemeth most wisely to establish and direct his life, that hath learned discreetly to mingle together the chances & successes of things that be of divers kinds, & contrary one to another: by recompensing the haps unfortunate, with the lucky and fortunate. For the commodity of man's life will not suffer prosperity and adversity to be put a sunder each one by himself, yea rather it behoveth us, to make a certain temperature of them both, if we purpose to judge and to determine of them rightly. Wherefore it is not meet to grunt or to groan at either of them, and to lie down as one oppressed with a heavy burden for faintness of heart and courage: but rather with the remembrance of better hap, to withstand and to beat back again the force and violence of every unlucky chance. And by covering the displeasures and incommodities, with the veil cloth, of pleasures and commodities, to make the tenor of the whole life, being knit and compact of prosperity and adversity: like a certain melodious concord tempered by art of music. Nor there is not (as Menander thought) one angel appointed to man so soon as he is born to be the director of his life, and as a master to teach him to live well: but there be rather (as Empedocles said) two angels and two sundry fortunes, to whom he gave many sundry names, which do receive us all into their power and tuition so soon as we come into the world, being immediately bound and given unto them, with like law and condition of servitude. And he said that in our birth we receive the seeds of all these affections. And therefore the way of our life is not plain and smooth, but rough and full of hard passagies. For the which cause, the wise man wisheth the best, and provideth for the worst, and useth both temperately, avoiding in either part all extremity. For it is not so (as Epicurus affirmeth) that he only with pleasure approacheth the time to come, which careth not whither he live so long or not: but those rather receive most pleasure of riches, honour, power, and dominion, which if need should be, could take the contrary state and condition of life in good worth. For the vehement desire of any thing is always accompanied with a certain fear to lose the same, which fear appalleth man's mirth and oftentimes interrupteth the same, like a flame of fire restrained by a greater violence of wind. But that man whom reason hath taught boldly without fear to speak unto Fortune in this wise.  
Like as tenjoyenjoy thy gifts, I would be very glad  
Even so to lose the same, I willbe nothing sad:  
Must needs I say trusting in himself enjoy things present with pleasure, nor cannot be often vexed with fear, in remembering of any loss that may ensue. When Anaxagoras heard that his son was dead: he said. when I did bigette him I knew well that he should die, & to that end I brought him up. This affection of Anaxagoras ought aswell to be followed of us, as to be marveled at. For every one of us, to any mishap that chanceth, may immediately say thus. I knew right well, that the riches which I possess, were but lent me for a time, and not bound to me by any necessity, and that I had but only the use of them. And I was not ignorant that they which gave me power and authority, might also take it from me, if they list. I knew my wife to be honest, and yet a woman also. And finally it was not hid from me, that my friend was a man, which is a beast (as Plato sayeth) whose nature willbe easily corrupted. Truly he that will make count of his affects after this sort and will build before in his mind such kind of Bulwarks and forts of reason: though any thing perhaps shall afterward chance against his desire or perversely: yet shall it not chance suddenly or unlooked for. Because he will never say (as the common sort doth) that I would never have thought it, or that I had a better hope, thinking that this could never have come so to pass. Yea such a man I say, shall always be able to put away the wavering of his heart, beating and quivering for fear, and to bring it by and by from trouble and vexation, to rest and quietness. Carnenades was wont to put men most in remembrance of adversity, when they were in greatest prosperity. Because that all things that come suddenly and unlooked for: be naturally apt to be received with grief and trouble of the mind, and as it were with fainting and sounding. And now to confirm that which hath been said with some examples. first how small a portion is macedony of the Roman Empire? And yet when king Persis had lost it, he did not cry out only of Fortune with foul complaints: but also seemed to many others to be the miserablest man and most unfortunate that ever was. But behold on the other side Emilius, who departing out of the province, after that he had once vanquished Persis, and yielded up to his successor all the rule and power that he had both by Sea and land: was received with crowns of glory and great rejoicing. For all men in the time of doing sacrifice, did extol him with praises up to the heavens, and that not unworthily, yea most worthily. For this man had always in remembrance, how that the Empire was given him but to use for a tyme. But Persis contrariwise, was deprived of his kingdom by a sudden chance and unlooked for. And truly it seemeth to me that Homer by a goodly example hath very well taught us, how much more grievous sudden strokes be, than others. For Ulysses being come home again out of a strange country, wept to see the sudden death of his dog. And yet sitting by his lamenting wife, did not weep at all. For he being many times towards coming home, conceived before in his mind, th'image of his weeping wife. And so that affection which without doubt, in a sudden would have bruste out: he by leisure subdued, and by hardening his heart before, brought it clean under his rule and power. But he was somewhat troubled with the sudden death of his dog, because that in so sudden a thing he had not time to restrain the force of his affection. And to speak briefly, partly such things as chance otherwise then we desire: be intolerable & grievous to suffer by nature, and partly a corrupt opinion and naughty custom of ourselves hath taught us to be grieved therewith. And that is the greatest part, against the which, it should be well done, to have always ready at hand this saying of Menander. Thou never sufferest any outrageous thing, except thou suppose it so to be. For what needest thou to care, so long as it pincheth not thy flesh, nor toucheth thy life, as for example. The low birth of thy father, the whoredom of thy mother, to be deprived of the honour of the highest seat, or to be injured, in that the glory of the victory is taken from thee: what do these things I say appertain to thee? For though all these things were so in deed: yet nothing letteth thee, but that thou mayest be well, yea and very well disposed both of body and soul. Now against such things as naturally somewhat offend us as sickness, misery, & death of our friends, we ought tobiect this saying, woe is we. But why woe is me sith we have suffered nothing, but that which apperteygneth to man. For there is no talk or saying, that doth more quickly reprove the passable part of the soul, when it is drawn out of the right way by unbridled affections: then that saying which doth admonish us, and put us in remembrance of the universal and natural necessity, and of that which must needs be, with the which necessity man is nourished up and wrapped in it, at the time of his birth and first knitting of his body, which one knot is only subject to fortunes assaults, and all the rest of nature's gifts which be chiefest and of most value, he may safely possess without danger. When King Demetrius had taken the city of Megara, it is said that he demanded Stylpo the Philosopher, whether he had lost any of his goods or not? To whom Stylpo answered. That he saw no man taking away any thing of his, for (saith he) though fortune hath suffered us to be rob and spoiled of all the rest: yet we have some thing left in us, which the Greeks can neither bear nor drive away. It is no reason therefore, so much to despise and to reject nature, as though she had no jot of fortitude nor of sufferance and therefore not equal in force, to Fortune. But sith we know right well that, that part of man which is to fortune subject, is a very small portion of us, and little to be regarded, being so brittle and so soft that it yieldeth at the first to every little poushe: and that we be lords of the better part, wherein as in a strong hold all good things be placed: yea, and wherein also, true glory, sciences, and all studies apperteigninge to virtue have their being: which cannot be taken away nor ever perish by any violence: it becometh us (I say therefore) to be in mind unvincible, and to trust in ourselves, fearing nothing that is to come. And to say to fortune, that which Socrates feigning to have spoken unto Anitus and Melitus his accusers, spoke in deed to the judgies. Anitus and Melitus may well take my life from me, but hurt or damage they can do me none. For though Fortune may oppress man with divers diseases destroy his goods, and accuse him to the tyrant, or to the people, yet she cannot make him an evil man, or a coward, or false hearted and faint of courage or malicious, and specially he being a good man, and endued with manliness and stoutness of courage. And finally she can not take away the right constitution and disposition of the mind, which doth help man more to pass his life, then  of sailing doth the mariner to pass the seas. For the stern man be he never so expert, can no more still the raging sea or repress the violence of the boisterous winds, then to take haven where as he list, so oft as he desireth to come from sea to shore. No nor yet can his art perform this, that he being taken in a sudden tempest may constantly and without fear escape such necessity. But only it helpeth thus much that so long as he despaireth not but that art may take place, he gathereth in his sails aswell as he can, and so floateth with the tempest, whereas the cowardly mariner sitteth wringing his hands together, and whilst the mast of the ship lieth drowned by violence of winds in the sea, he trembleth & quaketh for fear. But the quiet mind in a wiseman, both bringeth health to the body by the means of continency, good diet & exercise (which things do assuage and clean take away the cause and matter of sickness) & also if there be afterward perhaps any occasion of trouble whereupon man's mind doth run as upon a rock in the sea: he hoisteth up sail, and as (Esclapiades saith) quickly passeth the same. But fools not so much for desire of life as for fear of death, do hang on the body by the hands closed latties wise one finger with in another: even as Ulysses did hang by the wild fig tree when he feared the dangerous gulf called Charybdis roaring underneath him, who (as Homer writeth) being suddenly taken in the sea of Sycelye, was brought to such case that by means of the violence of the wind driving him hither & thither, he could neither go forward nor backward, nor yet as the proverb saith, as one that holdeth a wolf by the ears: was able what for weariness, & for thunhandsomnes of the place, to hold the tree any longer, and yet durst not let it go for fear of the terrible monster. Truly if a man would by some means search out the nature of our soul, and think with himself, that by death we pass from this life to a better, or at the least not to a worse: certainly that man in despising death, should prepare for himself no small provision, to conduct him in his journey towards the quietness and tranquillity of the mind. For he that as well by force of virtue which is proper and peculiar to man, may live pleasantly, as also by means of other things not apperteygning to man, but given besides nature being of great power & far passing our own proper things: may be of such bold spirit and courage, that he may say to himself, I may departed, yea I say even at the first instant, and by gods leave when I will myself: How I pray you, or when may we think that any grievous thing indissoluble or troublous, can chance to this man? But whosoever he was the first spoke this famous and renowned sentence, O Fortune I have prevented thee, and taken up before all thy ways and passages be they never so straight: truly that man seemeth not to have encouraged and boldened himself by strong buildings fast barred and surely locked: but rather by Philosophical decrees and testimonies of wise men which be common and easy for all men to have, yea and ready at hand to all those that shall vouchsafe to receive them. Neither ought we to take away our credit from such things as be consecrated to the memory of us & of our posterity, nor yet to despair or to mistrust ourselves as unable ever to follow any part thereof. But as we ought to have them in admiration, & as it were by a certain inspiration of god to be amazed at them: so also it behoveth him that prepareth himself to follow the same, too make such a show of himself that in beginning first with small things, he may afterward attempt greater and greater, & so at length achieve to the highest. But we must take heed in any wise that we forget not to consider these things before, nor yet be grieved to revolve them often in our mind & to think of them with all our heart, which thing is not, uneasy to be done. For as the dilicatenes of the mind, which being occupied in every little trifle and things of small weight, is wont by a naughty sufferance to withdraw itself from unrepentant things for to follow things of pleasure: doth annoy us and infect us with a certain slothful diliciousnes & tenderness: even so, if a man would behold in his mind th'image of sickness, labour, travail, banishment, & such other like, & command in himself the force of his wit & reason, diligently to discuss each thing that is to be pondered by itself: that man, that man, I say, with out doubt, should quickly find those things that seem grievous & horrible, to be in deed vain & for the most part not to be regarded, and finally to threaten more outwardly, than they can perform inwardly. But the common sort do fear this saying of Menander. There is no man that may glory so much of himself in his life time as to say, that I will not suffer this, or that. And no marvel why, sith they know not how much it helpeth towards thavoiding of heaviness, taccustom themselves to behold fortune with a froward countenance, & with a fierce look, & not to be given to effeminate thoughts & wavering delights, which being nourished in darkness, & abashed at every glistering light of hope, do yield to every trifle. Albeit Menander might be answered thus. A man ought not to say, I will not in my life time suffer this, but rather ought to say, I will not whilst I live do this. As I will not lie, I will not use subtle craft in deceiving men, I will not defraud them of their right, I will not maliciously lay wait to take them in a trap. For sith this thing consisteth in our power, it must needs be a very great help to those that do further themselves tobteigne quietness of mind. Contrariwise a wicked conscience is in the soul, like a wound in the body, & it causeth repentance, which continually fretteth and tormenteth the soul. For where as reason is wont to take away all other griefs and heaviness, this naughty conscience (I say) causeth repentance for shame to provoke itself of the own accord, and as it were eagerly to bite and to tear itself in pieces. And as the cold of a cold ague, or the heat of a burning feavoure doth much more vehemently and grievously afflict the body, than any other outward heat or cold. Even so the griefs and sorrows that come unto us by chance, be easier to suffer, than those that by our own folly do breed in ourselves. This saying also which every man when he hath done any mischief is wont with weeping tears to howl out. There is no man to be blamed for this, but I myself: maketh the wound which is grievous of itself, much more grievous and doth pierce it deeper. For neither goodly buildings, nor abundance of gold, nor yet nobleness of birth or great Empire, nor finally, pleasant speech, eloquence, or promptness of tongue, can bring such stillness and pleasant quietness of life, as the mind that is free from pensiveness and liveth by itself, far of, from wicked thoughts. Which mind having in itself a clear and pure fountain of life (whereby I mean an honest disposition and virtuous behaviour from whence all commendable doings do spring) as a thing encouraged I say by some inspiration of god, doth bring forth all her doings in mirth and pleasure, with the continual remembrance whereof she is only fed, being to her a great deal sweeter & much more assured, than the hope whereof Pyndarus speaketh, which (as he saith) doth nourish old age. And as the sweet garden plots (as Carneades was wont to say) though they be spoiled of their pleasant shrubs, the roots being cut or pulled up, do yield for all that a certain sweet smell long time after: even so honest doings, do leave in the mind of a wiseman, a certain remembrance which is always pleasant & fresh. With the which remembrance the inward mirth being watered, as it were wi●h a continual running brook, is always green & bringeth forth young shoots & springs to the great shame of those that do oft lament & blame this life, affirming it to be a counsel house of mischief, & a certain assemble of banished folks, into the which the souls be sent a way from above, as though they were banished out of their country. Truly I cannot but judge this saying of Diogenes most worthy of remembrance. Who espying a stranger on a time in Lacedemony gorgeously arraying himself against a festival day, said thus, what (quoth he?) Is not every day to a good man a festival day? yes truly (if we consider things well) most festival & joyful. For the world is no other thing but a holy temple, & most meet for God. And into this temple, man at his birth time is admitted, not to behold images made by man's hand, & without sense or feeling: but to behold the sun the Moon, & the Stars, from whence our life took her first beginning & moving, which things the providence of god gave us to behold, to th'intent that such things as be subject to the outward senses, might be (as Plato saith) images & examples of those things which are to be comprehended and understanded by the mind. Add hereunto the floods continually bringing fresh water and earth, which nourisheth both plant & beast. It behoveth our life therefore, that will truly begin to celebrate this noble feast & goodly sight, to be full of mirth & quietness. And not to tarry for the feast of Saturn, of Bacchus or of Pallas (as many do) which do abide these and such other feastyvall days when they approach with great expectation, and finally being come they receive them and the plays celebrated in the same, with much rejoicing. And for their pleasure's sake, they pay also hire to players of Interludes, to Minstrels and to Tumblers, that in those days they may delight themselves, the more wanton with bought mirth. But what can be a more undecent thing then this, that during such plays, we can sit quietly, keeping a marvelous still silence, attending to nothing but to that only. For neither doth any man lament whilst he doth sacrifice, nor yet whilst he beholdeth the plays of Apollo, no more than he that sitteth at Saturn's feast, complaineth for hunger. And yet such solemn feasts, as God is author of, and as it were ring leader, we many times defile and violate, by passing them over with lamenting, with bitterness of heart, and with miserable living. And this also is very unseemly for us to be delighted with the melodious noise of Organs, and with the sweet singing of birds, and willingly to behold beasts whilst they play together, and leap too and fro. And again to be offended with their loud howling, terrible roaring, and cruel looking. And yet we saying our own sorrowful heavy and froward life, drowned in noisome affects, in troubles and cares inexplicable, be not only unable to crave casement for ourselves and space to breath: But also unwilling to hear those that would exhort us thereunto. To whose admonyshmentes if with ears unoccupied and well purged we would attend, we● should both use things present according as they be, without fear of reproof, and also we should quiet ourselves with pleasant remembrance of things passed. And finally having an assured and joyful hope always before our eyes, we should boldly approach things that are to come.   

¶ Imprinted at London by William Seres dwelling at the West end of Paul's at the Sign of the Hedgehog, the seven. day of june. An. domini. 1561.  
¶ Cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum